Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 17 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

THE FINAL BATTLE III

“Geshti Nanna.”

As Orphelia murmured those words, huge treelike plumes of miasma burst out all over the stage.

“Whoa! This is how Landlufen defeated Hilda Jane Rowlands in the fifth round…!”

“This is a formidable move, all right, combining the Gravisheath’s powers with Orphelia’s own abilities…!”

With that thought, Julis fled into the air using her Strelitzia wings—but of course, this onslaught wasn’t so easily dodged. The huge, treelike masses continued to stretch their branches upward and diagonally, binding her in an ever-shrinking cage.

“It’s like a primordial jungle has just engulfed the stage! Every one of those mammoth trees has to be over twenty meters high! And they just keep coming, one after the other!”

Even Hilda, the great Magnum Opus, who should have been Orphelia’s equal, had been unable to withstand this. Julis, however, had witnessed it before, and she had prepared a countermeasure.

“Bloom!”

As Julis’s order boomed over the stage, the ground began to explode, one area after the next—the seeds of the Impatiens Balsamina technique that she had deployed earlier.

Of course, a few explosions wouldn’t be enough to dispel this miasma—but with the Stargazer Pollen acting as combustion fuel, their power was greatly enhanced.

She wasn’t aiming to wholly incinerate the trees. They were growing out of the ground, so if she could just burn their roots…

“All right…!”

Several of the huge trees closing in on her broke off at the base, collapsing into a heap.

But not all of them fell. Though Julis had boosted her attacks with the help of the pollen, Orphelia’s power output was on another dimension. The trees that had managed to withstand the explosions at their base continued to aim for her, hoping to knock her around like billiard cues hitting a ball.

“Ngh…!”

Far more had survived her counterattack than she had anticipated.

With a flap of her flaming wings, she flew around the stage in an attempt to avoid the strikes, but they grazed by her countless times, dangerously close. Having to continuously dodge these attacks—any one of which would mean immediate defeat if it connected—was a test of endurance both physically and mentally.

That she was able to dodge them at all was half thanks to the success of her preparation and countermeasures. The other half was pure luck—as several of the giant trees collapsed, they pushed others out of the way, momentarily keeping them at a safe distance.

“Phew… Phew…!”

Even so, she only barely made it through.

When the chaos finally stopped, the huge trees filling the stage slowly disintegrated into gaseous miasma.

“Bloom—Rafflesia!”

Julis thrust her Rect Lux into the ground from midair, immediately activating a preprepared move, which incinerated the surrounding miasma and gave her space to land.

“Sh-she pulled through! Riessfeld just managed to survive Landlufen’s incredible assault!”

“Only narrowly, mind you. I doubt she’ll be able to withstand it a second time.”

It might not be impossible, but Zaharoula was probably right that Julis would have a hard time if Orphelia tried the same move again. And knowing Orphelia, she might very well do just that.

Julis activated her Stargazer Pollen ability a second time, littering the battlefield with a fresh coating of the combustion fuel.

Whatever happened, she had to be ready.

“…”

But contrary to her expectations, Orphelia merely stared back at her.

“Ahhh…,” she said at last with a soft sigh. “Yes. Yes, I see. Very well, I acknowledge it.”

“Huh? You’re acknowledging my ability?”

“Yes.”

It was a simple, lighthearted remark. But Julis was considerably taken aback by the praise.

“…That’s an honor.”

“So from here on, I’ll go all out.”

“…!”

Julis’s eyes went wide.

“Oh…? I’m surprised you’d make light of your opponent like that. You’re saying you’ve been slacking off all this time?”

That was impossible.

No matter who she fought, Orphelia wasn’t the type to let her guard down. No, she would seek to utterly destroy them from the very outset.

“No. I would never cut corners. It’s just…I wasn’t able to give it my true all before, even if I’d wanted to.”

With those words, Orphelia gripped the Gravisheath tightly in her right hand and stroked its urm-manadite core. Her movements were quiet and gentle, and at first glance, they might have seemed affectionate. But they weren’t. There was nothing but grief and resignation in her demeanor. Perhaps the Gravisheath itself understood that, as looking closely, Julis could see it trembling ever so slightly.

And then—

“Gyaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!”

All of a sudden, a pained scream echoed across the stage.

An enormous quantity of miasma was flowing straight from Orphelia’s hand directly into the Gravisheath’s core—an infusion so potent, it would probably have killed a person in a split second.

The urm-manadite flickered with frenzied purple light, illuminating the stage. Its death scream dragged on, slowly weakening as the light of its core dimmed…until finally it was extinguished, and the Gravisheath ceased to function.

The next moment, Orphelia casually tossed the Orga Lux away, sending it rolling across the stage with a dry, metallic sound.

