Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 16 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

THE SEMIFINALS II

Once every few years, various top executives from each of the integrated enterprise foundations would come together for the Concordia, a summit in which they would collectively make long-term adjustments to their corporate road maps. In so doing, they coordinated the interests under their control and determined the future of the world. This time, it was being held on a luxury cruise ship sailing the North Kanto Mass-Impact Crater Lake, not far from the city of Asterisk.

While their ostensible goal was to coordinate their activities, each of the IEFs was, in actuality, in direct competition with the others.

The organizations might join hands for one project or another, but there could be no mistaking that, as a general rule, each aimed to expand its own economic sphere of influence by ultimately eliminating the others.

For that reason, only matters of catastrophic importance were to be discussed at the Concordia. War, for instance—one of many political tools with the potential to bring a reasonable return on investment but that could also prove a considerable liability should events get out of hand and exceed a certain threshold.

Fortunately, the world hadn’t seen a war on a global scale since the Invertia, though there had been several close calls. The armed conflict over Vertice Meteorites that had led to the demise of the former foundation Severclara was probably the most notable of these.

Since then, the integrated enterprise foundations had endeavored to avoid armed conflict as much as possible, each of them placing renewed emphasis on the importance of maintaining the balance of power. It was for this reason that the Concordia was held at regular intervals. In other words, the IEFs were, on a fundamental level, highly contradictory entities—they continuously sought out opportunities to destroy their competitors, but at the same time, they constantly feared any upset to the equilibrium that existed between them.

The only way this contradiction could be resolved was if one of the foundations wound up occupying a clear minority position. In the current setup, that meant if one of them was to go up against the other five, its only remaining option would be to go to war as the others sought to carve it up. Precisely to avoid such a situation, each of the organizations had entered into an intricate network of connecting interests.

Nonetheless, low-level skirmishes still tended to erupt every now and then throughout the world. Though rare, there were occasions when military units under the direct control of the foundations faced off against one another in violent confrontation without authorization from their upper echelons. Moreover, there were always countless cases of terrorist attacks against the foundations themselves.

As such, holding the Concordia at the same time as the Festa, and in such close proximity, made security preparations no small matter. And in a major tourist city, where untold numbers of visitors mingled every day and with so many Stregas and Dantes out and about, there could be no such thing as absolute assurances. Unexpected situations were all but guaranteed.

After much deliberation, it was decided to construct a cruise ship from the ground up to ensure adequate safety and confidentiality for the Concordia. Once the summit was over, the vessel would be converted into a sightseeing pleasure ship for the wealthy.

Well, at least things look like they’re going to end without incident…

Breathing a sigh of relief, a member of Galaxy’s security contingent stood close to the wall, quietly and unobtrusively watching the strangely tense exchange taking place in front of him.

The thirty people seated around the conference table were each top executives at one or another of the foundations. Despite their diverse ages, sexes, and ethnicities, they all seemed to be clones of each other—probably a result of the high-level psychological conditioning programs to which they had all been subjected.

Finally, this lengthy Concordia was reaching its end. The only event remaining on the schedule was to watch the championship match of the Festa the following day. So far, the only time the executives and their entourages had left the cruise ship was to inspect the tournament headquarters a few days prior.

When they had come to watch the Lindvolus last time, it had been from the special viewing lounges adjacent to the tournament headquarters, and no executives had been required to set foot in the venues themselves. But even that had been enough to make the members of their security details break out into a cold sweat.

Even now, behind the representatives of each organization, stood several security personnel ready to move at a moment’s notice in response to any unforeseen developments. Naturally, in addition to the executives’ own security details, there was an army of other security officers working twenty-four hours a day to ensure that the ship was fully protected, half of which had been assigned from Asterisk’s city guard, Stjarnagarm.

It wasn’t just during the Concordia that distribution of security personnel proved a major challenge. The same issues arose at most gatherings attended by executives from multiple foundations, though given their mutual distrust of one another, this wasn’t particularly surprising. There wasn’t a single corridor or doorway on this vessel that hadn’t been the subject of some dispute, of a pitched debate as to precisely which security officers should man it.

In that respect, it was fortunate that Stjarnagarm, being independent of the six integrated enterprise foundations, could be called on this time around. It was a shame that this meant thinning the numbers of an already short-staffed police force (there could be no denying that this would further undermine Asterisk’s own internal security), but the members of the city guard, handpicked by Commander Helga Lindwall herself, were excellent and dependable. Many of them had been leading students in Asterisk’s Named Cult; they couldn’t be bribed or bought off, and they had an unshakable sense of mission and duty. After all, if they had been concerned about money or status, they would have long since been scouted by one of the foundations—as he himself had been.

Yes, the man surveying the room was himself a former student of Asterisk, and he too had spent his youth participating in the Festa. At one point, he had even been a Page One. After graduating, he had been scouted by Galaxy and chosen the security division over its military affairs division.

