Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 17 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE FINAL BATTLE II

“Lindvolus Championship Match—battle start!”

No sooner had the mechanical voice announced the beginning of the match than Julis concentrated her prana and started manipulating her mana.

“Bloom—Impatiens Balsamina!”

The second she uttered those words, petals of flame opened up above her head, morphing into a cocoon-like shape in the blink of an eye—and then bursting.

Droplets of fire fell in a torrential downpour, covering the stage.

“Riessfeld makes the first move! Flames are scattering across the battlefield like a veritable hailstorm!”

“That technique…is probably based on a balsam plant. If I’m right, she must have further developed her abilities.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“Riessfeld materializes flames in the form of flowers. In principle, her moves have always been styled after petals and the like. Well, there do seem to be a few exceptions, but even then, there’s no mistaking that her attacks all took after flowers in one way or another. But this one seems to be based on a balsam—the way the fruit pops open to disperse its seeds. So the central motif has changed from flowers to seeds. As such, we should probably expect more diversity in her techniques.”

Zaharoula, the commentator, was spot on. After emerging from her match against Xiaohui Wu, Julis could tell that her abilities had improved dramatically.

This omnidirectional burst of flaming projectiles would last for well over ten seconds.

It wasn’t as potent as Saya’s Neunfairdelph, but the range was quite wide—impossible to dodge.

Well, in theory, anyway…

After the billowing smoke cleared, there stood Orphelia, looking exactly the same as she had a moment ago.

“But would you look at that! Landlufen doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest!”

“Of course not. Orphelia Landlufen possesses immense reserves of prana, surpassing even Ayato Amagiri. To her, that would have been no more than a light rain.”

Julis was well aware of that, naturally.

There probably wasn’t anyone on the face of this earth who understood Orphelia’s power as well as Julis did. And that was precisely why she needed to use a move like this in the opening seconds of the match.

“…”

As Orphelia wordlessly raised the Gravisheath, its urm-manadite core began to emit a threatening light.

The next moment, Julis was helplessly crushed by a tremendous gravitational force.

“U-ugh…!”

Orphelia’s attack was undodgeable. Its area of effect covered almost the entire stage.

Of course. She was responding to a wide-range technique with one of equal scope.

“Here it is! A ruthless and overwhelming area attack from the Gravisheath! Will this technique, which not even Saya Sasamiya could escape, usher in an early end to today’s match?!”

Several gravitational spheres appeared around Orphelia, each aimed right for Julis.

Reduced to crawling on the ground, Julis could neither defend nor evade.

Nonetheless, she endured the pain and flashed her foe a fearless grin.

“Ah!”

Just then, a fresh flower of fire exploded beneath Orphelia’s feet.

Of course, this attack, too, was unlikely to inflict any damage on its target.

But that was fine. Because that wasn’t what Julis was aiming for.

“…?!”

Orphelia, thrown back by the force of the blast, collapsed to her knees like she’d been knocked hard to the ground.

This was exactly as Julis had intended. The Gravisheath had two weaknesses: The first was the tremendous cost of using it; the second was that its user wasn’t immune to its effects. The only thing that could resist its immense gravity was the body of the Gravisheath itself; its user remained fully vulnerable.

In other words, if Orphelia had activated the attack over the entire stage, leaving only a narrow gap around herself, then all Julis had to do was make her leave the safety of her original position.

That last explosion was meant solely to knock her into the area of effect.

As Julis had expected, not even Orphelia could resist the crushing output of her own Orga Lux. And sure enough, she swiftly neutralized it.

“Bloom—Strelitzia Petty!”

Julis had been waiting for this moment, and she hurried to activate her next ability.

Accelerating in the blink of an eye on wings of flame, she brandished a gleaming sword, charging straight for the school crest on Orphelia’s chest as her opponent struggled to recover.

…The attack, however, was repelled at the last minute.

“Whoa! That was a close call! But Landlufen has blocked Riessfeld’s attack with her bare hands!”

Orphelia rose slowly to her feet, looking completely unbothered.

Julis had gone all out with that strike just now, hoping to snatch victory in one fell swoop.

Of course, her top priority in this match was to buy time. She hadn’t forgotten that.

However, she also understood how difficult that would be when facing a foe like Orphelia. If she tried half-heartedly to lead her across the stage, she would quickly wind up cornered with no means of escape.

