Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 15 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 
THE QUARTERFINALS II 
Sylvia returned to that rainy day when she had just turned nine years old—when Ursula Svend first came to her hometown. 
It seemed Ursula had set up a tent near the forest on the outskirts of town and meant to stay there for at least a short while. The locals had been left all flustered by the sudden appearance of this strange outsider, yet they didn’t try to drive her away. They were all good people. But even so, their timidity meant they didn’t actively seek out her company, either. 
Except for one person—Sylvia. 
“Hello. Would you like some coffee?” 
“Huh?!” 
Sylvia had been moving cautiously through the tall grass, hiding behind a large rock as she tried to steal a peek at the town’s visitor, only to find Ursula looking back at her with a broad smile. 
She tried to make herself small, glancing around as she wondered what to do. Five long minutes passed before she finally poked her head up again from behind the rock. 
“…H-how did you know I was here?” 
“Hmm… The smell, maybe?” 
“What?!” 
Could it really be that bad? She hurriedly sniffed at her arms and clothes. She didn’t normally wear these clothes, but she had wanted something that would be easy to move around in. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave them in the back of her closet for so long, she thought. 
“Ha… Ha-ha-ha! Sorry, it was a joke! I was kidding!” Seeing just how the young Sylvia had taken her comment, Ursula broke into a loud laugh. 
“Wh-why…?!” 
Sylvia could feel her face turning bright red as she puffed out her cheeks. 
Ursula, however, held out a metal cup. “I’ve got good ears. I could hear you moving through the grass and the gravel under your feet. Your breathing, too, actually.” 
Sylvia wasn’t sure how to respond, but as Ursula still hadn’t withdrawn the cup, she decided to cautiously accept it. When Sylvia brought it to her lips, she was surprised by just how sweet it was. The warm coffee was mixed with a very generous serving of milk and sugar. 
Sipping at the drink, she finally had a chance to examine her surroundings in detail. 
The tent wasn’t particularly large and could probably house no more than two adults. The sun was still shining, but there was a bonfire lit nearby and a small rock that Ursula was using as a chair beside it. And on closer inspection, the metal cup she was holding looked to be quite old and worn. 
“Ah, you’re the young lady who let me wait out the rain outside your house,” Ursula exclaimed, clapping her hands in sudden realization. 
Indeed. Several days ago, Ursula had suddenly appeared outside Sylvia’s window in the middle of the rain. Even now, Sylvia could still vividly recall the moment she had first seen Ursula when she had opened the curtains. 
“Thanks again. I hadn’t had a chance to properly set up my tent yet.” Ursula let out a refreshing laugh. 
She possessed a mature face, but she seemed younger than Sylvia had first assumed, perhaps still in her mid-teens. Her faintly light-blue hair was haphazardly tied back, and she was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts without any apparent makeup or accessories. 
“My name’s Ursula. What’s yours?” 
“…Sylvia. Sylvia Lyyneheym.” 
“Hmm, that’s a nice name. Ah, I’ve got some cookies. Please.” 
The older woman handed her a small paper bag she had left near the fire, filled with simple fire-baked cookies. Sylvia took a bite of one. It went well with the sweet coffee. 
“Um… Where are you from, Ursula?” 
“Where am I from…? Hmm, I was born in a place north of here, but I’ve been traveling around so long now, it’s hard to really say. West, east, south, wherever I feel like going.” 
“Traveling…? By yourself?” 
“Yep. Wherever my fancy takes me,” Ursula answered cheerfully. 
For the young Sylvia, that was all but unbelievable. 
“Isn’t that dangerous…?” 
She had never even left her hometown and didn’t know much about the world outside, but she could easily imagine the dangers a young girl traveling alone might face. 
“Well, it would be a lie to say I’ve never found myself in a spot of bother, but I am a Genestella, after all.” 
“Ah…I thought so.” 
Somehow, Sylvia had known that from the moment she had first seen her. 
Having never met another Genestella before, she hadn’t been able to pin down the feeling. But she knew. 
“You are, too, right?” Ursula asked. 
“…Yes,” Sylvia whispered. It wasn’t something she was proud of. 
“Hmm…” Having seen her reaction, Ursula clapped her hands together and changed the subject. “Well then, Sylvia, let’s hear it.” 
“Huh…?” 
“You came here because you wanted something from me, no?” 
Sylvia looked away, abashed at being asked so directly. 
But it was true, she had come for a reason. 
“…Y-your song.” 
“Oh?” 
“Y-your song… It was…so…s-so beautiful…!” Sylvia only barely managed to squeeze the words out. 
