......A few things I suspect about Izenheim.

1. Izenheim use a language unique to themselves.

This is the most important fact. They communicate not through sound but through mana...... no, a wavelength too alien to even call mana, and they use it like a cipher.

A resonance that scrapes out the soul, something no human vocal cord could imitate. And yet to human senses, it feels like mana. Which means they cannot hide it completely.

2. Because they appeared abruptly at some point in human civilization, their history is, to a degree, "severed."

It is therefore impossible to pinpoint exactly when or where they emerged. Still, through various historical records and circumstantial evidence, a rough era can be inferred.

At least three hundred years ago. That is approximately when Izenheim first appeared in continental history.

3. They are scattered across the continent, but at certain locations they form concentrated settlements and worship a religion called "Izent."

They chose religion as their cover, a way to root themselves deep within society.

Perhaps because even they need a base of operations.

4. They are scheming something beneath the ground.

This was confirmed before my regression, through Edmon's testimony. Across the Eastern Alliance's labor reeducation camps, the western republic, and every corner of the Empire, they are spread wide and thin.

Kanillan, the island nation, is nearly free of any trace of them.

Where there is no reason to dig underground, they do not exist.

5. Izenheim cannot recognize each other by appearance alone.

Point five is the hypothesis I intend to verify here, in person, right now.

Before using their own "language" or performing certain rituals, they cannot perfectly identify their own kind by outward appearance alone.

This is why points three and five are linked.

If the entire Izenheim race were connected, there would be no need to form concentrated settlements and attach the label of religion to themselves, exposing a weakness like that.

Because they cannot recognize their own kind by looks alone, they call themselves Izenheim and rally their kin under the banner of the Izent religion.

-- Then.

How will the Izenheim standing before me react to this "language" I just used?

Thump.

My heart kept beating. The boy did not move.

Thump.

Whether it answered me or not, I was going to kill it. But I kept every trace of murderous intent buried.

"......"

The boy's face was blank. As if the very function of emotion had suddenly switched off.

Thump.

In that silence, only the virus pulsed. Then, at some moment,

--Go back.

The boy finally opened its mouth.

Its language rang through my skull.

--We cannot speak yet.

What did that mean? What was humanity's enemy waiting for?

Even so, I pressed on.

"There is something I need to tell you."

A form of psychological pressure, in its own way. It had said we could not speak, so I spoke to it in human language.

"......"

The boy stared at me for a long moment, then ,

Trudge.

, turned and walked off somewhere. An invitation to follow, presumably.

This raised the credibility of hypothesis five, but it was still too early to trust it fully.

It could just as well be a ploy to deceive me.

Trudge.

I followed at a steady distance.

Bizarre Izenheim patterns were carved into the walls, and the air passing between them scraped at my skin. Cold sweat gathered along my back.

Fear of the unknown.

Even I could not escape that, but it did not trouble me. If things went wrong, I would simply cut down every Izenheim in this place, and that would be that.

Trudge.

The boy stopped. We stood before an altar carved from bedrock.

On the sculpture at its center sat a single scripture, the Izent text they worshipped, placed there all alone.

--Speak.

The boy transmitted the wavelength. I scanned the space but sensed no wiretap, no surveillance, not even a trace of residual mana.

Probably because leaving any such record would work against them. After all, they already carried the most perfect weapon: their outward appearance.

"King Batimus is planning to sell us out to the Empire."

At that, the boy went completely still.

And in that moment I knew.

--I've been caught.

What gave it away, I could not yet tell. Which part of what I had just said was wrong?

Think about it later.

I held the boy's gaze and changed my question.

"What exactly did we do wrong?"

"......"

The boy said nothing.

A vast anger surged up from deep in my gut, but I could not let emotion take hold.

"I'm asking."

"I have no idea what you mean."

The boy answered smoothly, in Mekerel language.

I asked again.

"What did humanity do to deserve extinction?"

A sneer crossed the boy's lips.

It looked at me with a strange expression, one that held anger mixed into it.

"......Your very existence is the wrong."

It said this aloud. Opened its mouth and let the words out.

For that, a sixth hypothesis was born.

6. The younger the Izenheim's outward appearance, the more immature it is.

"I see."

I did not hesitate. I raised my pistol and fired between the boy's eyes.

--.

Quiet mana passed through the boy. A small body crumpled to the floor. Silence settled over the shrine. Blood flowing from the Izenheim splashed against my shoes, and the wind turned hollow.

"......"

Without thinking, I shifted my gaze and looked out into the empty air.

Somewhere out there, Filty's eyes, watching me.

......

I dealt with the body and walked back up to the surface.

Night had settled quietly over this cursed town, and I was making my way out when..."Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Someone called out to me in the imperial language.

I stopped on the lantern-lit street and turned.

"Are you an imperial?"

The speaker was a man in a grey priest's robe. Around his neck hung an ornament bearing the Izent symbol, and his complexion was as pale as an ascetic's.

I watched him without speaking.

My heartbeat thudded heavily again.

"An Izenheim?"

This one was Izenheim too, naturally.

"Yes. I am Izenheim. And you are an imperial, it seems."

He did not avoid my gaze, smiling softly.

For my part, it felt as though my blood was rushing in reverse.

That warm, magnanimous act, the bearing of a clergyman who seemed ready to embrace every sin in the world. The disgusting shell of it made me want to retch. I wanted to kill it right now.

"You're different from the other Izenheim here."

I held myself back and changed the subject. The creature's skin tone was indeed noticeably lighter than the rest.

"Haha. I was born in the Empire, after all. Is there a particular reason an imperial has come to visit Rondor?"

