Atop the Divine Altar

Beneath the central city, a tangled maze of pipes and narrow passageways lay coiled like a spider’s web.

Very few people knew what they were for. More than that, many of the city’s residents did not even realize that beneath their feet stretched so many routes and conduits whose purpose and meaning were unknown to them—just as they could never have imagined that, before long, they themselves would become part of a vast nationwide transmutation array, reduced to nothing more than “alchemical material” for the making of the Philosopher’s Stone.

At this very moment, Kurama stood somewhere amid those interlaced passages and pipes, his eyes half-closed as he quietly received the information being carried to him by the magical plants of the other world.

The abilities of these altered plants were formidable indeed, but the underground network of Central was far too sprawling and intricate. Even for Kurama’s own dandelions, it had taken a considerable amount of time to map the exact destinations of the passages and pipes and untangle the ways in which they crossed and intersected.

Fortunately, however, the so-called appointed day still lay far ahead. And because he was officially missing, Kurama did not need to appear before others every day; it was enough to keep in contact with Colonel Mustang. Even at the temporary camp where Hughes and the others were gathered, Kurama only needed to drop by once or twice a week. That left him plenty of time to direct his dandelions in a patient struggle against this bewildering subterranean network.

And the efficiency of a focused demon fox and his plants was by no means low. In only three short days, Kurama had nearly fully grasped the patterns of these passages and pipes.

So, choosing a day when the weather was still fair, the demon fox brought his little white bundle with him and slipped underground through one of the entrances.

According to Kurama’s somewhat hazy memory, this place was actually guarded.

The guard was the Xing prince Lan Fan, who had recently fused with the Philosopher’s Stone and become the new Homunculus known as Greed.

Purely in terms of fighting power, Kurama naturally did not fear a collision with him. But the purpose of this operation was to secure the greatest gain possible without drawing anyone’s attention, so avoiding Greed’s patrols was the best course by far.

Besides, if he reckoned the timing correctly, the plotline in which Lan Fan captured the lizardman who had once been Greed’s companion, killed him with her own hands, awakened the former Greed’s memories, and then, driven by impulse, rushed to assault the Homunculus Lust at the Presidential Palace—where she also attacked King Bradley, the Führer himself—was now quite near. Kurama had no desire to alter any part of it because of his own actions.

Greed’s defection was one of the crucial forces that aided the war against the Homunculi. It absolutely could not be butterflyed away so casually.

Though he thought of it as something very important, he was still rather absentmindedly reflecting in this way. Then Kurama skirted around the route Greed was presently patrolling and vanished into the depths of the passage, light as a passing breeze.

***

Beneath the Central Military Command.

After layer upon layer of strict defense, past at least three sturdy metal doors—each requiring a specially made key to open—there lay, deep under the earth, a room that held the military’s most serious secrets.

In the pitch-black chamber, hundreds upon hundreds of white human shapes hung upside down from the ceiling.

They had no eyes. Their bodies were naked, and what was exposed was not the healthy flesh-toned skin of ordinary people, but a ghastly, marble-white outer hide that was strange and chilling to behold. Their bodies were gaunt, and on their bare chests the jutting ribs stood out clearly...

That’s right. These were the secret project the military had been developing: the undead army it hoped one day to mass-produce and command with the power of the Philosopher’s Stone.

Strictly speaking, these “soldiers” could not really be counted as Homunculi. They were merely killing machines endowed with broken souls through the Philosopher’s Stone.

Because the experiment had not yet reached the stage where these “soldiers” could truly awaken, the room was almost always sealed shut. It was the military upper brass’s greatest secret, and also... one of the darkest secrets of this country.

And here was the final destination Kurama had targeted in this operation.

In the gentle glow cast by magical vines from the other world, Kurama calmly surveyed this heart-stoppingly eerie chamber.

The white human shapes hanging densely from the high ceiling clustered together in such numbers that, even without being sensitive to crowded patterns, one would feel a faint creeping unease at a glance. The demon fox silently condemned the military’s top officials for their dreadful taste once again.

He reached out and kindly covered Mokona’s eyes, then lowered his head and rubbed his chin against the top of the little white bundle.

“Mokona isn’t scared.”

At those words, the little bundle wriggled its soft body and nuzzled back against Kurama’s neck a few times.

“Mhm, Mokona isn’t scared. Kurama is here.”

As it spoke, it even turned around all on its own and buried its little face directly against the demon fox’s chest, refusing to look out.

Seeing this, Kurama could not help smiling with unmistakable affection.

“Mm, Mokona is the bravest! Just bear with it a little longer, all right? Once we get what we came for, we’ll leave.”

The little white bundle gave a low “mhm” and stayed nestled against Kurama’s chest without moving.

The demon fox used one arm to support the soft little body securely, while his gaze, aided by the faint light from the luminous vines, swept lightly over the rows of glass cylinders nearby that reflected a strange blood-red glow in the darkness—

These long rows of cylinders began at the entrance and ran in a straight line through the entire room, reaching all the way to the far wall opposite the door. Each one was filled to the brim with Philosopher’s Stones and a specially prepared liquid.

At the crucial moment, so long as the hand lever beneath each cylinder was pulled, these Philosopher’s Stones would instantly become the source of power that awakened the white figures in the room and granted them “life.”

And without a doubt, these Philosopher’s Stones, originally intended as the activation energy for those white forms, were the very first—and to this day the only—object Kurama had ever planned absolutely to seize.