At this, Ursula’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Ah, I see… Ha, I’m honored.” A truly heartfelt smile rose to her lips, and for the first time, she really did look as young as her years. 
As she watched Ursula scratch at her cheeks in embarrassment, Sylvia finally felt a sense of familiarity with her. 
“What was it called? That song you sang when you were waiting out the rain?” 
It was because of that unforgettable song she heard on that rainy day that the reluctant and shy Sylvia had brought herself here. 
“Hmm… Sorry, I don’t really remember,” Ursula answered, looking troubled. 
“Huh?” 
“I’m always humming things, even without realizing it. So I don’t really know what it was… Sorry.” 
“Oh…” Sylvia’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. 
That nostalgic, intense melody. A clear rhythm that shook her heart and touched her soul. 
She had come here wanting to hear it once more, and yet… 
Not wanting to give up, Sylvia breathed a deep sigh, dived deep into her memories, and opened her mouth. 
“?” 
She could only recall fragments of the lyrics, so she intoned the melody alone. 
“…!” At that instant, Ursula turned white with shock. 
Was she really that bad? Sylvia wondered, disappointed. 
After all, she had never really sung much before. The only opportunity she ever had to sing was during the hymns at church. Still, she couldn’t think of any other way. 
“…I—I think that was it… D-do you remember now?” Sylvia asked nervously once she had finished. 
Ursula, stunned, flashed her a strained smile. “Oh dear…” 
“Huh?” 
“Ah, no, don’t worry. Sorry, but I really don’t remember.” 
“Oh…” Sylvia was crestfallen. No doubt she hadn’t sung it well enough. 
“But you know, Sylvia, you’re a Strega.” 
“…A Strega? Me?” Beyond that, she was speechless. That was the last thing she had been expecting to hear. 
She had heard there were some Genestella who could use a mysterious power that interacted with mana, but she had never even imagined she might be one of them. There had to be some kind of mistake. 
“Didn’t you notice how the mana surrounding you reacted just now?” 
She shook her head from side to side. 
To begin with, she had put everything she had into the song and hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. 
“Hmm, so you haven’t awakened yet…? Or rather, your abilities haven’t…” 
Ursula sank deep into thought before finally fixing her with a gentle yet serious gaze. 
“Wh-what…?” 
“Sylvia, how would you like it if I taught you to sing?” 
“Huh?!” 
Sylvia jumped at the unexpected development. 
“I—I… It’s not like I’ve ever wanted to be a singer or anything…” 
That was the truth. All she wanted was to hear that song again. 
“Well, I won’t force you. But you know…I think you have the potential to do a great many things, and there’s not much capable of holding you back. I mean, I’m strong enough to travel around by myself, and it’s thanks to my singing that I met you.” 
“A great many things…?” Sylvia repeated the words, wondering what possibilities lay before her. 
She was always locked away in her room, reading books, and of course going to church with her parents… She helped around the house a little, too, but none of it was anything that she alone could do. 
“Your voice is very beautiful and has a ring to it that can touch people’s hearts. I’m sure you could spin some wonderful songs.” 
“…Really?” 
Sylvia stared back, unsure what else to say. This was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to her. 
“Yep, really. You might even become a great diva one day.” 
Ursula was of course merely trying to encourage her, but the sincerity of her words moved Sylvia in spite of her inherent timidity. 
“A-all right…! Please teach me, Miss Ursula…!” 
After that, over the short summer Ursula was in town, Sylvia went to visit her daily and learned more than just how to sing. For Sylvia, who had lived her whole life in this small town, the older woman’s stories of the world outside were particularly engrossing. 
“One day, I want to travel around like you do,” she said, and so Ursula taught her how to protect herself, too. 
She taught her how to handle Luxes and manipulate her prana, trained her in how to move and exercise her body—and while they were together no more than two months, it was undoubtedly the busiest period in Sylvia’s life. 
Soon afterward, Ursula left town to continue on her travels, but the two kept in touch over their mobiles, speaking often. And when Sylvia finally awoke as a Strega, it was Ursula who gave her the most helpful advice. 
Sylvia continued to learn by herself, to train, and to grow. 
This shy and withdrawn child soon evolved into a cheerful and assertive young lady. 
This continued for several years, until— 
“Actually, I’ve been invited to go to Asterisk… Yep, that’s right. I guess I’ve been scouted. I’m a bit surprised they decided to choose someone as clumsy as me. But you know, I do want to go there.” 
That was the last time Sylvia had ever spoken with Ursula. Shortly after this conversation, she lost contact with her completely. 

  

She did everything she could think of to try and locate her mentor, but no matter how far she had grown, even as a Strega, there was only so much a young girl in the middle of the countryside could hope to accomplish. 