The only way to keep this match from ending was to go all out.

“But that attack just now required prior setup, right? When did she have time to lay the trap?”

“Probably during that initial scatter bomb. That must have been the medium. I wonder if she planted it by visualizing a seed sprouting.”

“Are you saying Riessfeld anticipated this turn of events?”

“Well, I’m not sure about that. She must have prepared for it, though, as one of several possibilities.”

At the very least, this would make it difficult for Orphelia to use the Gravisheath’s powers. The seeds from her Impatiens Balsamina technique were scattered all over the stage. If her foe tried to create another wide-ranging high-gravity zone, she would risk falling victim to the same ploy that she had a moment ago.

Orphelia wouldn’t cut corners or let her guard down no matter what kind of opponent she was facing.

Nor would she allow herself to overreach.

After all, the power of the earth was overwhelming. She would no doubt determine that she could win through other, less risky, means.

In that case, I’ll just have to overcome everything she tries…!

Renewing her resolve, Julis began to weave her prana once more.

“Bloom—Stargazer Pollen!”

With that, a giant lily of roiling flame blossomed above her head before once again bursting.

This time, however, no pellets of fire scattered over the stage—instead, a mist of fine, shining crimson particles covered the area like a haze. It wasn’t dense enough to block one’s vision. It was more like miniature stars twinkling in midair.

“…”

Orphelia’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, and she raised the sleeve of her uniform to her mouth to keep from inhaling any of the particles. They were harmless to the human body, but Julis was under no obligation to tell her opponent that.

Then, under her breath, Orphelia murmured: “Kur nu Gia.”

Plumes of miasma welled up under her feet, coming together to form a huge undead arm.

The red particles drifting through the air stuck to it, as though being sucked in.

“Oh? Those red sparkling things are sticking to Landlufen’s miasma… What’s going on here, Zaharoula…?”

“Hmm… I wonder if the motif is pollen this time around.”

Orphelia paid this no heed, swinging down at Julis with the arm made of deadly miasma that would corrode and consume anything it touched.

“Bloom—Amaryllis!”

Julis responded with a fresh technique, but the firepower of her Amaryllis wasn’t enough to counter Orphelia’s ability. Normally, the difference in power output would have pushed her back.

And yet—

A moment after the Amaryllis made contact, a huge explosion erupted. The stormlike blast was followed by a deafening roar.

The miasmic arm crumbled like a giant tree burning into cinders before her very eyes.

“Wh-what incredible firepower! H-hold on! Since when does Riessfeld have a technique like that?! Is this the move she showed off during the semifinals…?”

“…No, I don’t think so. This is probably…combustion fuel.”

Precisely.

The red particles scattered by her Amaryllis were essentially a kind of fuel, designed to react to mana converted by someone other than Julis and cling to it, then increase the power of any mana she herself released. While not quite as potent as her Queen of the Night ability, it still had the effect of magnifying her firepower several times over.

“Lily pollen is incredibly difficult to remove. I used to have such a hard time getting it off my clothes in the greenhouse. Do you remember, Orphelia?”

“…I’ve long since forgotten.”

Orphelia’s response was curt, but Julis could sense that something was amiss.

Her foe’s remarks just now had been a lie. She could see it in her eyes.

Not too long ago, Orphelia wouldn’t have denied her past—she would have simply dismissed it with an air of resignation.

And yet now she was lying.

Julis didn’t know what exactly had changed within her, but whatever it was, she felt it was a positive development.

“Whoa! Right from the get-go, we’re seeing a tremendous back-and-forth—two Stregas at the top of their game lashing out in a heated exchange! It’s no wonder they both made it to the championship match!”

“I have to admit, I underestimated Riessfeld. Orphelia may be off the charts in terms of her abilities, but Riessfeld, as a Strega, is certainly on par with the likes of Sylvia Lyyneheym, at least. And her moves have a natural advantage against Orphelia Landlufen.”

“An advantage, you say?”

“There are basically two ways to deal with poisons, especially chemical weapons… The first is by neutralizing them; the second is through combustion—in other words, burning them up. Riessfeld’s ability to manipulate fire gives her an inherent advantage over Orphelia’s miasma. There have been other flame-users who faced Orphelia in the past, but their overall lack of strength and fighting ability rendered that advantage meaningless. Riessfeld, however, has managed to close the gap, thanks to a combination of keen tactics and expert abilities… She might even…”

As she spoke, Zaharoula almost sounded excited.

