Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 10 - Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 
LIFTING THE CURTAIN 
“Ernest Fairclough…” Ayato stared in surprise at the figure of the approaching young man. 
Ernest, the Lei-Glems clasped tightly in his hand, came to a stop beside him with a charismatic smile. 
“What a coincidence, Amagiri. I didn’t think I’d find you in a place like this. Now then,” he began, his expression turning serious as he cast his gaze toward Mortis. “What’s going on here?” 
His voice was much colder than Ayato was used to hearing, and Ayato found himself swallowing his breath at the intimidating aura radiating from him. 
So this is what Pendragon is like when he’s serious… He’s a completely different person than at the Gran Colosseo. 
Lamina Mortis, however, completely unperturbed, merely called out to Varda: “I thought I asked you to clear this place out?” 
“…Don’t be unreasonable,” she answered in an almost-mechanical voice. “You know that mind control and isolation boundaries aren’t fully compatible with each other. It might be possible to maintain both against an average person, but not against someone like this.” 
“Oh dear, are you ignoring me? But maybe trying to dissuade someone who would ambush a contestant the day before an important match was doomed from the start?” Ernest lowered the tip of the Lei-Glems toward Lamina Mortis. 
“Be careful. He’s stronger than he lets on,” Ayato whispered as he readied the Ser Veresta. 
“I guessed as much from your exchange… Is that the Raksha-Nada?” 
Ernest, it seemed, was sharp-eyed. 
On closer inspection, the crimson blade was letting out a faint buzzing sound much like those of the Lei-Glems and Ser Veresta. 
“This is an important occasion. It may well be the first time in all of Asterisk’s history that we’ve had three of the Four Colored Runeswords gathered in one place. I would very much love to savor this moment…but I’m afraid it’s time.” With that, Lamina Mortis returned the Raksha-Nada to its holder before leaping backward into the distance. “I can’t say it went according to plan, but I’ve achieved my purpose here,” he called out. “I look forward to tomorrow’s match!” 
“Wait!” Ayato shouted as he attempted to leap after the departing figure, when Varda appeared in his path. 
“You’ll remain here,” she said, the piece of manadite—no, urm-manadite—inlaid in the necklace at her breast letting out a deep, jet-black light. 
So Sylvia was right… 
It looked like she had hit the mark in surmising that it was an Orga Lux that had usurped Ursula’s body. Its ability was no doubt mind control, and the cost of using it was the loss of one’s own body. 
“Ernest! Watch out for that black light!” Ayato, having already faced her once, called out in warning. 
He readied himself to counterattack with the Ser Veresta, but the black light soon began to wrap around its urm-manadite core. He couldn’t tell what would happen if he followed through with it. 
However— 
“No need to worry!” Ernest answered, as with a brilliant flash, the Lei-Glems cut straight through the black light. 
“—!” That’s…” 
While they differed in their specific abilities, each of the Four Colored Runeswords was essentially impossible to defend against. That being the case, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he had been able to dispel her ability. 
“These Runeswords, breaking through my abilities whenever they please…,” Varda murmured darkly as she gathered yet more black light into both hands, the writhing shadow quickly taking the form of a huge ax. 
At that moment, Ayato attempted to leap past her in pursuit of Lamina Mortis. 
Once again, however, she blocked his advance before rushing toward him with her ax of black lightning. Ayato tried to fend her off, but the force of the impact went far beyond what he had been expecting. 
“Ugh…” 
“Amagiri!” Ernest tried to fight his way through to him, but Varda blocked him. 
Ernest successfully evaded her counterattack, but as he did so, his face turned pale with shock. “This… This is no ordinary lady…” 
Ayato had assumed that mind control was her only ability, but that had been a mistake. They could forget about taking her on individually—she was skilled enough to hold them both back simultaneously. 
“Unlike my previous body, this one knows how to hold its own in a fight. Don’t take it lightly.” 