And that was when Petra Kivilehto of Queenvale Academy for Young Ladies showed up. 
  
“…I was lying when I said I’d forgotten it,” Sylvia muttered under her breath as she walked down the pathway onto the stage. 
Looking back, she believed the melody she had sung that day—at least as far she could remember—hadn’t been that far off from what she had heard. 
Since entering Queenvale, she had searched through every database of music from around the world she could find, but she still hadn’t been able to identify the song Ursula had hummed on that rainy day—which meant it probably wasn’t an existing melody but rather one of Ursula’s own creations. 
“I don’t know why I lied back then, but I still haven’t given up.” 
She wanted to hear that song once more. 
She wanted to meet her friend once more. 
That was why she had come to Asterisk. 
Before she knew it, simply by doing everything she could in pursuit of those goals, she realized the world had begun to think of her as a diva. She had become the school’s highest-ranked fighter, its student council president; she had made beloved friends and met cute juniors; and she had encountered the first person whom she had ever truly fallen in love with. 
And of course, an opponent whom she had to defeat. 
All thanks to Ursula. 
That was why she had to reach her, reach past the Orga Lux that had usurped her body. 
And precisely as Ursula had said, it would be through song that she would do so. 
“Here she is! Coming out of the east gate, our very own diva, the world’s top idol, Queenvale’s number one, and runner-up of the last Lindvolus! The great Sigrdrífa, Sylvia Lyyneheym!” 
Sylvia began to cross the bridge just as Christie Baudouin’s enthusiastic commentary filled the stadium. 
The dazzling lights, the excited crowds, the whirlwind of cheers, the unknown thousands watching her every move—Sylvia was more than familiar with it all by now. Rather, what had a cold chill running down her spine was her opponent already waiting across the stage. 
Orphelia Landlufen. 
Le Wolfe Black Institute’s top-ranked fighter and two-time champion of the Lindvolus. 
The Witch of Solitary Venom—who had defeated Sylvia in the championship match of the tournament last time. 
“All right, then.” With a flourish, Sylvia leaped off the bridge, landing dramatically in front of her opponent. “Long time no see, Orphelia.” 
“…” 
Orphelia, however, didn’t react to her greeting. 
As usual, her expression was ephemeral and sorrowful, her appearance as quiet as the depth of night. 
“Ah, you’re still as cold as ever…,” Sylvia said, turning toward her starting position, when— 
“Sylvia Lyyneheym,” Orphelia called out behind her. 
She turned back, only to find that her opponent now looked somehow colder still, her voice inexplicably forlorn. 
“Your fate was strong when we fought last time, even against mine. I wonder whether you’ve been able to strengthen it further… I hope so.” 
“Eh… You don’t look particularly geared up, though?” 
Actually, now that she thought about it, Orphelia had been on the back foot during the fifth round, albeit only for a short time, in a way she never had been before. She may have won in the end, but she had seemed uncharacteristically angry. For Sylvia, that had left a lasting impression. Maybe that heat was still there? 
No, unless— 
“The rematch we’ve waited three years for! Who will triumph? Our reigning champion or the world’s favorite diva?! It’s time to find out!” 
The two opponents continued to glare at each other, until to the sound of Christie’s voice over the loudspeakers, Sylvia broke her opponent’s gaze, returning to her position. 
She activated her Orga Lux, the Fólkvangr, just as Orphelia activated hers, the Gravisheath. 
“Lindvolus Quarterfinals, Match 2—begin!” 
And so the match got underway. 
“It’s hollow heart so cold, so cold, melting everything away, glimmering in the depths of the dark, the dark night sky…” 
With the raising of the curtain, a heavy bass began to shake the earth around her, spreading out across the stage. The mana around her started to react, swirling together around her. 
“The brilliance of a black star, drawing everything in, I’m falling, falling…” 
“Here we go! Sylvia’s first song! What does this versatile Strega, whose melodies can control all manner of phenomena, have in store now? But wait… Her song’s a little different than usual, don’t you think? Dark and moody…” 
“Indeed, Contestant Lyyneheym’s songs are typically elegant and moving. This one, though… It’s closer to an opera, maybe?” 
It wasn’t only the announcer and commentator who were abuzz—the audience was stirring, too. 
There weren’t many songs in Sylvia’s repertoire with as slow a tempo and as low a register as this one. That wasn’t due to omission (in fact, as a diva, she was familiar with all genres) but simply because such melodies were usually ill-suited to the battlefield. Her abilities were delicate, and if she were to lose her concentration or hit the wrong pitch, they would quickly lose their effect. However, when necessary, that problem could be overcome with enough effort. 
Like now. 