“Huh…? Eh? Whaaaaat?! Wh-what’s going on here? Landlufen just destroyed her own Gravisheath, and with her bare hands…?!”

“…What’s the meaning of this, Orphelia?” Julis asked, glaring at her opponent.

“You already know, don’t you?” she replied, staring back. “My miasma is so strong that it eats away at my own body. That’s why Dirk Eberwein has been controlling it with medication, to suppress its effects as much as possible.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

“But it will take my full power to fully implement the plan. It might be possible for me to carry it out under the medication’s influence, but it would be difficult to spread my miasma to every corner of Asterisk. A good number of people would no doubt survive. Which is why I stopped taking the drugs a good while back.” Orphelia spoke nonchalantly, as though none of this concerned her. “But if I self-destruct before the plan is carried out, it will all have been for nothing. So…”

“…!”

Having heard this much, Julis finally understood.

“I see… So the Gravisheath was basically functioning like a limiter on your abilities.”

One might wonder why Orphelia, who already possessed such overwhelming power, had gone to the trouble of acquiring a new one in the form of the Gravisheath—but that would be to misunderstand her situation. The Orga Lux’s functions as a weapon were merely a bonus. From the very beginning, she had needed it to weaken and regulate her powers by absorbing her toxic blood.

“…”

Orphelia nodded. “Hilda Jane Rowlands said that, for me, the Gravisheath was the worst possible partner… But the truth is the opposite. For regulating my powers and inhibiting my full strength, there was nothing better.”

As she spoke, an enormous quantity of prana seeped from Orphelia’s body, transforming the mana around her into toxic miasma.

“Wh-what…?!”

In Julis’s head, alarm bells were already ringing at maximum volume.

Driven by instinct, she leaped backward to a safe distance.

“Huh…? Wh-what’s going on…? Orphelia Landlufen’s powers are increasing at an accelerated rate… No… No one could possibly handle all that…”

Zaharoula’s voice betrayed her confusion.

And then—

“Eh?! U-um, h-hold on…! Right! Um, sorry for interrupting, but we’ve got breaking news! Large-scale terrorist attacks seem to be taking place all across Asterisk! The Rikka Administrative Authority and Stjarnagarm have issued a mandatory evacuation order! All residents and visitors are to seek safety indoors!”

“Terrorist attacks…?!”

When she heard this shocking announcement, Julis glanced around.

After a short pause, a wave of anxiety and confusion spread through the crowd as the audience forgot its excitement.

Air-windows began to snap open throughout the audience seating, lighting up one after the other as though in a chain reaction. Everyone must be trying to get a handle on the devastation outside.

There was no way to know the extent of the damage, but a mandatory evacuation order was the highest level of alert that the Rikka Administrative Authority and Stjarnagarm were capable of issuing. Things must have been in an awful state.

“U-um! For now, it’s safest for everyone here to stay inside the building. All visitors to the Sirius Dome, please remain calm and—”

Uh-oh.

This was going to cause a panic.

It was one thing to tell the audience that they were safest staying put, but with this many people in one place, there would always be some narrow-minded individuals who would refuse to trust that advice. Once they began to sow confusion, the chaos would quickly multiply and spread.

And if a large-scale panic were to break out here, with more than a hundred thousand people crammed into the venue…

“Kur nu Gia.”

But at that moment, the stadium fell silent.

Miasmic arms that Orphelia had woven together towered over the audience, more ominous and incomparably larger than anything she had unleashed up until now. The audience gaped at this spectacle—this overwhelming mass of power.

This heinous, violent force captured their attention and took hold of their hearts.

And this wasn’t just a pair of arms.

The number increased every few seconds. There were already five—no, six of them…

“Ha… Ha-ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Wow! Wow! Awesome! Orphelia Landlufen! Erenshkigal! No way! No way!”

Amid the confusion, Zaharoula’s joy-filled laugh resonated throughout the stadium.

“Z-Zaharoula…?”

“Mico Yanase. Did the bulletin just now say anything about the championship match?”

“Huh? Er, no, not really…”

“That means the match will keep going, right? In that case, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know anything about these terrorist attacks, and I don’t care. I don’t want to miss a single second of what’s playing out down there!”

Mico was at a loss for words.

“You all out in the audience! Those of you who want to flee, do as you please. But ask yourselves—what are you doing here? You came to see the greatest tournament in the history of the Lindvolus—no, of the entire Festa. Right? Then you’d better sit back and keep your eyes peeled. Even if you wait out the rest of your boring lives, you’ll never have another chance to witness this miracle. I’m not going anywhere! Come rain or shine—even if the entire Sirius Dome is laid to waste—I’m staying right here!”

Zaharoula’s remarks were categorically insane.

