I, Kurumi Tokisaki, Am a Wanderer

At the edge of the world stood a magnificent mountain range, its layered formations resembling a decadent tiramisu.

In an unnaturally poised manner, a small girl stood there, her figure dwarfed by the grand expanse.

Schwi scanned her surroundings. Based on temperature, humidity, and the anomalous terrain nearby, she quickly concluded that she had somehow traversed half the planet in an instant.

An extraordinary feat, one even the Flügel's Heaven Shift could not accomplish.

The truth was evident: this figure before her was a Old Deus.

Seated at the cliff's edge, her face propped on a delicate hand, the petite girl radiated an air of utter indifference toward everything. Slowly, she turned her head, her metallic, faintly rosy eyes meeting Schwi's gaze.

She was even smaller than Schwi, her slightly disheveled hair framing features sculpted with exquisite precision.

Her ethereal dress accentuated a form that was almost absurdly graceful. And Schwi, though mechanical, could not help but feel a twinge of envy—there was an undeniable fullness to her form that Schwi found utterly unattainable.

In that instant, Schwi understood the source of this irresistible, inescapable aura.

It was the same as the reverence the Flügel felt toward the God of War, Artosh, or the devotion the Dwarves showed to the God of Forge, Ocain.

The being before her was none other than God of Doubt—Holou, the creator of the Ex-Machina.

A being that, countless ages ago, had created the Ex-Machina before vanishing in despair.

Though she had once pierced her Divine Essence to deny her existence, seeking death, this long-dormant god had reawakened upon hearing that single voice.

The name "Holou," given by a distant future's Old Deus descendants, unexpectedly pleased the girl.

"You..." A slender, delicate hand reached toward Schwi's chest.

Schwi's attire seemed to part of its own accord, revealing the soft skin at the center of her chest—there, her small core port was nestled. The slightly cool hand pressed gently against it.

"Thanks... acknowledgment... Holou assumes this to be so." Her words faltered, the girl's petite face reflecting bewilderment and hesitation, though it was softened by a faint, furrowed smile.

Ancient and convoluted strings of code flickered rapidly before Schwi's vision—errors and outdated algorithms long since discarded.

Through her core, she witnessed a memory etched from billions of years ago, spanning countless generations—a vision of her creator's face, forlorn and desperate for answers.

The questions posed in that distant time resurfaced in Schwi's core, echoing like the resonance of a great, unsolvable equation.

The garbled computations produced a cacophony of noise, which Schwi echoed aloud—a response from the Ex-Machina to their creator.

"A God... is a being born from a concept. Born divine, thus divine. Therefore, that question has no answer."

"What is a god..." the lonely girl had asked, billions of years ago.

"But your questions... are your heart. By asking them and pondering, you demonstrate the existence of a heart. Because there is heart, there is life, even in a god."

"What is the heart..." teetering on the edge of collapse, the anguished Old Deus had sought answers from her creations.

A being without breath, without a heartbeat—Schwi—drew a deep breath, savoring a peculiar sensation. In her silence, some resolution had taken root, an understanding amidst confusion and uncertainty.

Under the cool touch of that hand, something within Schwi's chest had been rebuilt.

"Then—let this moment be the answer to that ancient question." Schwi's lips curved into a shy smile, not unlike the one her creator once wore.

"If you don't mind that I am but a machine—'then let me be your conversation partner.'"

Long ago, a lonely girl created companions, yet these creations could not answer her questions.

Despairing, the girl chose death.

Only the mechanical beings she left behind remained, confused and devoid of purpose.

The Ex-Machina neither understood their existence nor why they were created. For millions of years, they merely observed, analyzed, theorized, and evolved aimlessly.

The story of the Ex-Machina, spanning countless generations, was one of silence and incompleteness.

The Arctic.

"Heh... heh heh." Kurumi shook her shoulders, covering her face with one hand as if she had just heard a particularly funny joke.

"Hey." She tilted her head back, her shadowy hair cascading like a dark waterfall, her wine-red eyes locking onto Jibril's.

"If you think you can, then by all means—try." Her lips curled into a provocative smirk.

"What a cocky little monkey you are," Jibril replied, her radiant smile betraying the maniacal delight beneath. The cross in her eyes seemed almost to morph into hearts. "Are you trying to make me laugh with jokes, hoping I'll spare your life?"