“Kur nu Gia.” 
But, of course, Orphelia wasn’t about to just stand by idly while she made her preparations. No matter how powerful or weak they were, she would slaughter them all with equal ruthlessness. And so it was here. The miasma rising from her feet took the form of a gigantic, sinewy arm, bearing down on Sylvia in an attempt to knock her off her feet. 
She took a step backward to dodge it, but in that instant, a second and then a third arm had already emerged from beneath her opponent’s feet. 
“Fallen stars out there beyond, held captive for everlasting eternity!” 
Just before those tendrils of miasma could reach her, however, her ability activated. 
No sooner did several jet-black spheres appear around her than they sucked Orphelia’s miasma inside and extinguished it. 
“Wh-what’s this?! Those black balls protecting Sylvia absorbed Orphelia’s poison!” 
“Amazing. They kind of look like miniature black holes.” 
Sylvia summoned a dozen of those black spheres—hollow stars, as she liked to call them—each of varying sizes, deploying them around her to defend herself. The largest one was a little over three feet in diameter, the smallest around the size of her fist. 
In their previous face-off, she had tried to use a barrier of wind to hold Orphelia’s miasma at bay, but to her chagrin, she had been overpowered. She had based these hollow stars on that experience, fashioned specifically for this opponent and designed to absorb and destroy practically anything. 
Nonetheless, when fighting Orphelia, sticking to defense would mean inevitable destruction. It was, of course, necessary to have a countermeasure against her poison, but she understood fully that devoting her resources exclusively to defense would only come back to hurt her later. 
Which was where these hollow stars came in. 
“Go!” she called out, shooting three of the black orbs toward her foe. 
At the same time, the arms of miasma that approached her were consumed by her defensive stars. 
“…” 
Orphelia easily dodged the projectiles with minimal movement, but Sylvia adjusted their trajectory. The first grazed her snow-white hair before gouging a deep gash in the bottom of the stage and circling around again. Where everything that those hollow stars consumed disappeared to, not even Sylvia knew. 
And she wasted no time before moving on to her next number. 
“Let’s tear down our walls; let’s surpass ourselves! No begrudging our wounds, run, run!” 
This was one of her standard acts used to strengthen her physical abilities. 
There was no mistaking the increased power gushing up inside her from the simple yet intense rhythm. 
Without this, she wouldn’t stand a chance engaging Orphelia in close combat. 
“…What a nuisance,” Orphelia whispered, and with a wave of her hand and a flicker of the Gravisheath, she cut right through the spheres buzzing around her. 
Oh dear… I was afraid that might work. 
While the hollow stars might have been capable of absorbing just about anything, they were still nonetheless the product of a Strega’s abilities. They wouldn’t hold up, it seemed, against an Orga Lux. 
Orphelia breathed a resigned sigh and readied the Gravisheath. 
The next moment, a series of dark purple orbs emanated from her. To the naked eye, they closely resembled Sylvia’s own hollow stars, but these were spheres of concentrated gravity, capable of crushing anything they came into direct contact with. 
And their number was staggering. 
Hey… Hold on… 
They continued to materialize, one after the other, more than a hundred of them in total. Sylvia’s heart wavered with apprehension. The Gravisheath’s previous user, Irene Urzaiz, had been able to use a similar technique but only after letting the Orga Lux feed on her younger sister’s blood. How on earth was it capable of doing this without sustenance? 
“…Go.” 
And with Orphelia’s soft-voiced command, countless of those spheres launched right toward her. 
Whoa…! 
With this development, she had no other option but to focus on evasion. Her own hollow stars would serve as no defense against something produced by an Orga Lux. 
She ran across the stage, diving and sliding away from the rain of projectiles. If she hadn’t boosted her body, she probably wouldn’t have succeeded. 
“—I’ll go to you in an instant! Leaping across sky, stars, and space!” 
She couldn’t forget to continue on with her next number, a pop song, bright and lively in her usual style. 
But just when she thought she had dodged those gravitational spheres, she found herself suddenly slammed against the ground. No doubt the Gravisheath had drastically increased the power of the gravity over her position. 
“If that’s how you want to do this…! To the depths of that fortress of thorns, I won’t make you wait any longer!” 
Despite the pressure holding her down, causing her to momentarily lose her voice, she continued to sing without any more interruption. 
Damn, everything’s going blurry… Tch, again?! 
Orphelia had deployed a new volley of gravitational spheres, aimed right for where Sylvia was pinned to the ground. 
“This looks bad! Sylvia can’t run or defend!” 

“It looks like she’s being held down by an area effect of increased gravity, preventing her from fleeing. This may be over quickly.” 