Of course. Ursula Svend had taught Queenvale’s number-one fighter and the runner-up from the last Lindvolus. He should have expected that she would be a formidable opponent. 
And yet— 
“You are indeed strong. Frankly speaking, I’m impressed…,” Ernest said. “And yet, I doubt you can win against us both.” 
Right. There was no doubting Varda’s skill, but she wasn’t at the level of Lamina Mortis. Ayato had only faced him the once, but that was clear enough. 
“Indeed. I could take either of you alone, but not together,” Varda admitted without hesitation. “But that doesn’t concern me. He should be long gone by now. In which case… There’s no need for me to keep this area sealed off.” 
No sooner had she finished speaking than the strange, oppressive feeling that enveloped them lifted. 
Ernest seemed to have noticed it as well. “That’s…,” he began as he glanced around in suspicion. 
At that moment, Varda released a burst of black light more intense than any Ayato had seen before. 
A ferocious pain tore through his skull, sending him crashing to his knees. 
So that’s how much power she was putting into her boundary…! 
The fact that she had turned it all against him now meant she was serious this time. 
“Argh…” 
Ernest carved the Lei-Glems through the cloud of black light, but for what seemed like the longest time, it refused to abate. 
When finally the pain stopped, Varda was nowhere to be seen. 
 
“…Dear me. Are you all right?” Ernest asked as he held out his hand. 
“I think so,” Ayato answered as he was helped to his feet. 
“I’ve contacted the city guard, so they shouldn’t be too long now. You can tell me what that was about once they arrive.” 
“Sorry to get you caught up in all this,” Ayato answered, his head bowed. “But thanks. If not for your help…” 
To be honest, he had no idea what might have happened if Ernest hadn’t shown up. 
Ernest, however, gave him a brilliant, almost-sparkling smile as he shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. I’m looking forward to facing you myself tomorrow, after all.” 
“…Me too.” Ayato grinned back. 
But at the same time, he was filled with questions. True, with the exception of the damage he had taken during the semifinal, he was largely uninjured. The worst that he had received from Lamina Mortis was the kick that had thrown him to the ground. 
Mortis was at least as powerful as Xiaohui Wu—and probably more so. It simply didn’t make sense that Ayato had been able to face him and escape unharmed. 
Unless he was trying not to injure me…? But in that case, why would he have gone to all this trouble…? 
Ayato had no idea what the man had been hoping to achieve. 
But he stopped himself there. There was no understanding something that couldn’t be understood. Even thinking about it was pointless. 
Instead, he directed his next question at Ernest: “By the way… What were you doing here?” 
Ernest, of course, ought to have been preparing for tomorrow’s match as well. Given Kirin’s condition, Ayato had reason enough to visit the hospital, but Ernest’s team had won their match by default, and so, they were perfectly able-bodied. 
“I came to see my sister.” 
“Oh, Team Kaguya…,” Ayato murmured, suddenly remembering the team from Queenvale that had been earmarked as this year’s dark horse. 
They had been soundly defeated in the quarterfinals, with several of their members sustaining major injuries. Ernest’s sister, Sophia, must have been one of them. 
“As her brother, I thought I should check in,” he said, his expression suddenly unreadable. “But I wonder whether I still have the right to call myself that…” 
“Huh?” 
“I’m the reason she came to Asterisk,” he said with a tired sigh. “It sounds like she wanted to win the Festa so she could take over the Fairclough name, setting me free to live as I pleased… Such a foolish girl…” 
“Setting you free…?” 
Ernest let out a resigned chuckle. “From the bonds of family. She was involved in an accident, a long time ago. She ended up hurting a good friend of mine. That led to a rift between my friend and me—no, between my friend’s family and our own, I suppose. She still blames herself for that, it seems.” Ernest spoke quietly, but he seemed to become somewhat more animated when he said the word friend, a hint of nostalgia entering his voice. “She—my friend—was very important to me, and there’s no denying that the only time I could really feel at ease was when I was with her. So it isn’t as if I can’t understand Sophia’s sense of guilt… But it’s all in the past now.” He stopped there, setting upright a bench that must have been knocked over during the previous fight, before urging Ayato to join him. 