"Oh, you're certainly unique... unique enough that I can't wait to add your head to my collection!"

Though Kurumi's words taunted Jibril, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her most pressing concern wasn't this crazed Flügel's antics—it was Schwi.

Where had her little loli gone? She couldn't waste time entertaining Jibril's twisted games.

Unleashing her full speed, Kurumi dashed across the icy surface, shattering the ice beneath her feet as her black-and-red figure disappeared in an instant.

To evade the sight of a Flügel was no easy feat. Even ignoring their immense speed, the Heaven Shift allowed them to instantly move anywhere within their field of vision.

While Elves required preparation to teleport, for Flügel, Heaven Shift was as effortless as drinking water. Especially for the First Individual, Azril, who could weaponize it.

Before Kurumi could advance further north, a flicker of pinkish iridescence appeared ahead of her.

A sword of light, forged from brilliance, slashed down.

In an instant, the icy plains were split in two, the impact severing rivers and shattering frozen cliffs.

Kurumi twisted in midair, her lithe figure flipping gracefully upward as her arms extended, twin barrels firing rapidly at Jibril.

Under the cover of the crackling gunfire, she sliced through the gaping chasm in the ice, vaulting past Jibril and pressing onward.

But then, from behind, a voice emerged like a whisper from hell, curling around her ear with blistering heat laced with chilling malice.

"Hey... where do you think you're going?"

Jibril clung close to Kurumi's back, following her movements perfectly. Her narrowed eyes gleamed, her twisted smile resembling a mask of cruelty.

From her very essence emanated a bone-deep killing intent.

It was as if she were suspended in a dream, falling amidst the shimmering glow cascading from the heavens.

Kurumi's eyes dimmed, reflecting the somber colors of the murky sky before gradually darkening further.

The final strike from the Flügel Extra Individual sent her plummeting, a storm churning within her chest. Thankfully, Kurumi was a shameless, defense-maxed player. Though she felt discomfort, the damage she suffered wasn't truly severe.

Good thing she'd spent enough to stay invincible.

Still... it had been a long time since she tasted something like this—her mouth felt salty.

Above her, Jibril raised the weapon in her hand high, its blade wreathed in dark purple light that shimmered like death incarnate, forming a short scythe of impending doom.

She swung it down mercilessly.

Kurumi's eyes flashed. Supporting herself on the ice with one hand, she pushed herself up and swung her legs toward Jibril in a spinning kick.

—Rising Kick.

The moment her legs connected, Kurumi's body twisted unnaturally as she flipped upright. Like a child at play, she stuck out a leg, tripping Jibril.

Caught off guard, Jibril staggered, her expression stunned and incredulous, and she stumbled backward.

—Step Shot.

The situation flipped in an instant.

Standing triumphantly on Jibril's chest, Kurumi couldn't help but note how surprisingly soft it felt. Don't believe her? Try for yourself.

For someone like Jibril, this was an intolerable humiliation. Her prismatic eyes burned with fury as she activated Heaven Shift, folding space and escaping Kurumi's pin.

Floating midair, Jibril's face twisted with rage as she slashed downward at the icy surface with her scythe.

The surrounding spirits surged, transforming into a cascade of violet sword beams that cleaved toward the ground, crisscrossing into an intricate web of destruction.

Kurumi slid beneath the barrage, desperately sprinting toward the distance.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The deafening blasts reverberated behind her. Kurumi didn't dare look back, focusing instead on her rapid escape. Freezing seawater splashed onto her black-and-red coat, soaking it through, only to evaporate in the fiery aura of her Death Revolver, shrouding her in wisps of steam.

Jibril, with an effortless wave of her hand, dispelled the lingering mist.

The cold wind whipped at Kurumi, heralding the pitch-black descent of the night.

Jibril's scythe was already hurtling toward her.

Kurumi leapt backward just in time, raising her right hand to block with her gunblade. Then, with her left hand, she slashed downward with the jagged edge of her second blade, striking Jibril's delicate skin.

Yet Jibril was shielded by the divine blessings of her creator. Ordinary attacks had no effect on her—she was protected by the God of War's will.

Pulling back instantly, Kurumi put some distance between them, contemplating her next move.