Orphelia mercilessly swung the Gravisheath, releasing those purple-black orbs all at once. 
But then— 
“Huh?!” 
“Eh?!” 
—in the next instant, Sylvia rose to her feet, behind her opponent. 
“…!” 
Orphelia, detecting her instantly, swung the Gravisheath backward, but Sylvia scrambled to the side, lashing out with the Fólkvangr. Her target, of course, was the school crest on her opponent’s chest. 
Nonetheless, Orphelia caught the attack in her left hand. It was only thanks to her infinite prana that she was able to catch the weapon with her bare hand. 
Argh! Maybe it was a mistake to come so close?! 
Sylvia bit her lip, jumping backward just in time to dodge a tendril of miasma that gushed up from her opponent’s feet. 
“Wh-what’s this?! What’s going on here?! Sylvia was over there, and now she’s…” 
“It can’t be…” 
“…Teleportation,” Orphelia murmured, as if to finish the commentator’s sentence. 
Yes. The second countermeasure that Sylvia had prepared for this fight against Orphelia was instantaneous movement. 
So long as she could perceive where she wanted to go, she could ignore any and all obstacles and appear there in an instant. She had missed a beat in her song this time and so had missed her target slightly; otherwise, her last attack may very well have ended the match then and there. 
…Well, that might be a bit too optimistic. Orphelia’s reaction speed is extraordinary. 
Orphelia had fought against opponents with teleportation abilities before. That was no doubt why she had been able to respond so quickly. But even so, the speed of her reaction was impressive. 
“Amazing! Incredible! Teleportation! To think that Sylvia had been hiding this all along!” 
“Contestant Lyyneheym certainly is a highly versatile Strega. Considering that Contestant Landlufen specializes exclusively in poison abilities, I guess you could call this a showdown between versatility and specialization.” 
Right. Sylvia’s abilities certainly could be called versatile. 
After all, she was a Strega whose songs could create practically anything. 
It was no doubt those words that Ursula had said to her that day, inscribed deep in her heart, that gave her the strength to do it. 
There was a lot that she could do and not much that could hold her back. 
“Now then, time for the next song.” Sylvia took a deep breath, carefully monitoring her opponent’s movements. 
“My irreplaceable friend, held captive by fate, your savior is here!” 
She sung the words rousingly, echoing across the stage. 
This song was the third and final weapon she had prepared for Orphelia. 
“Over towering walls, through hidden doors, past impenetrable cages…” 
At the same time, it was a song that she had filled with hope for her precious friends. 
“…I’ll break them down, I’ll tear through. You can count on me!” 
The lyrics were simple and direct—or, if one were to be less charitable, somewhat hackneyed. But that was why their effect was so easy to understand. 
It bolstered her attack power. 
A huge quantity of mana and glowing light began to swirl around the Fólkvangr, dazzlingly bright. 
Even if it wasn’t an Orga Lux, her weapon was close enough in power in its current state. She had concentrated as much mana as she could into a single point, and while the cost to her prana was considerable, her preparations were now complete. 
Then, uncharacteristically, Orphelia spoke up. “What an unpleasant song,” she murmured. 
Her face was downcast and shrouded in shadow, concealing her expression. 
Nonetheless, it was obvious from her bearing and aura that this wasn’t her usual self. 
“Disappear…” When Orphelia looked up, she fixed Sylvia with a deadly gaze, and with a swipe of the Gravisheath, she summoned up another volley of dark spheres. 
“Come with me; let’s return to those days that we passed together!” 
The spheres came flying toward Sylvia in even greater number than before, but now they were easily dodged. 
Measuring her timing as she evaded the projectiles, Sylvia again teleported behind her opponent. 
“You’re repeating yourself…” 
Orphelia, it seemed, had read her moves, immediately unleashing another tendril of miasma. 
This time, however, it was Sylvia’s turn to read her. She teleported once more, this time appearing above her opponent’s head. 
“…!” 
Orphelia’s response was delayed for a brief moment, giving Sylvia all the time she needed to deliver a blow piercing her opponent’s prana defenses and shallowly digging into her shoulder. 
Yes, I got through…! 
In its current state, the Fólkvangr could indeed break through Orphelia’s defenses. Perhaps for the first time, Sylvia now had a real chance at victory. 
“Whoa! It’s finally happened! Sylvia has managed to wound Orphelia!” 
“Incredible! This has to be the first time Contestant Landlufen has ever been injured in a match!” 
Sylvia flowed into the second verse, maintaining her readiness as she teleported back to a safe distance. 
“I’ll tear them open; I’ll break them down; whatever I need to grasp your hand!” 
“That song…is a real nuisance…!” Orphelia groaned, covering her face with her left hand, as if in terrible pain. 