Objectively speaking, the man had been a superb student in his own right, but not quite the best. The IEFs would no doubt continue to scout those who ranked higher than him—in other words, those who had stood at the very top of the rankings—to serve in their elite military divisions. But whether or not they signed up, this trend made it clear that the foundations favored offense over defense as a matter of principle.

In order to ensure the use of force could be adequately applied when necessary, the best talent (in terms of individual combat abilities) belonged not in the security division but in military affairs. The protection of VIPs was inevitably a secondary concern.

Why? To put it bluntly, for the IEFs, even top executives were no more than interchangeable parts. Of course, those parts weren’t easy to come by, and it was true they served a necessary function for their organization.

However, if, for instance, everyone in this room was killed in a terrorist attack or tragic accident, the injury, though great, wouldn’t be irreversible. The same would be the case even if those top executives not present were all lost at the same time, though that, of course, was unlikely. Yes, the damage would be immense and plans would be set back to a certain extent, but the foundations themselves would go on. The loss wouldn’t be so grave as to change the trajectory of the world as a whole.

For this reason, the foundations would invest a reasonable amount of human and financial resources to stave off such a loss but would go no further. The construction of this luxury cruise ship and the tight security surrounding it were all part of that delicate cost-benefit analysis.

The integrated enterprise foundations were like ravenous monsters. They would sooner sharpen their fangs to rend their prey than defend themselves—all to become even bigger, even stronger, until, when the time came, their innate contradictions would resurface, and they would set about tearing one another apart again.

Well, that’s a little above the pay grade of a mere security officer…

The man chuckled to himself as he checked the status throughout the ship using the small air-window at his hand. He knew that his job was ultimately meaningless, but it was still his job. He had to do it. Besides, weren’t most forms of work in this world ultimately pointless?

It was true. At this point, no matter what you did, there was very little on this planet you could change.

The rule of the foundations was absolute, and people had come to accept that. After all, they had entrenched their positions through amending government policy over the decades.

Of course, there would always be a certain number of people who refused to accept the status quo, but they were only a small minority. They weren’t capable of calling others to action. Even if, somehow, they were to kill everyone gathered here, it might have some minor impact, but nothing more. It wouldn’t be enough to rouse people’s hearts and minds. It wouldn’t open so much as a single crack in the system.

The world would never change.

Or would it?

“Yeeeaaahhh! It’s time for the last match of the Lindvolus semifinals! Our contestants are about to step into the arena! For better or for worse, there are only two matches left! Who will it be?! Who will face off against Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld in the championship?! There she is—our strongest, invincible, undefeated defending champion is stepping out from the West Gate! Having annihilated Sigrdrífa in the quarterfinals, her rival Sylvia Lyyneheym, here she is, Erenshkigal herself, Orphelia Landlufen!”

Saya stared at Orphelia’s figure from where she stood, just behind the doorway of the East Gate. Her opponent’s pure-white hair swayed as she advanced onto the bridge that led down to the arena, her grand entrance accompanied by a bombardment of deafening cheers and dazzling lights.

Frankly, Saya had never expected to make it this far. To be perfectly honest, fate had lent her a helping hand. If even one small detail had been different—be it the tournament brackets or the events of her matches thus far—it would have been someone else standing here now.

Nonetheless, it was she who had made it to this point.

Her original goal—settling her score with Rimcy—might have been rendered impossible, but she had at least been able to fulfil her duty by defeating Lenaty, and she was content with that victory. However, the injuries to her arms were worse than she had imagined, and she couldn’t handle her Luxes as well as she would have liked. It would be impossible for her to land a precise attack in her current state. Even in perfect condition, defeating Orphelia was a long shot—but as she was now, she could hardly put up a fight. Which was why she had resolved to withdraw.

And yet…not too long ago, a thought had suddenly occurred to her:

Whether through skill or blind luck, she had survived the tournament thus far, so perhaps there was some meaning to her success.

The more she thought about it, the stronger that tiny voice in the back of her mind urged her to keep trying.

Of course, it would be an utterly meaningless endeavor. It was dangerous, it offered no clear benefit, and the outcome was all but guaranteed. Anyone else would dismiss the idea as folly.

And yet…

“…I guess there’s no harm in giving it a go,” she murmured under her breath as she stepped through the East Gate to the adjoining bridge.

“Making her way through the East Gate is Saya Sasamiya of Seidoukan Academy, having just defeated Allekant Académie’s latest autonomous puppet in the quarterfinals with a humongous, absolutely insane Lux that left the whole world stupefied! As I’m sure our viewers know, Sasamiya was a member of Team Enfield, the winners of last year’s Gryps, so if she wins here, she’ll be only the second person in history to reach the championship match in both tournaments!”

“I’ll be honest with you, the odds of that are pretty unlikely.” The voice of the announcer, Mico Yanase, was quickly cut off by that of the commentator, Zaharoula. “From what I could see during her quarterfinal match, Saya Sasamiya sustained considerable damage. Frankly, I’d be surprised if she can even compete.”