As Ayato sat down beside him, Ernest tilted his head back to stare up at the glimmering night sky. “I’ve come to accept the bonds of house and family. You could say that I’ve managed to tame that sense of confinement. I thought that Sophia had realized that, but I suppose it must have still looked like a burden to her.” 
Not once did Ernest look in his direction. He half sounded as if he were talking to himself. Even so, there was something Ayato wanted to ask. “Is it really such a burden?” 
He didn’t know much about the Fairclough house, nor about Ernest’s particular circumstances. 
And yet, the young man sitting across from him had always come across as somewhat too perfect. Ernest was the kind of person whose fame seemed to just keep on rising to new heights. Endowed with strength, kindness, nobility, and a broad-minded attitude—and with a tenure as student council president at Saint Gallardworth Academy that simply couldn’t be faulted. And yet, Ayato had a hard time believing anyone could truly live up to such lofty standards. 
“No one can live apart from their surroundings. So the question is how to take control of one’s circumstances. I’m fortunate enough to have been blessed with the resources necessary to do that.” 
It was a vague response, but the words rang true. The way Ayato saw it, there could be no doubting that Ernest would be able to meet whatever bonds or expectations that were thrust upon him—no matter whether they were born out of kindness or ill will. 
“Selflessness might be the guiding principle for all of us at Gallardworth, and yet… You might not know this, because we’re cautioned against putting our desires into words, but there are many among us who would like nothing more than to win at the Festa and have our selfish wishes come true.” 
“Huh?” Ayato stared at him blankly. He had no idea what Ernest wished for. “In that case, why are you…?” 
“Some of us do it for a house or family, for example,” Ernest continued. 
Ayato, however, still didn’t understand. “In that case…” 
“You must have noticed how many of our students come from old families and supposedly noble pedigrees. It isn’t at all common for Genestella to be accepted by such families. If you want to find somewhere you can belong among such people, you need to find a way to prove your worth. That is, by winning at the Festa and using your wish to benefit them in some way.” Ernest’s voice was startlingly cold as he spoke. “Laetitia, Kevin, Lionel, Doroteo, Elliot—the same goes for all of them. But there are exceptions, too, I suppose. In my team, Percival seems to have a wish of her own, for instance.” 
No one can live apart from their surroundings, Ayato repeated in silence. The words seemed to carry a strange weight. 
“I’ve gone on a little, haven’t I? Don’t let what I said bother you,” Ernest offered, flashing him a friendly smile. 
Footsteps could be heard gathering in the distance—the city guard, no doubt. 
“Well, we might as well get this over with.” With that, Ernest rose to his feet, signaling the end of the conversation. 
At that moment, Helga Lindwall appeared at the edge of the courtyard, leading a squad of Stjarnagarm officers. 
Ayato, troubled in a way that he couldn’t easily describe, rose to meet her. 
 
The following morning, in the team’s prep room at the Sirius Dome, Ayato recounted the night’s events to his assembled team members. 
“Wh-why are you always letting yourself get caught up in things like that?” Julis demanded angrily, but she soon trailed off. Her face turned scarlet as she mouthed something to herself in silence, then sunk limply into her chair. 
“Ayato is always getting himself in trouble. You should be used to it by now, Julis,” Saya said with a smug look. 
Claudia, however, wasn’t amused. “Even so, this is going a little too far. We can’t overlook it this time.” 
“Oh? Since when are you prone to worrying, Claudia? But only when it comes to Ayato, it seems,” Saya pointed out. 
“Not at all,” she answered with a smile. 
It was clear, however, that her composure this time was entirely feigned. 
“Claudia… You actually look pretty cute, for once.” 