The Izenheim priest asked in a conspicuously gentle voice.

"......There is."

The question itself touched something smoldering inside me.

"I was curious about your kind."

I muttered it under my breath, fingers resting on the pistol at my hip.

"Subhuman creatures."

"......"

The contempt and condemnation did not anger it. It clasped both hands together as if in prayer.

"......I understand. Imperials despise Izenheim. But that is nothing more than a misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding.

"We are simply waiting. Even a knot of hatred that sharp will, one day, come undone before the great providence. In the end, we will all find peace together, a tranquility free of discrimination and suffering."

A nauseating voice, as though reciting a blessing.

"When that day comes, you too will understand what we seek."

Disgusting words. I raised the pistol and aimed, finger resting on the trigger.

"......The only tranquility free of discrimination and suffering is death."

The Izenheim's reaction was exactly what I had expected.

It quietly lowered its head.

"Imperial. Do as your will leads you."

Do as your will leads you.

I turned those words over in my mind, and then, willingly,

I chose to hide my true intent.

I chose to hold down the urge to kill.

Because someday, a better opportunity would come.

"......"

I lowered the pistol and holstered it. The Izenheim priest's eyes widened in surprise.

I turned away without a word.

And at that same moment, I was certain.

"--Nameless imperial. I would like to say something as you leave."

The subhuman creature calling out at my back.

Even they have gaps.

They can be deceived.

I will not be deceived by them, but I can make them believe they have deceived me.

"I hope today's decision becomes a very great turning point for you......"

Because my greatest weapon is the information asymmetry of regression.

* * *

--Meanwhile, far from Mekerel, in an underground city of the Empire.

[ Maximilian: What exactly did we do wrong? ]

Scratch. Scratch.

The pen nib of Filty, the manga artist, raced across the paper.

[ Boy: ...... ]

Scratch. Scratch.

Her pupils had gone white, and her hands sketched the scenes the All-Seeing Eye observed.

[ Maximilian: I'm asking. ]

[ Boy: I have no idea what you mean. ]

Incomprehensible exchanges continuing in some underground shrine in Mekerel.

[ Maximilian: What did humanity do to deserve extinction? ]

At Maximilian's question, the boy's expression shifted for just an instant.

[ Boy: ......Your very existence is the wrong. ]

And then Maximilian ground his teeth with a crack.

Rage he might not have recognized in himself. The All-Seeing Eye caught it, and Filty rendered it vividly on white paper.

[ --A mana bullet passes through the boy's forehead. ]

The moment Maximilian killed the Izenheim boy.

Life returned to Filty's eyes.

"......"

She looked quietly down at the finished page panels.

Maximilian. In the Izent shrine in eastern Rondor, he had killed the boy. Another bizarre crime committed.

"Extinction of humanity......"

But somehow it did not feel ordinary.

Filty could not make sense of what she had observed, of the conversation Maximilian had shared with the boy.

"Author-nim~"

A voice from behind her, right on cue.

Filty startled and turned. It was her manager, smiling brightly.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. I ate."

He came over smiling and set a stack of morning newspapers down on the table.

"Look at this. Not just the imperial edition, but the Prozen-language and Hail-language export editions all sold out this morning too!"

The front page of the literary newspaper carried bold headlines.

[ Continental Sensation "Outcast" Sells Out in Prozen on Its First Day! ]

[ Hailand Bookstores in Chaos! The "Outcast" Phenomenon ]

Elje, Meden, Pain, Kayden...... Outcast. The paths of her comrades were spreading across the entire continent, shaking people's hearts.

"I'm glad."

Filty felt a strange sense of relief alongside a deep sadness.

The manager glanced at the papers on the desk, the ones she had just drawn with Maximilian's scenes, and asked about them.

Filty quickly stretched both hands out and covered the manuscript.

"......I'd appreciate it if you didn't cross that line."

"Ah, yes. Sorry."

The manager stepped back, a little embarrassed. Filty let out a quiet sigh and said,

"It's a Spinoff. The story after Outcast."

That was all she told him.

If the day came when Maximilian was defeated and fell, she intended to release these manuscripts to the world. To expose every atrocity he had committed, every massacre he had carried out, a full accusation laid before all the world.

"Oh~ I can't wait to see it."

The manager's eyes lit up. Filty looked at him and suddenly asked,

"Yam. Could you get me some books?"

This manager's name was Yam. Full name, Yam Mikon.

Probably because he was Yaken, his name was quite unusual.

"Books?"

"Yeah."

"What kind do you need? Art books? Or a novel for inspiration?"

At that question, Filty answered quietly.

"......Izenheim."

Izenheim.

She was going to study Izenheim.

Because to dismantle Maximilian's vicious logic of racism and hatred, she first had to understand it herself.

"Books related to Izenheim...... as many as you can find. History books, whatever, it doesn't matter."

"Izenheim? Yes, understood. I'll see what I can track down."

"Yeah. Go now."

"Yes!"

Yam left, and Filty picked the manga panels back up.

[ Maximilian: What did humanity do to deserve extinction? ]

Those words Maximilian had repeated just before killing the boy, words that somehow sounded almost desperate.

[ Boy: ......Your very existence is the wrong. ]

And opposite them, the boy's answer, frozen cold.

Filty's All-Seeing Eye was imperfect. It could not "remember" what it observed. She could only capture it by drawing it on a page.

But perhaps for exactly that reason, without any prejudice at all, in the manga that most accurately rendered what the All-Seeing Eye had seen,

"Why......"

Maximilian appeared to be the protagonist, and the boy was drawn as the villain.

"......What is this."

This strangely inverted dynamic ,

Filty stared at it for a long, long time.