While she was grateful to receive such high praise, Julis couldn’t afford to get complacent.

Her tactics, no matter how diligently prepared, could quickly be rendered meaningless, depending on the flow of the match. And while it was fair to say that her own abilities had a natural advantage over Orphelia’s, they still required a lot of steps and time to pull off. One attack from her opponent would require two or three of her own to counter, making it difficult for her to keep up.

As she had known from the beginning, if she focused on evasion and defense, she would inevitably be crushed. If she didn’t press the attack when necessary, even if it was risky—if she didn’t force Orphelia to defend herself, then this would turn into a very one-sided match. She couldn’t afford to make even a single mistake.

It’s like walking a tightrope…!

But Julis wouldn’t be defeated so easily.

If push came to shove, she still had her trump card—her Queen of the Night ability.

While she wouldn’t be able to use it until the very last minute because of its time limit, it had already helped her beat Ayato and brought her toe to toe with Xinglou Fan. It would also, she hoped, be effective against Orphelia. For a brief twelve seconds, that is.

Ayato asked me to buy more time, but he didn’t say exactly how much. Probably not even he knows how long they need. They probably thought giving me a fixed limit would only cause me more stress…

In other words, she would just have to delay for as long as possible.

Festa matches tended to vary in duration—sometimes they were decided in an instant, and on other occasions, they dragged on and on. Group fights during the Gryps were usually the most time-consuming, but curiously, one-on-one bouts during the Lindvolus tended to last longer than the Phoenix’s tag-team matches. Perhaps that was because teams in the Phoenix became unbalanced as soon as a member dropped out from either side, all but deciding the outcome. Lindvolus matches, on the other hand, when the competitors were evenly matched, lacked an easy deciding factor. When both fighters were skilled at evasion and defense, matches could go on for longer than an hour.

Of course, it would be unrealistic to expect to hold out for that long out against the likes of Orphelia.

Even just half an hour would be extremely difficult, but there was no point to this unless Julis set herself a high bar.

All right, then, thirty minutes. Let’s see if I can hold out that long…!

“Bloom—Nerium Oleander, Multiflos!”

Julis summoned five double-flowered buds all at once, encircling her foe. She made no move to attack, however.

“…”

Orphelia, likewise, glanced around, but made no sudden moves.

“How unusual! Landlufen is taking in the situation!”

As to be expected.

“Yes. Even Erenshkigal, the Witch of Solitary Venom, must be wary of poisons not of her own making.”

“Ah, so this is the same poisonous flower technique Riessfeld used to drive Xiaohui Wu into a corner!”

It would be difficult to break through Orphelia’s defenses using firepower alone. A half-baked technique wouldn’t even pose a threat to her.

But if there were accompanying side effects, that might alter the equation.

This technique used a flaming flower modeled on the poisonous oleander, and would scatter its toxic fires throughout the surrounding area when it exploded.

Orphelia might have resistance to her own toxins—the ones that she could freely manipulate—but Julis’s remained unknown to her. She would have to approach them with caution.

“Poisons don’t belong exclusively to you, Orphelia,” Julis called out.

“No. I never said they were…though it is a little odious to have one used against me,” Orphelia muttered, summoning up five gravitational spheres roughly the same size as Julis’s oleander flowers in an effort to brush them aside.

“I thought you’d do that!”

Julis snapped her fingers and all five of the oleander flowers detonated. If she let those gravitational spheres touch them, Julis’s flowers would only be swallowed up whole.

Poisonous sparks of flame fell like snowflakes all around Orphelia.

How’s that? There’s no way you can dodge this…!

The poison would be less effective now that it was dispersed, but if it could whittle away at Orphelia’s strength, even if only a little, that would still be a win.

Unfazed, Orphelia merely glanced up slightly and murmured, “Kur nu Anzu.”

The miasma swirled rapidly around her, forming a gust of wind that easily blew away the surrounding sparks.

“Tch! So it won’t be that easy…!”

Despite her disappointment, Julis concentrated her prana to prepare for her next move.

All of a sudden, Orphelia’s gaze pierced clean through her.

“…I see. It’s a clever little trick, but that, too, is a form of power. Your destiny seems to be gaining strength.”

“Like I said earlier: This isn’t destiny. It’s ability,” Julis said, correcting her.