Dozens of plumes of miasma flew again toward Sylvia, but their movements, like those of the gravitational spheres, lacked variation and were easily evaded. 
So there is something wrong with her…? 
Orphelia was certainly acting strangely. 
But in that case, this was a one-in-a-million chance. 
Sylvia tightened her grip on the Fólkvangr, feeding more power into it. 
  
Large air-window viewing screens were deployed all throughout the city of Asterisk during the Festa, broadcasting the tournament in real time for the benefit of the general public. 
After all, it wasn’t easy to obtain tickets to attend in person, and the prices had soared to astronomical heights for the widely anticipated matches of the main tournament. Not only that but the Lindvolus was widely considered the most exciting of the three Festa tournaments. Ordinary people—anyone outside of the wealthiest, in fact—were left with no choice but to watch via the live broadcast or hope to win a ticket in the lottery. 
Nonetheless, the girl was happy just to be able to watch it. Even if the broadcast was exactly the same, it felt different watching it out here than it did back at home. 
The real-life flesh-and-blood Sylvia Lyyneheym was fighting not even a fifth of a mile away. That fact alone filled the girl with incredible excitement. Even the other spectators, who had come all the way to Asterisk despite not being able to enter the venue in person, were filled with the same fervor, raising their voices in cheers and curses all around her. 
The girl was one of Sylvia’s many fans. At first, she had been enchanted by her voice, but she soon came to appreciate her dignified fighting style, too. 
The girl was also a Genestella and dreamed of one day enrolling at Queenvale. That was why her parents had brought her to Asterisk today. As it happened, they were fans of Sylvia, too, and were cheering her on as well. 
Ah, Sylvia really is amazing…! 
The girl wasn’t really familiar with fighting strategies, but even she could tell that Sylvia was pushing Orphelia hard. She might even succeed in defeating the reigning champion, whom people liked to call the strongest Strega of all time. And those thoughts fed again into her enthusiasm, her cheers further rising in intensity. 
But the most wonderful thing right now was undeniably Sylvia’s new song. 
To the girl, all of Sylvia’s songs were as wonderful as the stars glittering in the night sky, but this new one seemed to convey her personal feelings more strongly than most—hot, unwavering, straightforward. 
The girl suddenly noticed the figure of a robed woman standing diagonally behind her, seeming to be completely immune to the fervor that had fallen on the other spectators. 
As she stared up at the air-window, tears silently trickled down the woman’s face. 
“Um, er… Are you all right, miss?” the girl called out, offering her a handkerchief. 
At first, the girl thought her to be a fan just as moved by Sylvia’s performance as she herself was, but that didn’t seem to be the case. She was completely expressionless, and yet tears were rolling down her cheeks. 
“What is this…?” The woman glanced down at the proffered handkerchief, tilting her head quizzically. 
“Huh? Uh, er, I mean, you were crying, so…” 
Only then, when she raised a hand to her face, did the woman seem to realize it. “Tears…? Impossible, this body’s consciousness should be completely dormant…” 
The girl didn’t know what the woman was talking about. Her attention had been caught by the large necklace she glimpsed under the woman’s robe. It was a mechanical design and somehow unsettling to look at… 
The audience suddenly erupted in a massive cheer, and when the girl glanced toward the air-window overhead, she saw that the match’s pace was quickening again. 
But when she turned back around, the robed woman had vanished. 
  
“Whoa! Seriously? Seriously?! Is this really happening?! Is Orphelia, Erenshkigal, the strongest champion in the Festa’s history, really on the verge of defeat?!” 
“Contestant Landlufen is reacting well against her opponent’s teleportation technique, but she’s fighting purely on the defense. You would think that she would try to go on the offense now that Contestant Lyyneheym has broken through her defenses, but it doesn’t look like she can find an opening… The situation does look bad for her.” 
Needless to say, Sylvia had no intention of letting up on her attacks nor was she about to give her opponent an opportunity to counter. She kept teleporting from one place to another, launching into one hit-and-run strike followed by the next, whittling Orphelia down little by little. 
Yes, one of her targets here was her opponent’s physical stamina. 
“Haah…” Orphelia, narrowly dodging Sylvia’s next attack, let out a deep sigh. 
It was only her first strike that had actually managed to wound her opponent, with Orphelia successfully evading the continuing assault. Nonetheless, her breathing was growing ragged. 
Her most obvious weakness, laid bare in her previous match against Hilda, was precisely that—her ability to sustain a fight. Sylvia had long known that her opponent’s overpowering abilities were consuming her from within, but until now, no one had been able to take advantage of that fact. After all, no one had been able to withstand her attacks before. Not even Hilda, whose abilities seemed to almost equal her own. 