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel when you say that, Julis,” she answered, her expression a delicate mix of happiness and chagrin. “Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat and turning to Ayato, her countenance once again serious. “There are things I want to ask you about that, but we should save them for later. And there’s something I have to tell you all, too.” 
“What do you mean?” Ayato asked, but Claudia quickly cut him off. 
“Later. Right now, we need to think about the match.” Letting out a resigned sigh, she opened several air-windows. “This is a simulation based on my calculations…” 
“…That doesn’t look good,” Julis grunted in concern. 
“It’s practically a slaughterhouse,” Saya added. 
“Indeed. As you can see, starting off with a handicap severely limits our options. Which means that our best strategy will be…” She paused for a moment to close all but one of the air-windows. 
“A full-frontal attack…,” Ayato murmured. 
“Exactly.” Claudia nodded. “Team Lancelot specializes in team battles—to such an extent that they can practically function as a single, integrated unit. We won’t be able to counter that through tricks or artifice, meaning that the only practical option available to us is to put everything into our offense. But if any one of us makes a mistake, we will no doubt be taken down immediately.” 
“But we’re already at a disadvantage. If we take them head-on, how will we be able to break through?” Saya asked uneasily. 
Ayato, however, shook his head. “That may be so, but it’s what I was thinking of, too.” 
“Oh? That isn’t like you.” Julis sounded surprised, but she, too, had broken out into a broad grin. 
“If our odds of winning aren’t very high anyway, I, at least, want to fight in a way that I can look back on without regret… That goes for all of you, too, right?” he added, glancing around at the other three. 
“…Yeah.” 
“No objections here.” 
“Then, it’s decided.” 
At that moment, Ayato’s mobile began to ring. As soon as he saw the name indicated on the display, he hurriedly opened an air-window. 
“Kirin, are you okay?!” 
“Y-yes, thanks to all of you…” 
No sooner did her face appear before them than Julis, Saya, and Claudia all let out sighs of relief. 
“So you’re finally awake?” 
“That’s a relief.” 
“Indeed, that’s all that matters.” 
The three each smiled at her warmly. 
Ayato, of course, was of the same opinion. 
She seemed to still be lying in bed, but thankfully, her complexion looked much better than the previous night. 
“We were so worried… You wouldn’t open your eyes… How are they, by the way?” 
“Ah, yes, everything still looks a little bright, but it isn’t serious. A-anyway… I’m really, truly sorry!” On the other side of the air-window, Kirin bowed so suddenly and so deeply that her head filled the display. “You’ll be short one team member, all because of me…” 
“What are you saying, Kirin? It’s thanks to you that we were even able to make it this far,” Ayato pointed out. 
“Right. We’re nothing but grateful to you,” Julis said firmly. 
“You were the only one of us who could defeat Hagun Seikun.” Claudia nodded. “If anything, you should be puffing your chest out in pride!” 
“We won’t let your efforts go to waste,” Saya added. “We’re going to win this match. Just wait and see.” 
Kirin lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that had begun to brim in the corners of her eyes at this wave of encouragement. “All right. I might not be able to do much from here, but I’ll be supporting you all the way!” The areas around her eyes had turned red, but she shone with a brave, hopeful smile. 
Ayato and the others exchanged wordless glances before nodding confidently back at her. 
 
Meanwhile, at the Sirius Dome… 
“Everyone! How are our preparations?” Ernest asked of Team Lancelot’s assembled team members in their own prep room. 
“I’m ready to go at any moment now.” Laetitia nodded. 
“As good as ever. No problems here,” Lionel added. 
“Well, yesterday I ended up turning down invitations from so many beautiful ladies, just so I could get some rest,” Kevin answered. “But I guess we’ve all got to do our part.” 
All three were brimming with confidence, each, it seemed, already assured of victory. 
It wasn’t arrogance or conceit that led them to think that way, but rather their excessive pride at their own abilities. 
Whenever she saw the three of them like this, Percival couldn’t help but feel as if she and they were cut from altogether different kinds of cloth. 