“And didn’t I tell you? To me, they’re the same. Let me test your ability one last time.”

A chill ran down Julis’s spine.

The urm-manadite core of the Gravisheath in Orphelia’s hands let out an ominous purple glow, just as an anguished gasp tore through the air.

It was the same move Orphelia had used back in the fifth round.

“Geshti Nanna.”

“Saya! Are you okay?! Saya?!”

Ayato’s voice echoed from beyond the fog clouding her consciousness.

Saya shook her head slightly, waking up to find herself in a space narrower than she had expected, filled with what looked like old benches. Rising to her feet, she realized that she was looking down on the Eclipse stage. Ayato was staring up at her with a worried look.

She appeared to be in the spectators’ area above the stage. When the Helnekraum had exploded, the force of the blast must have thrown her up here.

“I—I’m okay… No probs.”

She gave Ayato a thumbs-up, though she still felt a bit wobbly.

That being said, it was frankly a miracle how little damage she had sustained. If she had taken a direct hit from the Raksha-Nada, she could have easily been completely dismembered.

Seeing the broken pieces of the Helnekraum scattered beside her, Saya gritted her teeth. She had only survived relatively unscathed because her weapon had taken the brunt of that last attack for her.

“Tch! Ayato! Watch out!”

At that moment, a second barrage of Raksha-Nada shards lashed out at Ayato like a passing meteor shower.

Ayato quickly leaped back to dodge the strike, but the fragments chasing after Saya joined the others to create an impressive mass, pursuing him as he fled. He managed to avoid them by darting across the stage, but if he had slipped up even for a second, it would have been the end of him.

Saya wanted to help in some way, but she had almost exhausted her supply of armaments. With only a handgun or two left, it would be reckless to go after Madiath Mesa directly. She gritted her teeth in frustration—she simply wasn’t on his level. If she had been fully armed, she might have stood a chance. But as she was now, rushing in carelessly would only serve to hamstring Ayato.

So what could she do? She glanced around and spotted something in the aisle between the audience seats.

“No way…?!”

She rushed over to make sure, but there could be no mistaking it.

This was—

“Ayato! A bomb! There’s a military-use manadite composite explosive here!”

“What?!” Ayato cried out in astonishment.

Just then Madiath, who had been leisurely directing the shards of the Raksha-Nada from afar, turned his gaze on Saya.

“Oh, did you notice? Perhaps I should have camouflaged them a little better.”

Indeed, the device was installed haphazardly, with most of the mechanism out in the open.

A quick look across the audience seating revealed six identical devices placed at intervals around the stage.

They were roughly half Saya’s height in size. Even one would have been immensely powerful, but six in combination? If they all went off at once, they would have enormous destructive power.

“What are you playing at, Madiath Mesa?!” Ayato demanded while dodging the fragments of the Raksha-Nada.

Something about his movements seemed confident—casual, even—like he was beginning to see through his opponent’s attacks. The more fragments Madiath Mesa divided the Raksha-Nada into, the more difficult they would be to control, and the less precise his attacks would become. That said, Saya would never have been able to see through an opponent of his level in such a short span of time. Ayato’s talents really were amazing.

“Hmm… Well, I don’t suppose there’s any way you could have known. This venue serves a hidden purpose.”

Madiath must have sensed that his attacks were losing potency, and he recalled the fragments of his weapon, letting them recombine into a sword blade.

“A hidden purpose…?”

“As you know, the city of Asterisk is often called a miniature garden, designed to contain Genestella. And when you’re containing something, it’s prudent to have a way to dispose of it, should the time come. That goes without saying, don’t you think?”

Dispose of…?

That turn of phrase sent a shiver down Saya’s spine.

“Why are you so surprised? As you can see from its construction, the stage for the Eclipse has been part of the city’s design since its very inception. You couldn’t possibly add a space like this once everything was finished. Even during large-scale renovations, it was left completely untouched. Do you think it was intended from the outset to be an arena for illegal matches? Of course not! The Eclipse is nothing more than a sideshow, a distraction from the structure’s original purpose… No, this is a safety device, in case of emergency… A switch.” Madiath paused there for a moment. Then he continued, his tone relaxed. “The foundations of this floating city are remarkably robust. Hardly anything can shake it. But it was designed with a certain inherent weakness from the very beginning. Yes, if this area were to be destroyed and flood with water…well, the base structure supporting Asterisk would collapse. In other words, the entire city would sink to the bottom of the lake.”