“You think she won’t be up to the challenge, even with that massive new Lux of hers?”

“That thing takes a good while to charge. I doubt Orphelia Landlufen will give her enough time.”

Yeah, yeah, Saya thought. You think I don’t know all that?

Her type 42 super-large caliber particle cannon, Neunfairdelph, was the strongest weapon she had prepared for the Festa. She was confident its raw power alone was potent enough to defeat Orphelia, but she understood full well there was no way she would be able to buy enough time—nine hundred and ninety-nine seconds—to activate it.

As she leaped from the bridge to the stage below, Orphelia’s twin red eyes fixed on her with a look of resignation. Her expression was neither contemptuous nor condescending, betraying only a hint of sadness. She seemed utterly disinterested in her opponent.

No doubt that was true.

As far as Saya could tell from the video recordings of Orphelia’s prior matches, the only foes who had been able to prompt any kind of emotional response from her were those with whom she had a history—namely Sylvia and Hilda Jane Rowlands. Right now, Saya was just one more opponent, the next in line to be slaughtered.

But that won’t do…

With a soft smile, she tapped the microphone attached to her collar.

Orphelia, noticing the gesture, shut hers off, too. “What?” she asked with indifference.

Saya was grateful to be able to jump straight to the point. “There’s just one thing I want to get off my chest.”

“Go ahead.”

“I didn’t come here today to fight.”

Orphelia’s brow rose quizzically. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“I came here to talk to you.”

The young woman across from her slowly shook her head. “I see. Unfortunately, I have nothing to say.”

Saya had expected this response. After all, the two of them had never met, and she doubted that Orphelia knew much about her.

Nonetheless…

“I think you do. Because I’m here as a friend of Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld.”

“…” Orphelia remained devoid of expression.

Yet Saya couldn’t miss the fact that something had flashed for the briefest of moments behind her resignation and grief.

“You’re a friend of hers, too. So let’s talk, right here, right now.”

This time, Orphelia’s eyebrow twitched visibly. “No. That’s in the past. All of it. It has nothing to do with me anymore. More importantly, it has nothing to do with you.”

Those twin red eyes remained fixed on Saya.

The malicious intent emanating from her body was extraordinary. Just standing before her, the feeling of intimidation was enough to extinguish Saya’s heart.

But now, it seemed Orphelia had finally acknowledged her as her own person.

First steps, right?

Sucking in her breath, she caught Orphelia’s gaze and fixed her with a sharp glare. “Nothing to do with me? You can’t mean that…!”

She let a hint of anger creep into her voice as she continued, “I don’t know the details. Julis doesn’t tell us anything. But I’m sure she’s silent out of consideration for us. Because she…she cherishes me, and Kirin, and Claudia, and Haru, and Ayato. And despite that, she chose you.”

She thrust her finger in Orphelia’s face. “And yet you say it’s all in the past, that it has nothing to do with you anymore… How can I stand by and ignore that?!”

“…What else can you do?” Orphelia whispered, activating the Gravisheath and holding it loosely before her.

The tension had risen to a fever pitch, the air itself all but sparking with excitement.

“I’ll crush you! …At least, that’s what I’d like to say, but I know it’s beyond me now.” Saya heaved a sigh, letting her shoulders droop. “So like I said, I just want to talk. About what you’re going to do. I don’t know why Julis is so hell-bent on stopping you. If I did, I might be able to understand. Because that’s how you come to a mutual understanding. By talking.”

Seemingly caught off guard, Orphelia shook her head before slowly lowering the Gravisheath. “You really came all this way just to talk?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying from the start.”

“You didn’t think I’d just defeat you without answering your questions?”

“Well, I’m ready for that possibility, too.”

In fact, Saya knew the odds were quite high she would do just that.

Nine out of ten, if someone asked her to wager on it. After all, what reason would Orphelia have to engage her in conversation?

And yet…

Julis’s feelings were strong enough to compel her to face off against Orphelia.

In that case, Orphelia should be able to accept just as much. Saya hoped that was the case, at least. It ought to be.

If not, it would be too tragic for Julis.

“Yes… I see you’re determined.”

Orphelia’s eyes narrowed. “But are you prepared to forfeit your life?”

“—!”

Every hair on Saya’s body stood on end.

That was no idle threat—Orphelia was being completely serious.

In fact, Orphelia had stopped Sylvia’s heart during their quarterfinal match. She might have been successfully revived immediately afterward, but it wasn’t guaranteed that Saya would be so lucky.

“Of course I don’t want to die… But, well, if that’s what it takes.”

Her answer didn’t mean she had no problem with dying—only that she suspected, hoped, that her opponent wouldn’t use any techniques that would actually threaten her life.

The Stella Carta expressly prohibited acts of intentional cruelty, as well as those intended to kill. Of course, it could be difficult to distinguish between a strike meant from the very beginning to end another’s life and one that did so inadvertently, so the rule wasn’t strictly enforced.