“And you, Percival?” Ernest repeated, turning toward her. 
“…I’m fine,” she answered softly. 
“Come on, Percy, there’s no need to take everything so seriously. Just relax. Or you could try to be like Leo,” Kevin said with a grin as he laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a rather frivolous expression, but Percival could tell that behind that laid-back way of his, he was being serious. Kevin was, perhaps, the most astute member of the team. 
“Hey, hold on. What’s that supposed to mean?” Lionel demanded, causing Kevin to shirk away. 
Percival closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. 
Only then did she speak up. 
“I am your gun, no more. I will take the sins of destroying your enemies unto myself.” 
With that, the others all turned toward her. 
“I’m tired of hearing that,” Laetitia said with a forced smile. “Can’t you say something else for once?” 
“Agreed,” Lionel added with a sigh of resignation. 
“You’re a strange one sometimes, Percy,” Kevin said, nonplussed. 
Ernest, however… 
“Come now, everyone. There’s no need to turn this into an argument.” 
He, at least, accepted her as she was. 
In this team, with these people, she really could bring herself to feel at ease. 
It was too much for her. 
“Now then, shall we head off?” Ernest asked, glancing at each of them in turn, when there came a knock at the door. 
“Now? Right before the match?” Laetitia moaned as she went to unlock it. 
It was a stony-faced member of the administrative staff. One of Gallardworth’s, judging by the uniform. 
“Miss Percival… This… Someone from the institute left it for you…” 
“—!” 
That name alone was enough to send everyone into a stir. 
“What? Right now…?” Laetitia murmured, clearly fighting to hold herself back. 
Percival, however, simply stared at the writing on the card. “This is a fake,” she said without any hesitation. 
“Huh?” 
“It must be a prank. Don’t worry about it.” With that, she flung it into the rubbish bin. 
Right. It was a fake. And she knew just who was behind it, to whom that scribble belonged. 
It was a sign, one that could only be understood by someone who had grown up there. 
I always suspected he would try to meddle in my life again. But why now, of all times…? 
“Percival, are you sure?” Ernest asked worriedly as he stared into her eyes. 
“Yes, it’s fine.” 
That was the truth. 
At least for now. 
“…All right. We trust you.” He nodded. 
After a brief pause, he lifted the Runesword above his head as he took command of the team. “In the name of the holy nimbus, symbol of order!” 
With this, the four other members all stood at attention, answering in unison: “For Saint Gallardworth!” 
Meanwhile, in Miluše’s private quarters at Queenvale Academy for Young Ladies— 
“Didn’t you hear me—? There’s no way they won’t win!” 
“Right, what Miluše said! Ayato Amagiri can’t lose!” 
“…No, no matter how you look at it, Team Lancelot has the advantage.” 
“Right, right! Team battles are all about your combined strength! You’ve already lost if you go out there shorthanded!” 
Miluše and Tuulia were practically shouting, their voices overflowing with confidence. Päivi and Monica, on the other hand, looked somewhat sulky. 
Then there was Mahulena, caught in the middle of the two sides. “U-um, everyone, why don’t we try to calm down a little…” 
This was, however, the usual state of business for Rusalka. 
If indeed there was something that didn’t feel exactly right, it was probably her own presence among them, Sylvia thought as she glanced at each of the band’s members in turn as she sipped her tea. 
Just yesterday, she had been planning to go to the Sirius Dome in person to cheer Ayato on. That was, until late last night, when she had received a sudden phone call from Ayato. 
That in itself was a surprise, but the contents of the call were even more shocking. 
Not only had he encountered Ursula—or rather, Varda—she had been acting alongside this Lamina Mortis person. It wasn’t at all clear what the two had hoped to achieve, but it was obvious enough that Mortis was after Ayato. 
No sooner had she heard Varda’s name than Sylvia found herself burning with impatience and frustration. She had wanted to go to Ayato at that very moment to hear everything in detail. 