“No…!”

Saya found it hard to believe, but if true—if Asterisk itself were destroyed, they would be doomed even if they succeeded in stopping Orphelia.

She couldn’t even imagine how many lives would be lost.

“But of course, that’s no easy feat. The walls here are multilayered, the sturdiest in the whole city. You’d need to focus on certain points and destroy them simultaneously. Without such safeguards, you would hardly want to hold an event as dangerous as the Eclipse down here, would you?”

Madiath’s voice was laced with scorn—but Saya couldn’t begin to guess who it was directed at.

“Why do such a thing…?! If Erenshkigal carries out your plan and slaughters everyone, there shouldn’t be any need to destroy the city itself!”

“Even if Miss Orphelia should succeed in her task, it would all come to naught if the integrated enterprise foundations’ investigations uncovered the truth, no? There are those with delving abilities capable of seeing into the past. This is me destroying the evidence, just in case.”

Just in case.

He would go to such extremes simply because of a possibility?

Once again, the madness of the Golden Bough Alliance, the degree to which they were all out of touch with the world, was brought home to her.

“Saya, can you disarm them?” Ayato called out.

“Huh…?”

She was taken aback by the abrupt question, but she quickly pulled herself together and started examining the bomb. Compound explosives incorporating manadite were much more powerful than conventional ones, but like Luxes, they required a control device to function. Perhaps she would be able to stop it by overwriting its programming.

“I don’t know…but I’ll try!”

Saya pulled out her mobile device and connected it to the control unit, then she began to analyze it.

“Hey, hey. Do you think I’m just going to sit here and watch?” Madiath said, readying the Raksha-Nada once more—but not before Ayato lashed out from above.

“Ngh…!”

Ayato’s attack was much sharper than before, forcing Madiath to fall back a step.

Following through, Ayato attacked again, unleashing an upward diagonal swing, his blade gleaming in the air.

“Oh…!” Madiath exclaimed. “You’ve adapted to my moves, I see… Well, this is our third time crossing swords. I’d be disappointed if you couldn’t pull off that much!”

After falling back, he placed a hand on his shoulder and glanced around.

“Very well. I can’t risk you getting the better of me while I’m distracted. I’ll deal with Miss Sasamiya after I kill you.”

At that moment, an incredible bloodlust seemed to emanate from Madiath’s body.

Even from a distance, Saya felt as though her internal organs were being crushed into a pulp. The temperature seemed to drop below freezing, and the air around them weighed heavy as if it had turned to lead. Before she knew it, her hands were trembling.

Is this the real Madiath Mesa…?!

Just how much pressure did Ayato feel facing this murderous aura head on?

But with a slight shake of her head, Saya turned her focus back to the task in front of her.

She had work to do.

This must be the reason she was here.

In that case, she would just have to do a perfect job.

She activated the encryption-cracking tool that Eishirou had provided her with—incidentally, the same one he had used while searching for Flora in the Rotlicht—and started rewriting the control device’s programming.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Hidden Technique—Hornet Fang!”

Ayato twisted around, throwing his blade with one hand. It was a strike of unparalleled precision, aimed not at his opponent but at the activation handle of the Raksha-Nada—yet Madiath deflected it with ease.

“Tch…!”

But Ayato didn’t stop there. Leaning into his momentum, he switched his blade to his left hand and, holding it in an underhand grip, he spun around once more, cleaving to the side with all his strength.

This was the Amagiri Shinmei Style, Intermediate Technique—Ten Thistles.

Madiath raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but still managed to dodge the attack with a simple turn of his head. The tip of the Ser Veresta passed right in front of him, but he hardly seemed to move at all. He had seen straight through Ayato’s move.

And then, despite his unstable position, he lashed out with the Raksha-Nada.

“Hngh!”

Ayato concentrated his strength into his right leg, desperately tilting his body to evade as the huge sword tore through his uniform.

At first glance, Madiath appeared to be swinging his weapon with an unsteady arm, almost as at the mercy of his own blade—but he quickly shifted trajectory, twisting around and unleashing an upward diagonal strike.

Ayato countered, deflecting his foe’s weapon and instantly following it with a downward slash of his own.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Middle Technique—Carved-Out Shell!”