But even so, there had just been the incident with Sylvia. Orphelia had already been reprimanded for engaging in overly dangerous conduct, and even if there hadn’t been any real penalty, should it happen a second time… Maybe. Then again, maybe not.

“…Okay. I’ll keep you company for a little while, then. Your fate is fragile, but you seem to be riding a strange turn of events.”

“Huh…?”

With those words, Orphelia spun around and returned to her starting position.

It was time, Saya realized, for the match to get underway.

“I’ll answer your questions. So long as you’re still standing.”

“…Good.”

In other words, if she wanted to get as much information out of Orphelia as possible, she would have to keep fending off her attacks.

“Lindvolus Semifinals, Match 2—begin!”

No sooner had the starting signal sounded than Saya deployed her vernier unit around her legs and hips.

The Luxes destroyed in the match against Lenaty remained severely damaged, and there was no way she could repair them all overnight, if at all. This vernier unit was just a spare. It had taken a lot of work to configure, but without it, she couldn’t compete.

“Tch!”

She immediately set about evading several plumes of miasma that Orphelia sent arcing her way, gliding backward across the stage. The tendrils continued to pursue her, forcing her to throw out a small object that she kept close to her chest.

At that moment, a fierce blast of wind exploded around her, accompanied by a dazzling flash and a tremendous roar.

“Whoa! Was that an explosion?!”

“Heh… Now that’s unusual. A Mana Grenade. Probably customized, judging by its power just now.”

Saya’s Mana Grenades, as the name suggested, were explosive weapons powered by manadite crystals. Unlike normal Luxes, the mana embedded in each could only be used once, so they weren’t exactly cheap to manufacture. And since they required separate triggers, the advantage of typical grenades—their compact size—wasn’t applicable. As a result, they weren’t often seen in Asterisk.

However, they did have unique advantages, such as allowing her to control the direction of the blast and easily adjust the power and timing of each detonation. It would have been impossible to use a regular grenade at close range, as she had just now, without getting caught in the explosion herself.

Most of all, their use put very little strain on her arms. In her current state, unable to aim with precision or withstand the recoil of her large-caliber Luxes, this was the perfect weapon. And as Zaharoula had pointed out, she and her father Souichi had set about boosting the power of the grenades.

And, of course, they’re good for dealing with Erenshkigal’s miasma.

Since Orphelia’s toxic miasma was a gas, it couldn’t be dealt with using ordinary armaments. Just as a blade couldn’t slice through a poisonous cloud, neither could a regular Lux—that would take the abilities of a Strega or Dante. Saya might have been able to blow the gas away with a well-timed burst of her high-powered Luxes, but even then, she would be constantly one step behind her opponent, who could quickly overwhelm her. In that respect, these Mana Grenades were particularly useful at dispersing Orphelia’s toxins.

There was only one problem—her limited supply. This time, Saya hadn’t brought any Luxes with her except for her Helnekraum, which had survived the previous match intact. Naturally, she lacked her S-Module, too. Instead, she had prepared as many Mana Grenades as she could carry, but even after attaching them to the inside of her uniform and to the holders around her waist, she could only equip sixteen in total. She didn’t need to worry about setting them off, but carrying any more at once would inevitably hinder her movements.

In other words, she only had fifteen left.

“…”

Orphelia remained unfazed, summoning up fresh plumes of miasma, which rose from beneath her feet.

Well, Saya had expected as much. Orphelia’s defensive power, fueled by her all but limitless reserves of prana, was extraordinary. Even if Saya did manage to catch her at close range in an explosion, how much damage would it really inflict?

But, of course, her goal here wasn’t victory.

“All right then, first question: What are you guys—the Golden Bough Alliance—trying to achieve? What’s your goal?”

She decided to start with the most pressing concern.

Given all the circumstantial evidence, there could be no doubt that Orphelia was a member of the Golden Bough Alliance.

Despite all the frantic investigations that Saya herself—that Kirin, Ayato, Sylvia, Claudia, Captain Helga and Haruka over at Stjarnagarm, Eishirou in Seidoukan Academy’s own intelligence branch, and Claudia’s mother Isabella, a top executive at Galaxy—had seen to, they still hadn’t been able to figure out what the Golden Bough Alliance was truly up to.

If she could secure an answer to this question alone, getting here would have been worth it.

“Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’m not interested in their plans,” Orphelia replied, readying the Gravisheath.

The next moment, a number of jet-black gravitational spheres came hurtling toward Saya. Orphelia had used the same projectiles in her match against Sylvia, and now she had sent more than a hundred flying across the field, forcing Saya to cast out two more of her Mana Grenades as she fell back—but not before twin tendrils of miasma slipped through her defensive counter.

“Tch!”

Left with no other choice, she tossed one more to defend herself. Now her stock was down to twelve.

But that couldn’t be her priority right now.

Orphelia didn’t seem to be lying. If she wasn’t willing to speak honestly, she wouldn’t have bothered to engage in dialogue at all.