However, the championship was just the following day, and Ayato would need to rest. She didn’t lack so much self-control that she could think only about her own wants and desires. In fact, she should have been grateful to him for calling her immediately after talking to the city guard. 
And yet, she still couldn’t separate the two conflicting sets of emotions. If she was to go to the Sirius Dome and see Ayato, she feared she might find herself doing something that she would later regret. 
Which was why she had thought to watch the match with her juniors in Rusalka. Their uncontrollable gaiety would, she hoped, help to bring her own impatience under control. 
“Then let’s ask Sylvia!” Miluše announced. 
The gazes of the five girls all spun toward her, pulling her back into the here and now. 
“Huh? Me?” 
“Yep! Who do you think will win?” Miluše beamed, leaning forward in excitement. “Don’t hold back! 
Sylvia didn’t even need to think about it. “Team Enfield, of course.” 
“I knew it! See, see! Sylvia thinks so, too!” Miluše cried out, ecstatic at having found an ally. 
“I knew you had an eye for these things!” Tuulia nodded passionately. 
Monica and Päivi, on the other hand, were evidently disappointed. 
“What?! Really?” 
“…You’re just basing that off your personal feelings.” 
“Yep.” Sylvia nodded. “That’s what my feelings tell me. I mean, it’s only natural to believe in the team of the person you love, right?” 
“…!” 
She paused there, realizing she had been, perhaps, a little too frank. The faces of the five younger girls had all turned scarlet. 
As she watched their adorable reactions, Sylvia felt like laughing for the first time all day. 
She truly did want Ayato and the others to win—for her as well as for themselves. 
In the audience chamber of the Hall of the Yellow Dragon, Alema watched on from behind a nearby pillar, while the members of Team Yellow Dragon—Xiaohui excluded—knelt in front of the seated Xinglou, each staring at the live broadcast from the Sirius Dome projected in the huge air-window before them. 
“Hmm… So I take it that your shared opinion is that Gallardworth will win?” Xinglou asked. 
“Yes,” Hufeng answered, head bowed respectfully. “Kirin Toudou’s absence is a major blow and one that can’t be solved through strategy alone.” 
“I see. And you, Alema? You chose Seidoukan?” 
“ I DIDN’T SAY THEY’D WIN. EVEN I THINK GALLARDWORTH’S GOT THE ADVANTAGE HERE, AND YET…” Alema, her interest piqued, put on a self-satisfied grin. “ YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE MURAKUMO TAKE DOWN THAT YABUKI HEAD. IF HE CAN DO THAT AGAIN, NO ONE AT GALLARDWORTH IS GOING TO STOP HIM.” 

It was clear from his expression that Hufeng didn’t find that to be particularly satisfying. “But is he really hiding that kind of strength? He didn’t look like it when he was fighting us.” 
“ HEY, WATCH IT. ARE YOU SAYING I LIED IN MY REPORT?” 
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” Hufeng fell silent, glowering at her. It looked like he still hadn’t gotten over his defeat from the previous day. 
Xinglou looked down fondly at the two before clapping her hands together lightly. “Now, now. As Alema has noticed, there’s no doubt that Ayato Amagiri possesses some hidden power—or rather, that some of it remains sealed away.” 
“Master, does that mean—” 
“—that you think Team Enfield will win?” 
The twins asked, completing each other’s question. 
Xinglou, however, slowly shook her head. “I didn’t say that… That would be more of a minimum requirement,” she said, trying to stifle a burst of laughter. 
Her disciples, kneeling before her, were unable to read her thoughts on the matter. 
While at the Le Wolfe Black Institute, most students had little interest in team competitions; a great many uncharacteristically eager students—several dozen of whom had managed to sneak bottles of alcohol onto the campus—had gathered in the quadrangle to watch the championship match of the Festa. Towering air-windows had been installed around the four sides of the wide space, in front of which the gathered crowds waited impatiently. 
“Irene, do you really think Mr. Amagiri will be okay…?” Priscilla asked as she struggled to watch the screen from some distance away, a sudden nervousness tightening around her chest. 
