The sun hovered weakly in the sky over Mount Taikouzan, as if it were a heat haze.

Looking up at a light source that less reliable than the moon, I recalled the words of Sozai from earlier.

“By the selfless maiden Sophia Azurite, who invited the god into her own body to save all lives sealed in the Demon Realm by the detestable traitor, Mitsurugi Kazuma, one cannot speak of the teachings of the Light God without acknowledging Holy maiden Sophia.”

Having passionately begun to talk about the great deeds of the Holy maiden, Sozai had soon received a summons from Doga and left his seat. Consequently, left with nothing to do, I stepped out of the room and absentmindedly looked up at the sun of the Demon Realm.

The wind blowing in from afar carried miasma and was muddled. It couldn’t be called conducive to deep thinking, but that fact didn’t affect me much right now.

What occupied my mind at this moment was, of course, the scene that had flashed through my head earlier.

The two brothers claiming to be from the Mitsurugi family. Conversations about their father and uncle being killed by Mythical Creatures. Their use of the old name for Demon Island, Green wood Island, which is hardly used nowadays. Moreover, their casual mention of hidden matters like Fangxiang clan and Nanashiki.

Above all, considering that the younger brother referred to the older one as Mitsurugi Kazuma, those brothers must be the first generation of the Mitsurugi family and his younger brother. They would be my ancestors from 300 years ago.

I have no doubt about this, but questions remain.

One is why Soul Eater has memories of my ancestors.

Another is that I’ve never heard that the first Sword Saint had a brother.

Were they not blood brothers but adopted or something? Or perhaps the records were lost because he died young, either in battle or from illness.

Still, it’s strange that someone praised by the first Sword Saint as “much better than me” left no name in history. Even if the younger brother had died young, you’d think that the fact that the first Sword Saint had a brother would be known.

As I ponder various things, I hear a familiar voice from the side.

“Sora? What’s troubling you, making such a serious face?”

Turning toward the voice, I see Claira Berch approaching with a curious expression.

Contemplating a reply of “it’s nothing” to her concern, I suddenly decide to ask Claira about the question that’s been on my mind.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

“What are you wondering about?”

“Do you know whether the first Sword Saint had a brother?”

The talk about the Soul Eater’s memory was a bit sudden, so it must have felt abrupt to Claira. Nonetheless, the white-haired Green Woods flagbearer pondered over it seriously.

“The younger sibling of the founder… No, I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of such a person.”

“Hmm, even a regular flagbearer like you doesn’t know, huh? That makes me think my lack of knowledge isn’t the only reason.”

After muttering to myself briefly, I thanked Claira for answering my question.

“It’s nothing,” Claira said, shaking her head slightly before looking at me with slight confusion.

“Did you hear something about the founder from the Kijin?”

“No, it’s not that. I had a sort of dream, or maybe traveled back in time through the river of time—something like that.”

“Huh…”

Receiving my vague response, countless question marks must have appeared on Claira’s face. But, sensing that I had no intention of elaborating, she didn’t press further. Instead, she spoke about future matters.

“I heard from Ursula. You’re planning to stay in the demon world for a while, aren’t you?”

“Hm? Ah, yes, I did say that to Ursula.”

“One reason for that is for Klimt and me, right?”

Claira’s red eyes seemed slightly moist. For half a moment, I hesitated on how to respond. But pretending not to understand would be too transparent, so I shrugged lightly and nodded.

“Well, yes. I can’t just take Klimt back to the Berch family like this.”

I’m sure Klimt himself would frown and call it none of my business, but Claira deeply bowed her head, expressing her gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re all in the same boat. Don’t worry about it.”

I waved my hand while forcing a breezy smile. The truth was, I had no intention of obliging Claira by staying in the demon world. If she hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to say, “It’s partly for you guys.”

What concerns me more is what will happen after Klimt recovers.

Claira is stranded, unable to return to the Mitsurugi family. I plan to use that to my advantage and bring her under my wing, but I can’t imagine Klimt simply standing by and allowing it.

This will certainly complicate things. Well, if he interferes, I’ll simply remove him by force. But doing so could strain my relationship with Claira.

After all this time building goodwill in a peaceful manner, I don’t want to ruin it because of Klimt.

I’ve considered persuading Klimt through Claira, but given the situation, I doubt he would simply heed his sister’s words.

Hmm, I pondered, crossing my arms.

Klimt seemed concerned about those Kijin siblings. Maybe I could guide him to stay in the Underworld as their guardian. I could even talk to the siblings directly. It’s clear that they trust Klimt, so they will undoubtedly cooperate—Just as I’m lost in such fruitless thoughts, Claira speaks to me with a serious expression.

“Lord Sora—no, Master Sora.”

“…Hm?”

I blink in confusion at the sudden change in how she addresses me.

Claira, perhaps noticing my bewilderment, straightens her posture somewhat dramatically before continuing.

“I must offer my heartfelt thanks for your invaluable aid. It is solely because of your assistance that I live and have been reunited with my brother. I will never forget this debt for as long as I live.”

I was puzzled by Claira’s sudden formality, but as I look into her earnest eyes, my confusion dissipates.

Her gaze is dead serious, devoid of any signs of joking or theatricality.

Klimt has just woken up, escaping a life-threatening situation. No doubt, Claira had been searching for me with something pressing on her mind. Perhaps what Ursula told her also helped push her into action.

As if to confirm my suspicions, Claira slowly drops to one knee, offering the kind of obeisance that one would show to the head of the Mitsurugi family.