In that case, Saya needed to think of a better question.

“…What are you to the Golden Bough Alliance?” she asked again, weaving through the pursuing miasma.

“I’m…an essential part of their plan, you might say.”

Bingo.

Saya wasted no time before coming out with a follow-up: “Then what is your role in their plans?”

Orphelia came to a sudden halt. “…I can answer you, but if I do, there will be no turning back. Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.”

“You realize Julis left your group to spare you from this, don’t you?”

“What a load of crap. I don’t know what burden she’s carrying, but we’re strong enough to shoulder it together.”

No sooner had Saya finished speaking than Orphelia’s eyes flashed with something other than resignation and grief—but as for whether that expression’s true nature was anger, jealousy, pity, or even envy, Saya couldn’t tell.

“…I see. Yes, I did say you were determined. In that case, I’ll tell you.”

“…!”

At that moment, Orphelia closed the distance between them in a split second.

Her current foe wasn’t the type to engage in melee combat, so her sudden movement caught Saya off guard—but she quickly activated her vernier and beat a hasty retreat, the tip of the Gravisheath passing directly before her eyes and slicing clean through her fringe.

And with that lunge, she heard Orphelia murmur:

“To kill you. All of you.”

Kirin stopped in her tracks to the sound of loud cheers erupting around her.

She was in the Rotlicht in Asterisk’s redevelopment area.

The sun was still out, which meant that a good many shops had yet to open their doors. The crowds weren’t quite as large as would be expected at night, but there was still a lively commotion in front of a large screen set up at the street corner. A full half of the crowd were clearly outsiders—in other words, tourists—and the other half probably worked in the nightclubs that could be found throughout the Rotlicht, or else belonged to the organized crime groups that made it their stronghold.

The screen, of course, was showing the semifinal match between Saya and Orphelia.

Kirin glanced up to catch a glimpse of Saya’s desperate struggle…then immediately shook her head and scurried away.

She wanted to support her, she really did—but right now, she had her own mission to complete.

And above all, Saya herself had forbidden her from interfering.

“…I don’t need support. I’m not planning to win anyway. I want you all on the tail of the Golden Bough Alliance.”

That was what she had said, and Kirin had been unable to voice any objections.

Still, she wanted to do everything in her power to help.

Just as Ayato considered Julis his cherished tag team partner, so too did Kirin consider Saya hers.

Even if Saya didn’t intend to win this fight, there was no telling what might happen to her in a contest against Orphelia Landlufen. It would quite literally be a battle for survival.

Saya knew that, of course, but still she had decided to meet her opponent in the arena. Not for herself, but for Julis. For her friends.

“If Orphelia is part of the Golden Bough Alliance, we might be able to get some information out of her. But even if we can’t, we might still be able to help Julis some other way. Of course, I’ll throw in the towel if things look bad, so don’t worry.”

With those words, Saya had adopted her usual confident pose, making a victory sign with her fingers.

As that image flashed again before her eyes, Kirin warmed with pride.

If she’s willing to go that far, I’ll need to do my best, too…!

Her mission was to locate Madiath Mesa, whose whereabouts were presently unknown.

Of course, without any clues to go off, that wasn’t exactly an easy task.

If you wanted to lie low in Asterisk, the easiest place to do so was the redevelopment area, the Rotlicht in particular. The second best option would probably be the city’s underground block.

Both were presently the subject of extensive investigation by Stjarnagarm, but with the city guard’s shortage of manpower, they couldn’t search everywhere.

In any case, Kirin needed intel, which was why she was about to make contact with a certain mafia boss at Claudia’s request. Although not as extensive as the intelligence agencies run by the various schools, the information networks of Asterisk’s organized crime groups weren’t to be underestimated. Moreover, since this particular group was staunchly opposed to Le Wolfe, it was less likely to be under Dirk’s sway.

To be honest, Kirin was a little worried about dealing with the mafia, but with Eishirou’s help and Claudia’s guidance (probably based on information from one of their rival organizations), she had brought a small present to get started on the right foot. She would manage, somehow. By this point, Ayato would probably be looking into another such group, in order to boost their chances of success.

I—I am scared, but…I can do this!

She was always scared, always giving in to her own cowardice—but now, forcing herself to regain her composure, she glanced over her shoulder.

The screen was showing a close-up of Saya’s face, awash with grim determination as she fought to survive Orphelia’s onslaught.

“To kill you. All of you.”

Saya felt her whole body break out in a cold sweat. Her heart was racing.

Not because she had only narrowly escaped being decapitated by the Gravisheath—but because Orphelia’s voice rang with the terrifying tone of truth.

“Kill? All of us? What do you mean…?”

She just couldn’t understand.

“Exactly what I said. My role is to kill everyone in this place…no, this whole city.”

Saya was at a loss for words. “That’s…”

“Impossible? No, I can do it. Surely you must be aware. The poison produced by my abilities can be adapted in effect and potency. Of course, all it would take is a single drop to end a person’s life.”