“It’s not gonna be easy,” her sister, sitting next to her, answered bluntly. 
“Oh…” Priscilla must have realized that herself, deep down, but her sense of gratitude for what Ayato had done for her was perhaps clouding her judgment. Even so, she wanted him to win. She put her hands together to pray for his success. 
“Well, there’s no way around it. The odds at all the gambling dens are, at least, two-to-one. It doesn’t look good when you’re a fighter short.” 
“Hold on. Don’t tell me you bet on it?” 
“…Ah.” Irene looked away as her younger sister trained her gaze upon her. 
“I don’t believe you, Irene! Mr. Amagiri’s been fighting so hard just to get this far! How could you?” 
“N-no, that isn’t how it went! I mean, I—I was supporting them, like…” Irene waved her hands as if to take back what she had said. 
At that moment, however, the atmosphere of the space around them underwent a sudden change. 
An uneasy murmur spread among the gathered students, a sense of tension like nothing Priscilla had ever felt before falling over her. 
For a second, she had thought she had seen something stir on the other side of the air-window—but no, it was something else. 
Shock and terror, disgust and reverence—the air was filled with a potent blend of emotions. 
The crowd soon split down the middle as students scrambled to put some distance between themselves and the young woman who had appeared before them. They all knew who that eerie white hair and those ominous red eyes belonged to. 
“Orphelia Landlufen…” 
That name had come to symbolize the ultimate sense of dread in Le Wolfe—and in all of Asterisk. Two-time champion of the Lindvolus, Le Wolfe’s undefeated top-ranked fighter, was said to be the strongest and most feared Strega in all six schools combined. 
And she was walking straight toward Priscilla. 
But as she stared back at her, what Priscilla saw wasn’t someone to cower away from, but rather an individual filled to bursting with sadness and resignation. 
And yet, Priscilla’s body was completely paralyzed, rendered immobile by an instinctive, inescapable sense of despair. Her flesh had turned numb all the way down to her fingers and toes, her throat choking with an unreleased scream. 

“Yo, Ereshkigal. Did you want something?” Irene said, stepping forward as if to shield her. 
Irene truly did live up to her ranking as Le Wolfe’s number three, Priscilla thought with wonder. Even exposed to Orphelia’s aura, she was still able to confront her on her feet. 
“…Yes. Can we talk?” In spite of her appearance, Orphelia’s voice was surprisingly girlish and sweet. 
So why… Why is it still so terrifying? 
“To talk? With us?” 
“Yes. It has to be you.” 
“Oh…?” Irene raised a doubtful eyebrow before pointing at the nearby air-window with her thumb. “Well, I guess that’s fine. Can we do it after the match?” 
“…? Ah, the Gryps.” Orphelia stared up at the huge air-window, as if she had only now realized what was going on. 
Both teams were about to enter the stage of the Sirius Dome. 
“All right. When it’s finished,” Orphelia replied before turning back in the direction from which she had come. 
“What? You aren’t watching it? Not even the final?” 
“…I’m not interested,” she said without so much as a backward glance. 
She did, however, pause for a brief moment, tilting her gaze ever so slightly toward the overhead air-window. 
Team Enfield had just entered the stage from the east gate. 
Meanwhile, in Allekant Académie’s research facility… 
“…She’s out again, is she?” Camilla Pareta sighed as she came to a stop in front of Ernesta Kühne’s lab. “What on earth could be more important than the match?” 
She had thought to invite Ernesta to watch the championship with her, but it looked like she had come in vain. 
In fact, Ernesta seemed to be away from the lab a lot lately—or rather, she seemed to be leaving Asterisk itself quite frequently. In the other schools, leaving the city normally required going through a maze of administrative procedures, but at Allekant, which had associated research facilities and factories all over the world, the process was comparatively straightforward. Camilla herself frequently left the city to visit contracted enterprises and research institutes. 