Orphelia had clearly lost her rhythm. Sylvia’s hollow stars were consuming her tendrils of miasma, and Ophelia’s gravitational spheres were failing to reach their mark. 
If they kept this up, it wouldn’t be long before Sylvia’s blade reached its target or Orphelia’s body itself gave way. 
However, Sylvia knew it wouldn’t be quite that easy. 
“Yes… I’ll admit it. Your fate is strong… But you know…I hate it. Oh, why…? Why does that song make my heart ache like this…?” Orphelia Landlufen, who hardly ever showed any emotion other than resignation and grief, glared bitterly at Sylvia. “Fine. Then it can all sink together…” As she all but spat out those words, she plunged the Gravisheath into the ground below her, funneling prana from her own body into the Orga Lux. 
By the looks of it, she was preparing to unleash the same torrent of miasma she had employed against Hilda, quickly unfolding into thousands of treelike structures. 
Now’s my chance…! 
Sylvia had been waiting for this—a time when her opponent would have to recover by relying on a large-scale technique such as this one. 
However, it would take time for Orphelia to channel her own abilities through the Orga Lux to generate the oncoming labyrinth of miasma. 
Sylvia switched her Fólkvangr to its gun mode, and at the same instant, she unleashed her Meteor Arts. Those movements, timed to perfection, were a step faster than Orphelia’s. 
“Guh…!” 
A bullet of light, strengthened by both Sylvia’s enhanced power and her use of Meteor Arts, flew straight for its target—and while Orphelia managed to use the Gravisheath to deflect it, the Orga Lux, perhaps unable to withstand the impact, was sent flying from her hand. 
“I’ve got you—!” 
Raising her voice as she approached the end of her power-increasing song, Sylvia concentrated her remaining prana and teleported across the stage. 
She materialized before her distressed opponent, then behind her, then to her left and right—appearing and disappearing in rapid succession. 
“Tch!” 
From Orphelia’s perspective, it must have looked as if she were in all five places at once. 
And then— 
“Yaaaaaahhhhhh!” 
—Sylvia, deciding on her target, boldly appeared before her. 
Returning the Fólkvangr to its blade mode, she lunged straight for her opponent’s chest with all her strength. 
“…!” 
In the championship match of the previous Lindvolus, Sylvia had been one step away from breaking her opponent’s school crest. But before she could snatch victory, Orphelia had swept away her barrage of projectiles with her bare hand. 
Once more, Sylvia’s opponent tried to block the strike with her hands, folding them both over her school crest. 
Nonetheless, the fully charged Fólkvangr was apparently stronger than those prana-reinforced extremities, piercing right through them. 
Victory…! 
This was it; she was sure of it. With how deep her blade had pierced her opponent, she had to have broken her crest. 
But the automated voice that she was expecting didn’t ring out. 
“Heh… Heh-heh…” Orphelia let out a sinister chuckle. 
It was a self-deprecating sound, cold and deadly. 
“To think… I never even suspected that I still had some left.” 
From beneath her hands bright red blood gushed forth, sputtering down onto the ground. 
And as she watched, Sylvia finally understood. 
Her attack had cut through her opponent’s hands. There was no questioning that. 
Orphelia’s blood, however, had melted away the blade of the Fólkvangr. 
And not just the blade—her blood was consuming even the body of the Lux. 
Panicking, Sylvia cast the weapon away, leaping backward to escape. 
“No, no, how can that even be possible…? It’s like the story of Grendel…” 
Orphelia’s blood, it seemed, was no different from that of the creature’s mother that appeared in the old epic tale Beowulf. In that story, too, the sword used to behead her had melted away. 
“My fate is— No, this is enough. There’s no hope.” 
Orphelia’s voice, Sylvia realized, had returned to normal—the epitome of sadness, resignation, and despair. 
“Yes… In the end, the only option open to me is to live with this cursed blood. Yes, yes, it’s been a long time since my blood has flowed like this. But you’ve helped me remember, Sylvia Lyyneheym…” 
“You know, you shouldn’t think so little of yourself… It’s an insult to everyone who’s lost against you,” Sylvia quipped as she activated her spare Lux. 
She didn’t have much prana left, but her song was still having an effect. 
I can still fight…! 
Armed with fresh determination, she readied her weapon. 
“My blood ties me to the seven gates of hell… Once opened, there can be no turning back.” 
