Campione: Strongest# 450: The Withering Flower

In the basement of a residential building in Mifune City’s old quarter, Araya Souren stared silently at his now-useless right hand.

“Mr. Araya, I heard from Ryuunosuke that you ran into a Divine Spirit? Getting involved in such trouble is quite inconvenient for me.” Valery Vandelstam swirled the red wine in his highball glass, watching it shift with a grim expression from the sofa.

If possible, Valery did not want to provoke a Divine Spirit. However, having loaned his subordinate to Araya, he was clearly entangled.

“The plan failed. I didn't anticipate the Lord of the Cross being present near Ryougi Shiki,” Araya said grimly.

“Wait, are you sure it was the God of the Church?” Valery stopped swirling his glass, his face shocked.

“Based on the resonance of faith at the time, yes, I am certain,” Araya replied in a deep voice.

“…I was originally planning to abandon our partnership, Mr. Araya, but now it seems we need to deepen our cooperation.” Valery’s expression turned cold.

“Oh?” Araya raised an eyebrow, looking at him with surprise. “Do you hold a grudge against this God, Mr. Valery?”

“No direct hatred. I merely have a deep feud with that God’s lover, our esteemed Black Princess,” Valery said with a mocking sneer, revealing sharp fangs.

“Ah, the Black Princess who currently rules the dark side of Europe?” Araya nodded understandingly.

According to his intelligence, following the disappearances of the Black and White Princess, the Black Princess had begun to expand her territory relentlessly, seeking to escape her nominal status as the highest leader of the Dead Apostles.

Valery, having long held a bitter hatred for the White Knight, naturally opposed her. This had led to him being severely wounded by the Black Princess and fleeing to the Far East like a beaten dog.

It was understandable that his hatred would extend to her lover.

“But that Divine Spirit and the Black Princess are lovers?” Araya asked, his tone strange.

The head of the Holy Church, who constantly advocated for killing Dead Apostles, was having an affair with the current leader of the Dead Apostles? It sounded like a farce.

“You wouldn’t know. This is a secret that both the Mage's Association and the Church's upper echelons go to great lengths to conceal,” Valery shrugged. If he hadn't placed spies in various organizations, he never would have learned this explosive news. When he received the intelligence, his first reaction was disbelief.

“This is truly awful. Am I now facing a joint siege from both the Dead Apostles and the Holy Church?” Araya’s face grew even gloomier.

“Mr. Araya, you truly are a Magus. Even under these circumstances, you won't give up your pursuit of the Root, will you?” Valery looked at him meaningfully. “So, are you interested in hearing my plan regarding that ritual?”

——————

Azaka Kokutou was deeply agitated. Having just started junior high, she received the devastating news that her brother, Mikiya, had been attacked. The news sent her into such a panic that she skipped school and rushed back from the countryside to see him in Mifune City.

Azaka's intense concern stemmed from her profound "brother complex." Yes, Azaka Kokutou was a girl who wanted to marry her older brother.

Now, however, she felt those feelings were being severely challenged.

A stunning, silver-haired beauty stood in her brother's hospital room. This startling discovery caused Azaka to freeze, dropping the bouquet she had just bought. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Silver-white hair cascaded to her knees, bright green eyes filled with playful mischief, a dreamlike, delicate face, and a look of awkward guilt—it all combined to make Azaka think: 'So cute… I want to hold her…'

Her cheeks flushed a strange red.

The sudden, inappropriate thought shocked her. 'What's wrong with me? This impulse is even stronger than when I look at Brother! No, no, I must maintain my commitment. I must be firm…'

“Ahaha, sorry. I think I came into the wrong room.” A voice like a light bird call sounded softly.

Nyarlathotep, caught in the act, smiled mischievously and scratched her cheek. Her steps were stiff as she moved toward Azaka—or more accurately, toward the door behind her.

As Nyarlathotep passed, a small hand shot out like lightning and grabbed her wrist.

“Oh?” Nyarlathotep looked at Azaka with surprise. Seeing the girl's sky-blue eyes, rippling like spring water, she seemed to realize something, and her lips curved upward.

“Little sister, do you need something from me?” she asked, her tone teasing, gently stroking Azaka's cheek like a nobleman harassing a commoner.

“N-Nothing!” The cool touch jolted Azaka. Recalling her impulsive action, the girl blushed fiercely.

“Um, did you come to see my brother?” she asked, eyes darting around as she feigned nonchalance.

Nyarlathotep tilted her head. “Brother?”

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Azaka Kokutou, and the person in the bed is my older brother, Mikiya,” Azaka explained.

“Oh, oh! So you’re the sister of the toy… I mean, the patient,” Nyarlathotep said, catching herself just before saying "toy," her face slightly embarrassed.

“So, what’s your name, Sister?” Azaka asked with a smile. Nyarlathotep felt an inexplicable sensation, as if she could see a fox’s tail wagging behind Azaka.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Azaka meaningfully. “You can call me Nyarko, little Azaka. And just so you know, Nyarko is a Great Outer God.”

“Eh? Really? Sister Nyarko?” Azaka blinked, looking at her with adoration.

“Of course not! It was a joke!”

“Hmph! Lying is bad.”

Before long, the two girls, one silver-haired and one black-haired, walked out of the room arm-in-arm, deep in conversation.

On the hospital floor, a single crimson flower, still bearing drops of water, slowly withered and died.