But lately, Ernesta’s absences had become conspicuous. 
Just as Camilla’s thoughts had reached this point, however, a woman dressed in a white lab coat and with a somewhat unsteady gait appeared down the corridor. “Oh my, what do we have here? If it isn’t our dear Ferrovius head.” Hilda Jane Rowlands—or as she was better known at Allekant, Magnum Opus—laughed. 
“Who would have thought I would bump into the head of Tenorio here? It’s been a while.” Camilla would have preferred that it be longer. 
Camilla’s dislike for Tenorio’s disregard for human life and dignity knew no bounds, but her hatred for the woman who represented their way of thinking ran deeper still. 
“It has, hasn’t it…? Are you here to see Ernesta Kühne as well?” 
“Indeed… And you?” 
The question hardly needed asking. It was clear enough from the way she had asked it that that had been her intention. 
“Oh, it isn’t anything major. She seems to be awfully busy these days.” 
“She does.” 
“I wonder what she could be doing?” Hilda goaded, breaking out into a dry, rasping laugh. 
“Who knows?” Camilla replied offhandedly. 
At that, Hilda leaned forward, her expression one of exaggerated surprise. “What’s that? Not even you know what your dear friend is up to?” 
“…She’s in Pygmalion. I’m in Ferrovius. There are things we don’t talk about.” 
Pygmalion and Ferrovius were currently in an alliance of sorts, but that didn’t mean they shared all their research. Strictly speaking, their cooperation really only involved Ferrovius’s continued development of Pygmalion’s puppet research to produce practical armaments. 

That said, Camilla’s relationship with Ernesta on a personal level was something else entirely. 
“I see, I see. Do forgive my ignorance,” Hilda said in feigned apology, but it was clear from her bearing and expression that her words didn’t even run skin-deep. 
Camilla should have left it at that, but her frustration boiling over, she found herself remembering something she had heard a short while ago from one of Ferrovius’s many intelligence agents. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her. 
“…Right, Magnum Opus,” she began. “I heard that you tried to use the Murakumo for your own ends, but he gave you the cold shoulder.” 
“My, you are well informed. But you shouldn’t talk about it like that. It was only ever going to be a fair trade between equals.” 
“Oh? My apologies. But it is true that he turned you down?” 
At this, Hilda shrugged her shoulders, a weird, unnaturally innocent smile plastered on her face. “He did. But that was then.” 
“…So you haven’t given up, I take it?” 
Hilda broke out into a fit of laughter. “Why give up now? The main event is only just getting started, after all. He won’t have even satisfied the first condition until he wins the tournament.” 
“So you think Seidoukan will win?” 
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. 
Camilla could only frown in response. Given their circumstances and the current variables, it would be all but impossible for Team Enfield to defeat Team Lancelot. Camilla had nothing against them personally, but that was an objective fact. 
And yet… 
“Is there any particular reasoning behind that?” 
“No. Just my intuition.” 
“Hmm…” Camilla fell silent. 
“This seems like a good opportunity to let you in on a little secret,” Hilda continued, her eyes narrowing like a cat’s. “It’s that sense of intuition that sets people like Ernesta Kühne and me apart from the likes of you, Camilla Pareto. All great scientists are gifted with intuition. We have it. Mediocre researchers like yourself don’t.” 
“…How dare you?!” Camilla scowled back at her, but Hilda didn’t seem to pay her any heed. 
Camilla was well aware that her own talents didn’t reach the level of those belonging to Ernesta or Hilda, but that was just too blunt. 
“Ah, the match is about to start. I’m looking forward to it!” Hilda said over her shoulder with a backward wave. 
Camilla could do no more than grit her teeth in frustration as she watched her leave. 
Finally, at the Sirius Dome— 
“Team Enfield and Team Lancelot are making their way onto the stage! Two hundred and fifty teams have fought to reach this final stage in this year’s Gryps, but now only these two remain! Here we are at last—the championship!”