Her voice filled with self-assurance, Orphelia drew in the miasma roiling at her feet, playing with it as it coiled around her arms.

“You need to keep it at a certain concentration to control it like this, but without that control, it would spread all over this man-made island. There would be no containing it, then. I could destroy the entire protective field encasing this stage right now.”

“…”

Saya shuddered but fought to regain her composure and think.

If—if Orphelia really did that, the number of casualties would be terrifyingly high. After all, this stadium alone currently housed more than a hundred thousand spectators. On top of that, Asterisk was one of the world’s leading tourist destinations, and it was now the height of travel season. If you added to that all the people living in the city’s residential districts and the students of the six schools, the number would be even higher.

“However, if I were to let my abilities burn out of control, my body would be unable to keep up. So I wouldn’t be here to see the outcome for myself.” Her tone matter-of-fact, Orphelia twisted the miasma circling around her into a giant arm. “Kur nu Gia.”

A single Mana Grenade wouldn’t be enough to disperse a cloud of miasma that size.

Left with no other choice, Saya cast three of her explosives all at once, letting loose a storm-like blast that stopped the arm of toxins reaching out to her in its tracks. Nonetheless, she had failed to completely dissolve it, and the arm maintained its form. Clicking her tongue in dismay, she added another two Mana Grenades.

Now she was down to only seven.

“Are you willing to give up your own life? Even when you don’t know their endgame…?!” Saya cried, pushing her vernier unit as hard as it would go. She fell back as several more miasma tendrils reached out to snare her.

“Didn’t you hear me? They didn’t refuse to tell me. I just wasn’t interested in listening. Of course, I do remember how when Dirk Eberwein took charge of me, he went on about changing the world or something like that… Well, I’m sure you’ve heard that story before. My life means nothing to me anymore. Everything comes second to my fate,” Orphelia stated plainly.

“You’ve got to be kidding! What kind of fate is that?!”

It was unimaginable, unforgivable, to take the lives of so many for such an incomprehensible reason.

With any other opponent, she might have lashed out in anger at these remarks—but right now, her priority had to be to get as much information as possible while she still could.

Calming her passions as she dodged the miasma tendrils, she ran left and right across the stage until finally she was cornered, forced to cast out another two Mana Grenades to survive Orphelia’s unrelenting assault.

Five left now.

“Does Julis know all this?”

“Yes. I told her.”

“Then…”

In that case, was Julis trying to solve this by herself?

But it seemed too urgent, too enormous, for her to keep secret merely out of concern for her childhood friend. She should have reported a threat of this magnitude to Stjarnagarm immediately, or even left it to the IEFs themselves to deal with. The security forces would have been able to take formal precautions, such as securing evidence—though the foundations, if left to themselves, would probably have tried to solve it by disposing of Orphelia, just as they had attempted to eliminate Claudia in the past.

However great Orphelia’s value to them, surely Solnage, which backed Le Wolfe, wouldn’t have hesitated to do just that. And if they did, then all six of the foundations would become Orphelia’s enemy, and as powerful as she was, she was still just one person. She would only be able to resist so far.

“You’re wondering why Julis hasn’t acted yet, aren’t you?” Orphelia asked, as though reading her mind.

Then with a swing of the Gravisheath, she summoned up a second barrage of gravitational spheres.

“The answer is simple: because the game has already begun.”

“Huh…?”

Saya was forced to hurl two more Mana Grenades, reducing her stock to three.

“It certainly wouldn’t be that hard to stop me, if the right organization took the appropriate steps. They could exert pressure, plan an assassination, or dispatch a squad of elite troops to eliminate me by force. But the situation has moved far beyond that point now.”

“Far beyond that…?”

“They’ve been reaching out to collaborators for a very long time. You already know, I’m sure. The Lux with mental interference abilities, the one capable of brainwashing people? They already have Stjarnagarm and the foundations in the palm of their hand. Of course, those collaborators aren’t always entirely compliant, and they’re not always in the highest of positions. They might not be able to call off an operation once it gets underway… But even so, they serve as eyes and ears.”

Lowering her hand, Orphelia called off her attack for a moment. “If they ever suspected that someone had caught on to me or to the Golden Bough Alliance, the plan was supposed to be put in motion. Ideally, it was to take place after the Lindvolus’s championship match, but that isn’t a strict requirement. They could have initiated it at any time—today, tomorrow, yesterday, a week ago, even last year if they had felt like it. All they need to do is give me the order.”

Saya’s breath caught in her throat.

Did that mean the Golden Bough Alliance had already won?

In other words, if she was to tell anyone about Orphelia’s purpose, she would in effect trigger a large-scale terrorist attack?

No wonder Julis had decided not to share that information and instead tried to find a solution by herself. She hadn’t had any other choice.

Strictly speaking, she could have fled to save her own life at the expense of everyone else’s, but she would have never chosen that path.

Has Julis been struggling with this secret the whole time?