Orphelia, on the other hand, didn’t so much as glance toward the Gravisheath, still lying where it had fallen. She merely held out her right hand, letting the blood gush onto the ground at her feet. The red liquid seethed and burned, and a white something began to emerge… 
That something suddenly soared into the air before circling around Orphelia. It looked human at first glance, but what it most resembled was a ghost from an old horror story. And it wasn’t alone. Another one, then another, rose up from the pool of blood and began flying across the stage of their own accord. 
“No…” 
“I should warn you. These spirits are born from an incredibly dense miasma. A single touch is all they need to rob you of life.” 
“What?! You can’t mean…?!” 
But Orphelia finished her sentence for her: “You’ll die.” 
She didn’t seem to be joking. 
There were more phantoms than Sylvia could count soaring above her now, but they still continued to emerge—as that pool of blood continued to grow in size with each passing second, more and more of them kept appearing, the frequency only increasing. 
The phantoms’ own speeds were increasing, too, and while Sylvia tried desperately to hold them at bay with her hollow stars, they were simply too numerous, their trajectories too unpredictable. 
At this rate…! 
“Ersetu la Târi.” 
No sooner did Orphelia’s austere, solemn voice ring out than the pool of blood erupted with explosive force, and yet more phantoms poured forth. 
“Wha—?! More of them…?!” 
The stage had practically been transformed into an ethereal otherworld inhabited by a raging tempest of ghostly apparitions. 
It was only thanks to her teleportation ability and her hollow stars that Sylvia was able to stave them off, but it was clear the situation was now completely out of control. 
And then one phantom somehow slipped in from behind, heading straight for her. 
“…!” 
A sudden chill washed over her as if she had been doused in icy water, and she felt as her heart made one final desperate beat before stopping still. She could feel herself falling into darkness, her energy seeping out. 
And so Sylvia collapsed in the middle of the stage. The last thing she remembered seeing was that seething mass of specters, and in their center, Orphelia’s crimson eyes staring down at her. 

“…Gagh! Koff, koff!” 
Coughing violently as she awoke, Sylvia shot up in her bed, tearing away the respirator attached to her face. 
“That was quick, Sylvia.” Petra, sitting beside her, looked relieved. 
“Where am I…?” 
Glancing around, Sylvia saw she was surrounded by medical equipment. She was lying on a stretcher surrounded by several paramedics. She seemed to be in an ambulance. 
“You went into cardiac arrest, but the medics resuscitated you immediately,” Petra answered. “We’re on our way to the hospital so a doctor can check you.” 
That was enough for Sylvia to understand what had happened. 
“I see… So I lost. Again.” 
Strangely, she felt no sense of fear or shock to hear that she had been on the verge of death. The medical staff assembled at the tournament venues were the best in the field and no doubt would have been able to revive even Orphelia were her heart to stop beating during the course of the match. 
“Just be grateful that you’re still with us. When you collapsed, I thought my heart was going to stop.” 
“Ah… Sorry, Petra. I made you worry, huh?” Sylvia apologized. 
Looking through her visor, Petra stared deep into her eyes. “Listen to me, Sylvia. I’ll never forgive you if you try anything like that again. The second you think your life is in danger, give up the match. Do you understand me?” 
“Yeees,” she answered glumly. 
She would normally stand up for herself in this kind of situation, but here, now, she decided to go along with her elder’s wishes. 
“Ah…” Petra raised a hand to her temple. 
“But you know, she’s strong… Yep, really strong,” Sylvia said, clenching her fists. 
It was a complete and utter defeat. In the end, all her countermeasures had amounted to nothing. It was so frustrating. And this was the second time she had been forced to endure this regret… No—this time was even worse than when she had lost at the last Lindvolus. 
“Ah, right. I have a message for you,” Petra said warmly, no doubt trying to console her despondent protégée. 
“Huh? From Ayato?” 
“I think he’s been trying to call you on your mobile. You can check on him later.” 
“Oh? From who, then?” 
“Neithnefer.” 
Sylvia blinked in surprise at the unexpected name. Neithnefer was Queenvale’s second-ranked fighter and had lost against her in their fifth-round match to decide who would face Orphelia. 
Apparently, she didn’t like Sylvia very much, but she had promised to watch the match, so it probably had something to do with that. 
“‘It might not have been much, but your song made a small wave in her heart. Be proud of yourself.’ That was her message.” 
“Heh.” 
This was a pleasant surprise. Sylvia had been preparing herself for harsh criticism. 
“I would say that’s her way of acknowledging you.” 
“I hope so,” Sylvia answered with a small smile. 
Her defeat was truly disappointing. 
It was disappointing, but there was more to it than that. 
She lay back down on her stretcher and closed her eyes to get some rest. 
Right, I’m going to have to change my approach starting tomorrow. 
There were still a great many things she could do. 
So many things to see to all at once.