“Whoa…!”

Madiath turned to avoid the blow, launching a kick into Ayato’s abdomen with his left leg.

“Ngh…!”

Though only a kick, it carried extraordinary force.

Unable to brace himself, Ayato was blown back, slamming into a huge, half-collapsed pillar.

“Gah!”

The air was forced out of his lungs, and his vision darkened briefly.

The next moment, shards from the Raksha-Nada tore his way, completely decimating the collapsed pillar. Ayato rolled desperately to safety.

“Haaah… Haaah… Haaah…!”

Catching his breath, he rose back to his feet and readied the Ser Veresta

“Ha-ha-ha!” Madiath laughed. “You’re much like your sister, I see. The Amagiri Shinmei style, was it? What a joke.”

“What…?!” Ayato growled, letting his anger show.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Madiath said with a feigned shrug of his shoulders. “I acknowledge your strength, Haruka’s, too. And I’m not just making fun of your school of fighting. No, it’s swordsmanship itself that I consider a joke. That goes for the Amagiri Shinmei style, the Toudou style, and even just bringing techniques and sword forms into a fight. What foolishness to think you can reduce a duel to fixed movement patterns.”

He paused there and sighed.

“Contests are about defeating and slaughtering your opponent. That’s all. If they give you an opening, you take it—if they don’t, you manipulate them until they do. It’s simple, really. And free. As far as I’m concerned, your techniques only serve to restrict the range of your actions.”

These were reckless, unreserved comments—but Madiath had the skill and power to back them up.

His attacks weren’t bound by patterns—his formless, serene movements were impossible to predict, and they never dropped a beat. Those two qualities were the essence of martial arts, and he had mastered them.

According to Claudia’s data, Madiath got his start at an illegal entertainment tournament called the Vigridhr, or Infinity Arena. For a full eight years, he had fought there. Surviving hundreds and thousands of life-or-death contests must have honed his innate talent into this abstract, unpredictable style.

In terms of swordsmanship, Kirin was the very top—but when it came to fundamental fighting skill, Madiath surpassed everyone else whom Ayato had ever met.

“Theory is, of course, important. It’s right to want to understand the basics. But I fail to see the point of tying it into forms. It’s like you’re playing a game. Though I suppose that is an appropriate analogy for this ugly spectacle of a city…”

With that, Madiath surged forward, suddenly closing the gap between them.

Despite the heightened state of awareness afforded by his shiki ability, Ayato still found his foe’s unique, unpredictable gait impossible to read.

Just before his opponent’s red blade could decapitate him, Ayato parried it with the Ser Veresta.

But Mathias’s heavy, powerful strike pushed him down, weapon and all.

“Gah…!”

“That’s why I like the Amagiri Shinmei style’s ultimate techniques. They’re not based on forms—you fight based on core principles alone, no?” Madiath grinned as their blades continued to push against each other.

Ayato waited for the right timing and disentangled the two weapons, but Madiath held his stance as he swung the Raksha-Nada yet again.

After another few exchanges, they each fell back, Madiath arrogantly holding out his hand as if to say, Come at me.

He wants me to use my ultimate techniques…? Fine!

Ayato would accept the invitation.

Ayato could respond to his foe’s movements, but Madiath still had an overwhelming advantage. He was superior in practically every metric, so that was only natural. Ayato couldn’t afford to hold back his trump card, his ultimate techniques.

His only concern was that two of his ultimate techniques had already been exposed during the Lindvolus. Of course, these were the final secret teachings of the Amagiri Shinmei style and weren’t easily countered even after seeing them once or twice. Rodolfo Zoppo might have succeeded in blocking his Tsugomori move, but it would be more accurate to say that the Ser Veresta had been parried rather than the technique itself. Besides, it should have been impossible for anyone else to replicate what he had done.

But Ayato’s current opponent was Madiath Mesa. And since he’d practically asked Ayato to use his ultimate techniques, he must have some strategy in mind.

Still, I don’t have time to hesitate…!

He had to settle this before Julis’s match against Orphelia was over.

Ayato closed his eyes, deepening his shiki state to further enhance his perception.

He wouldn’t be able to maintain this for long, but if he was attacked now, he should at least be able to respond appropriately.

He built himself a world of silence, bringing every motion into sharp relief.

And in the midst of it, he began to sense the origin of Madiath’s movement.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Ultimate Technique I—Tsugomori.”