Saya herself was almost crushed by the weight of what she had just learned. No, no one should be forced to protect a secret that could spell the end of more than a million lives.

“…!”

At that moment, an unprecedented volley of miasma tendrils shot toward her.

She immediately threw two of her remaining Mana Grenades but was unable to block all of the attack and was forced at the last minute to release her final explosive. Her stock was now empty, zero.

In any event, she needed to fall back…

With that thought occupying her brain, she was just about to increase the output of her vernier unit when she fell crashing to the ground.

“Gah…?!”

Is this the Gravisheath’s…?!

Glancing up, she saw that the Orga Lux was radiating an eerie, pale glow.

While the weapon’s basic ability increased the gravitational force exerted on a designated target area, since those coordinates needed to be precisely defined, it was supposed to be ineffective on an opponent as fast-moving as she was now.

And yet, as Saya tried desperately to claw out of the weapon’s range, Orphelia spoke. “It’s useless,” she said. “The Gravisheath is affecting everything on this stage except the area immediately surrounding me.”

“…”

The Orga Lux’s former user, Irene Urzaiz, had only been able to pull off that trick by overloading the weapon, but it seemed Orphelia could now do so with ease.

Nonetheless, while Orphelia herself remained cool and soft-spoken, a low, jarring, grating sound emerged from the Gravisheath, like a voice replete with suffering and enmity.

“Are you satisfied? Now you share Julis’s secret.” Orphelia spoke darkly, staring down at her. “But don’t worry. You won’t have to suffer anymore.”

Tendrils of her miasma unfurled, rising one by one around her feet, like arms rearing up from hell.

“Given your prana…this should be about enough poison, I suppose? When you wake up, it will be too late. Either that, or you will never wake again. Perhaps that too is your destiny.”

Hearing those words, Saya realized something:

The poison that had affected Ayato during his fight with Orphelia in Lieseltania had affected his prana, forcing it to deplete itself. The greater one’s innate reserves, the stronger the effect would be.

In that case, this was no time to hesitate.

“Ngh…!”

Compelling her aching limbs to move, she dragged the activation body of her Lux from its holder.

A huge gun barrel manifested before her, the weapon plunging hard into the ground. Saya, however, paid that no mind, using the LOBOS transition method to pour all her energy into its core—right up to the point that it risked exploding.

“Type thirty-eight Lux grenade launcher, Helnekraum—Full Blast!”

The same moment Saya pulled the trigger, Orphelia’s miasma arms raced toward her all at once.

Even though it had been fired without proper aiming, with a deafening roar, the burst of light that erupted from the gun struck Orphelia head-on.

The ensuing blast and shock wave were even more powerful than that of Saya’s Mana Grenades.

Nonetheless, when the dust cleared, Orphelia was standing there nonplussed, her hand outstretched.

Did she stop all that with just her left hand…?

And using nothing more than her prana…?

Her defenses, it seemed, were just as robust as Lenaty’s armored plating.

Her consciousness quickly fading, Saya glared back at the pair of crimson eyes watching her from above.

What she saw there was unmistakably something other than grief and resignation.

“And there we have it, the second semifinal match has been decided! As expected, the winner is none other than Orphelia Landlufen! That said, I don’t think it went down exactly as we had all been anticipating, so why don’t you let our viewers hear your thoughts, Zaharoula?”

“Yes, well, it looked to me like Saya Sasamiya never intended to aim for victory. First of all—”

In the dimly lit corridor leading up to the prep room, Julis, who had been watching the match alone with her back to the wall, let out a small sigh and closed the air-window.

She had known how it would end from the very beginning.

And yet, Saya had insisted on challenging Orphelia, saying she wanted to try a new approach.

Julis hadn’t been able to tell whether she had succeeded, but judging from Orphelia’s behavior, somehow different from her usual self, Saya may indeed have accomplished her goals to some extent.

“That girl does try the strangest things, wouldn’t you say?” a childlike figure said from the doorway, cackling. It was Xinglou Fan.

“…So you came.”

“Of course. Ah, yours was a brilliant spectacle. To think you overwhelmed the Murakumo. It must have hurt to be forced to show your trump card early, no?”

“I didn’t have any other choice. I wouldn’t have been able to beat him without resorting to my Queen of the Night technique… But hold on, what do you mean exactly? Saya tries the strangest things…? Do you know what she was doing down there?”

Xinglou nodded solemnly. “I read her lips. It seems that fight was but a pretense to engage her foe in dialogue.”

“To talk with her…? In the middle of a match? Against Orphelia?”

“Oh-ho-ho! A bold move indeed,” Xinglou chuckled. “The mark of a true friend, no?”

Julis recognized at once just how reckless that course of action had been.

Orphelia rarely wasted her time during a match. Whether she was facing off against a strong opponent or a weak one, she would do everything within her power to overwhelm them at the first opportunity.

The notion of talking to her, of engaging her in dialogue, would normally be unthinkable.