This wasn't going to be resolved anytime soon... and even if she somehow managed to defeat Jibril, it might just mean exhausting her supplies to brute force her way through.

Jibril—the Flügel Extra Individual—was an opponent capable of hunting down Giants and even slaying White Dragons on her own.

"Did you really think such pitiful attacks could do anything to me?" Jibril sneered maliciously, her voice dripping with contempt as she took flight once more.

Charging at Kurumi, she raised her scythe, its edge gleaming with deadly intent.

Kurumi raised her dual pistols, aiming at a precise 90-degree angle before pulling the trigger.

Bang!

The bullet struck true, piercing the back of Jibril's head. Blood spurted forth, warm and crimson.

—Multi-Shot.

Jibril froze in disbelief, her hand reaching instinctively to the wound on the back of her head. It was warm, sticky...

The Flügel, beings composed of magical energy, wouldn't be felled by such injuries. But for Jibril, this represented something far more significant.

"I... I was injured by a monkey?"

Bang!

Kurumi fired again, but this time the bullet was deflected.

Jibril's eyes widened with resolve, and she conjured a defensive spell.

For a Flügel, this was an extraordinary act. As entities forged from the War God's magic, their blessings manifested as perpetual defensive enchantments. To layer additional defenses over these was a rare display of doubt—doubt in their creator's protection.

An anomaly. An absolute anomaly.

Jibril wasn't merely a Flügel. She was Jibril, the Extra Individual, far surpassing the limits of her race.

"Why is it," she mused with a devilish smile, her angelic form hovering in the air, "that I feel such strange excitement?"

"This time... I won't hold back."

"You... are a threat."

"You are the very 'weakest' that Raphael warned about—the one who threatens the strongest."

Before hunting her prey, Jibril first fulfilled her duty as the God of War's blade: eliminating potential threats.

Though her master might long for a challenger to ascend to the throne and defeat him in open combat, such a destiny was not for someone who couldn't even survive Jibril's test.

"Disappear quietly here," Jibril declared as violet light descended from the heavens behind her.

The icy ground beneath Kurumi's feet erupted in explosions, leaving no trace of its existence.

Kurumi zigzagged frantically, dodging blasts as the battlefield came back into view.

Without the protection of a Lake Spirit, running on water required one thing—speed, and lots of it.

Kurumi gritted her teeth, humiliated by her predicament.

Leaping onto a larger ice floe, she exhaled heavily, her gaze lifting toward the distant sky.

There, the sundered clouds began to knit themselves together again, framing the crimson Scarlet Moon with its crater—a mark left as if by a meteor.

But there was no sign of Schwi.

Not a trace of the vibrant green energy unique to the Ex-Machina. It was as if Schwi had vanished completely, leaving no resistance behind.

"Yare yare... I'll ask you one more time." Kurumi stopped, her voice calm yet laced with danger. The violet light beside her consumed a swath of the ice plain in silence.

She fixed her gaze on Jibril, her expression making the Flügel feel a rare sense of unease. "Where is Schwi?"

A threat... must be eliminated.

Jibril offered no reply. Raising both hands, her prismatic eyes surveyed the land below.

As an Extra Individual, 5% of her Heaven's Strike could part seas. At 100%, the entire ocean could be evaporated.

"20% will suffice," Jibril declared with a maddened grin, inscribing an intricate light circle high in the sky.

Converting 20% of her essence into neural connections linked to the Spirit Corridor, she gathered power from the atmosphere, the planet, and the ethereal flow. A radiant lance materialized in her hand, brimming with whirlpooling energy.

Even at 20%, it surpassed the strength of ordinary Flügel.

—Heaven's Strike.

As the divine spear descended from the sky, Kurumi sighed softly. For a moment, the image of a diminutive figure cloaked in black flickered before her eyes.

What if she could end this quickly and find Schwi?

The answer was clear.

Ah, well... nothing in this world was more important than that little girl.

The Star Grail? Not even close.

"Nya... Onee-sama."

That timid voice echoed in her ears, the face that greeted her each morning suddenly vivid in her mind.

The lingering dampness on her neck and cheek after waking—did she really have a pet cat? Kurumi always laughed at the thought, playfully tying a knot in Schwi's tail.

Yes, Schwi was irreplaceable.

"Tet... I'm not human anymore," Kurumi murmured with a serene smile.

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