Ayato swayed—and countered Madiath’s strike quietly and smoothly, like flowing water.

Or at least he should have.

“What…?!”

But his blow was repelled by a patch of empty air, altering its trajectory.

While Ayato watched in wide-eyed shock, Madiath brought the Raksha-Nada down with a flash of light, piercing through the right side of his body.

“Ngh…!”

Rather than pain, burning heat passed through him—the feeling of raw, warm blood pouring out.

He managed to take a step back in retreat, but dropped helplessly to one knee. Thanks to his quick reflexes, the wound wasn’t fatal, but it was still quite deep.

But more importantly—

“Just now…!”

It wasn’t empty air that had deflected his blade.

Looking closely, he could see fragments of the Raksha-Nada hovering brightly around Madiath. The moment Ayato launched his attack, he had sensed his opponent bringing them together.

In other words—

“Oh? You’re quick on the uptake. As to be expected,” Madiath said with a stroke of his chin. His tone wasn’t sarcastic—it held honest admiration.

“…You used an automatic defense?”

“Precisely. I’m surrounded by floating pieces of the Raksha-Nada. They react to my thoughts and gather together instantly to form a defensive blade.”

Ayato’s shiki technique gave him perfect sensory perception, but ultimately, it indicated only the result of his target’s movements. It couldn’t sense the outcome of thoughts, nor could it prepare him to respond to a blade that formed instantly in midair.

“The Raksha-Nada is mostly known for its ferocity in combat, but when wielded by the right user, it becomes an incredible tool. It can be used for defense, as you just saw, and is capable of a whole plethora of offensive variations. Like this…”

As Madiath swung the Raksha-Nada, the huge blade broke into smaller and smaller pieces, surrounding Ayato in a multilayered dome. It had to be made of more than a hundred fragments.

“…!”

Its deployment was orderly and swift—Ayato couldn’t possibly have evaded it. Even if he had been able to read Madiath’s next moves, he wouldn’t have had much chance of defending himself. If he’d retreated to keep himself from being encircled, the shards would simply have pursued him across the battlefield before finding another way to surround him.

“As you know, the smaller the fragments are, the more difficult they are to control. You need to group them together into masses of a certain size when attacking. If you make them a little bigger still, you can send them in multiple directions, though that restricts more intricate movement.”

Madiath’s words sent a cold sweat down Ayato’s spine.

It wasn’t unusual to find oneself in a siege-like situation.

Many skilled Dantes or Stregas would no doubt be able to carry out similar attacks with their abilities.

But coming from an Orga Lux, the danger was on a whole other level.

When it came to regular attacks, Ayato’s abundant prana could limit the damage to some extent. But that wasn’t the case for Orga Luxes. All the more so if slashing or thrusting attacks were involved.

“So how will you get out of this?”

The next moment, the shards surrounding Ayato lashed out all at once.

The attack came at high-speed and from all directions—even from above—without leaving the slightest opening. What’s more, each strike possessed the full destructive power of an Orga Lux.

Ayato hurried to adjust the range and intensity of his shiki ability, focusing his awareness.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Ultimate Technique II—Wazaogi.”

He swung the Ser Veresta in all directions, repelling the clumped shards of the Raksha-Nada.

Of course, no matter how fast he moved, there was no way that he could keep up with this simultaneous attack from all directions.

And yet—

“Wow…!” Madiath exclaimed—even louder than before. “Wonderful! Each shard you deflect blocks another, which in turn blocks yet another…! A superhuman feat!”

This level of half-reflexive defense was possible only when his shiki state was pushed to its absolute limits while employing his Wazaogi technique.

Nonetheless, it was impossible for him to deflect all the projectiles.

He kept standing after the red storm blew through, but his body was covered with countless lacerations and puncture wounds.

He had managed, albeit only barely, to protect his vitals during the onslaught, but he was bleeding from almost every other part of his body.

“Gah…!”

“I see, I see. A great display indeed. I salute you,” Madiath said with a grin as he raised the Raksha-Nada into the air.

Then, just like before, Ayato was again surrounded by fragments of the blade from all sides.

“Though imperfect, my last attack was effective enough. So there’s no need for me to bother trying anything new, is there? Let’s just keep doing the same thing over and over until we’re finished. Good idea, right?” Madiath laughed as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Now then—how many more can you endure?”