But the way she looked to have been conversing with Saya…

“Do you know what they said?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. It isn’t quite so easy, with them both flying all over the stage nonstop. That stripling in particular likes to hide behind her explosions… But it was something about that crazy plot hatched up by Orphelia’s associates.”

“…!” Julis found herself staring back at Xinglou in shock.

“Don’t tell me you already know everything?”

Julis was certainly in Xinglou’s debt, but her response here, if she wasn’t careful, could end up ruining their relationship.

“Oh? You have a strong spirit, I see. You’re getting good at this, aren’t you?” Xinglou didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by Julis’s gaze, fixing her with a satisfied grin. “Oh, don’t glare. Yes, I too know of them. They even invited me to join. But I’ve never given them that satisfaction. All I know of their plan…is that they’re trying to cause a second Invertia.”

Was this the same plan that Haruka had previously undermined?

“I’m afraid I don’t know their current agenda, but if it’s anything like it was last time, I’m quite certain it’s nothing good.”

“…”

Julis stared hard into Xinglou’s eyes, her tension gradually easing.

She could discern no lie behind those words.

“All right. I’ll believe you… But I do have another question.”

“Oh? What now?”

“Couldn’t you bring an end to their plans?”

That task was difficult enough for Julis even with the help of Ayato, Stjarnagarm, and the foundations, but surely the Ban’yuu Tenra ought to have the strength and ability?

“Perhaps. It certainly wouldn’t be easy. But then again, it wouldn’t be impossible, either.”

“In that case—”

“But I’m afraid I can’t.” Xinglou cut her off. “I am unbound by the laws of this world. Should I so wish, none would be able to stop me—no human laws, no IEF. Only the rules that I have set for myself.”

“You mean…you’ve set the rules that govern your existence by yourself?”

“Yes.” Xinglou nodded. Her words were jarring considering she looked like an uninhibited, free-spirited girl. “One of those rules is to refrain from interfering with major affairs. To play no role in affecting the future of the world or the present age. And that is precisely what they seek to do. The future should always be decided by those who belong in the present. People like me, no longer fully of this world, shouldn’t get involved.”

The childish aspect to Xinglou’s countenance vanished, and her face took on an almost supernatural cast.

“I enjoy a good contest of skill, but I don’t seek conflict. I’m tired of war. If I break this prohibition, that is surely where my actions will lead. I have no desire to be a part of it.”

“But even if you don’t do anything, it will still happen! Conflict! War!”

“Indeed. The outcome is not the issue. There will always be a cause. That is something for you, those who properly live in this age, to bear.”

“I thought you said you love Asterisk? Even if it meant the whole city would be destroyed, you’d still stand by and do nothing?”

“Indeed. Yes, I like it here. But that is no reason for me to break the rules that govern my actions. I respect myself too much. I will not violate them.” Xinglou’s answer was unwavering.

“I get it. One last question, then.” Julis exhaled deeply, then looked straight into her counterpart’s eyes. “Even if it costs the lives of your students, you still won’t act?”

At that moment, the expression that rose to Xinglou’s face was, surprisingly, a smile.

It wasn’t her usual innocent look, not one of exuberance as when she was relishing a fight, but a glimmer cloaked in empty desolation—akin, in a way, to Orphelia’s soft smile.

“…What do you know? I have lost so much, said farewell to so many. The people I loved, places to return to, times of peace… They are all but fleeting moments in time. My answer remains the same.” Xinglou gazed back into Julis’s eyes, giving her a quiet nod. “I will do nothing.”

Behind her answer, Julis sensed a tremendous, absolute loneliness, and she was reminded once more that the small, childish figure before her existed beyond the usual human frame of reference. No matter how strong one was, no ordinary person would be able to withstand such desolation.

“All right. I think I get it. I haven’t come this far to rely on others anyway,” she said, turning her back on Xinglou.

It wasn’t meant as a show of courage. The only thing she wanted was to free herself from any lingering regrets that might have come from paths not taken.

As she stepped forward to leave, a voice called out behind her: “Wait, Julis.”

“What?”

As she glanced over her shoulder, Xinglou tossed her a gourd tied with red string.

“Take it—my apology for making you listen to my silly ramblings.”

“What is it?”

“A Zhuojintang, a kind of sage elixir. Just something I give my students when the mood strikes me, nothing more.”

Xinglou’s face returned to her usual faint grin.

“It’s capable of restoring depleted prana, at least to an extent. It’s only intended to offer relief, but as the Chinese name suggests, it contains both water and metal properties as per the five phases. Your fire phase is often disordered, so if used at the right time, it may help you improve the circulation of your qi, which should in turn improve your prana recovery time.”

“…I’ll take it.”

Even if it provided nothing more than peace of mind, Julis was grateful for the gesture.

“I’m looking forward to the championship match tomorrow. To a spectacle…and to your victory.”

“…”

Julis offered no response, simply raising her left hand in a gesture of farewell as she turned to leave.