Although the sheer quantity of Philosopher’s Stones here still could not compare with the amount contained within the little man in the flask, the uncertainty of the final battle was simply too great, and the eventual destination of the Philosopher’s Stones inside the little man in the flask remained unclear. Kurama would not stubbornly set them as his target.

Moreover, compared with that, these stones were guarded by far weaker forces and were easier to obtain. Most importantly, though their total number was inferior to the little man in the flask’s, they were still quite considerable when viewed on their own.

Though Kurama would not, for plot reasons, take all of these Philosopher’s Stones, the number he intended to obtain was still astonishing. According to Mokona’s estimate, if Kurama took sixty to eighty percent of them, it would already be enough to exchange for some highly precious treasures from Yuko.

The demon fox was not greedy to begin with. After all, these human-shaped weapons would still have some use later in the story, and it would not do to reduce their numbers too much.

So after weighing his options, Kurama took from the glass cylinders an amount equal to sixty percent of the total Philosopher’s Stones, and then, as he had come, he left without once passing through the military’s front doors. Instead, he slipped away through the Central City underground route, vanishing without being noticed by anyone.

And when Kurama placed yet another Philosopher’s Stone into Roy’s hand under the astonished gaze of the man, three days had already passed.

In the Hughes family’s living room, the colonel held in his hand another Philosopher’s Stone, slightly smaller than the one he had previously obtained from the Homunculus Lust. The expression on his face could truly be called magnificent.

It was not that he did not want to ask where this Philosopher’s Stone had come from. But meeting the demon fox’s half-smiling eyes across from him, and recalling the Stone that had shattered just a few days earlier in Gascet’s hands, the colonel pressed his lips together. In the end, he said nothing, merely tightening his grip on the crimson jewel before tucking it into his pocket.

Kurama lifted a brow in understanding.

“That one got smashed to pieces by Doctor Gascet?”

He had known that old man was unreliable.

Though he had the skills of a State Alchemist and, as a doctor, ought to be of great help in studying the Philosopher’s Stone, in truth he looked dependable only on the surface. When it came to researching mysterious things, he was more reckless than anyone.

Add to that Roy’s requirement—to try, without altering the Stone’s general properties, to reconstruct it using materials that were not human lives—

There was no doubt the old man would overdo it when he got agitated.

And indeed.

After Kurama asked that, a flash of helplessness and... pain crossed the colonel’s face in an instant.

“That Gascet bastard...”

Though he did not answer directly, the grinding tone of his voice was enough to make the answer clear.

Seeing this, Kurama reached out and patted the other man’s shoulder.

“Keep this one safe and give it to Doctor Gascet after the appointed day.”

That way, if anything unexpected happened in the war, they would still be able to make up for it with the Philosopher’s Stone.

Kurama’s suggestion made a faint light flicker in Roy’s eyes, but in the end he did not refuse.

After that day, Kurama returned to the leisure-filled life that made Hughes and Havoc practically want to hit him.

Every day he slept until naturally waking in the small rented apartment with the white bundle beside him, and from time to time he would bring along some comfort goods and drop by Hughes’s station to visit.

Twice each week, like clockwork, he met with the colonel at Hughes’s home, exchanging intelligence along with their respective thoughts and opinions.

And so time flew by. Then, one day, when Kurama suddenly realized it, the appointed day was already... close at hand.

With a subtle, indescribable complexity in his heart, Kurama stayed by Roy’s side throughout the entire ordeal, witnessing at close range everything from the start of the decisive battle to Roy’s fierce lesson to Envy. Yet because Envy had not truly killed Hughes, he was not consumed by hatred and did not recklessly pursue utter annihilation.

And when Envy, as a Homunculus, was understood by Edward, he took it as a grave humiliation. After his attempt to sow discord between Edward and Scar through words failed, Kurama temporarily lifted the illusionary plant barrier around himself and Hughes. As Envy saw Hughes’s figure, it also awakened in him the true memory of the day he had “killed Hughes.”

Unable to bear such “humiliation” after being made a fool of by humans, Envy ultimately put an end to his own life.

After that, however, Kurama did not continue traveling with Roy any longer. Having received contact from the ground forces and learned that the Führer had returned to Central, Hughes—unable to rest easy with Lieutenant Ross and the others still on the surface—proactively suggested going up to check on the situation. Roy, unwilling to leave his friend alone, chose to have Kurama accompany him there.

At the moment Kurama turned around, he happened to catch sight of the black-haired colonel’s expression.

It was the expression of one who held an utterly unwavering conviction and would not hesitate to burn everything for it.

Ah...

So that was why he was called the Flame Alchemist.

The demon fox thought this with some dawning clarity, and then he went with Hughes to the surface.

After joining up with Lieutenant Ross and the others and confirming that they were all safe and sound, Kurama had not yet had time to return underground when the sudden onset of the total solar eclipse signaled that the little man in the flask’s plan to use the Elric brothers, their teacher and father, and the colonel as five “human pillars” to open the Gate of the World was nearly complete.

And amid the spreading swathes of black filth, while the people around him lost their lives one after another, Kurama stood alone in the darkness, looking up at the sky, which seemed to have been torn open into a vast hole—

There, the little man in the flask was trying to drag God down and ascend... to the divine throne himself.

And yet, in the instant he pulled the “world” into his embrace, Kurama suddenly went rigid...

There.

Upon that so-called “altar.”

He sensed a trace of... familiar presence.

A presence belonging to Mokona.