But the passion in her voice was unmistakably real.

That passion soon rippled through the audience, painting over their anxiety and confusion and driving them into a whirlwind more frenzied and enthusiastic than ever before.

Hushed murmurs soon gave way to the scattered cheers—and from there, into louder cries and shouts. Soon screams and roars engulfed the Sirius Dome.

“Are you kidding me? The audience is just as crazy as she is…”

Julis smiled wryly. What else could she do?

“…Go.”

Orphelia, unperturbed by the crowd’s enthusiasm, gently raised her right arm.

That arm—covered in miasma and more terrifying than a demon risen from hell—swung down at Julis.

“Burst into bloom—Antirrhinum Majus!”

Julis released a flaming flower dragon, then boosted its strength with her remote Rect Lux.

After adding some pollen fuel to the mix, its power ought to have been close to ten times that of the regular version.

And yet the blow succeeded only in holding back one of the miasmic arms, while a second and third rushed in to crush her.

“What?!”

They were also considerably faster than before.

Th-this… I can’t…! I have to fall back!

Carried by the wings of her Strelitzia Petty, Julis glided across the stage—but even with her increased acceleration ability, the miasmic arms quickly caught up to her. She tried to escape by suddenly accelerating and decelerating and making sharp turns, but she managed only to buy herself a short reprieve.

In no time at all, she had reached the edge of the stage and was left with nowhere else to run.

Then, without the faintest hesitation, the miasmic arms hit her like a tidal wave.

“Wh-whoa! Riessfeld has been hit! Is it over?!”

“…No, not yet!”

Zaharoula wasn’t even trying to hide her excitement.

…It looked like Julis had no other choice.

Giving in, she squeezed her eyes shut.

This was her only option. She had hoped to hold out another five minutes…but at this rate, that was out of the question. She’d only die in vain, and there was no point in that.

And so with a mental apology, she resolved to fight only for herself from here on out.

“Bloom—Queen of the Night.”

As Julis opened her eyes, a series of huge six-petaled flowers erupted around her, their explosive flames pushing the miasmic arms back and burning them to cinders.

Her rose-colored hair paled in the light, her body itself blazing with roiling flames.

“Th-there it is! The move that overwhelmed Ayato Amagiri!”

The audience broke out into rapturous cheers.

…They really were stupid, the whole lot of them.

Large-scale terrorist attacks were taking place outside, their own lives were being threatened, and yet all they wanted to do was watch a couple of students fight? They were a vile, despicable, wretched bunch.

But even as she cursed them in the depths of her heart, a small smile spread across Julis’s face.

That’s right. Burn this sight into your eyes.

This battle is between Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld and Orphelia Landlufen.

This will be our final contest.

“He’s gone, Leo!”

“Leave it to me!”

Kevin Holst—the Black Shield, Gareth—knocked an autonomous puppet down with a hard shield bash, while Lionel Karsch—the Royal Spear, Rhongomiant—cut it in two.

The pair might have retired from professional competition, but their brilliant teamwork remained undiminished.

“Good job, you two,” Ernest Fairclough said, casting a sideways glance at his former teammates as he himself laid low another two puppets.

They were in a corner of the commercial area, in a square in front of a large shopping facility equipped with an oversized air-window display.

Until just a few minutes ago, a great crowd had been gathered here to watch the championship match live, but they had all been evacuated into the facility. The only figures left were the three former members of the Life Rhodes who happened to be in the area, and the countless autonomous puppets that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere.

“Well, I know it’s a little late for this…,” Kevin grumbled while attacking a puppet with his massive shield, “but wouldn’t it have been better not to get involved?”

“Are you saying we should just stand by and do nothing? There’s a whole lot of people in there!” Lionel scolded him.

“But these things don’t attack until you get in their way… And there’s no end to them!”

As Kevin had just pointed out, the puppets weren’t actively attacking bystanders. Or rather, that didn’t seem to be their priority. Of course, once Ernest and the others tried to stop them from entering the facility en masse, they had launched a full-scale assault.

Judging from the mandatory evacuation order that had just been issued, it was probably safe to assume that similar attacks were taking place throughout Asterisk.

In that case, the goal of these puppets probably isn’t to kill or injure people, but to sabotage the city—specifically the transportation infrastructure, if the smoke rising from the port block is any indication.

The roof of this large commercial complex served double duty as a landing site for airships. If that was the puppets’ target, they could arguably leave them alone.

That said, a great many people from the local area were now inside, so letting the machines in would undoubtedly place them in great danger.

“I know what you’re saying, Kevin, but we should stand our ground. As knights of Gallardworth!”

Ernest changed the direction of his thrust, skewering an oncoming puppet through the head.

“Then again, I’m afraid we can only do so much!”

Lionel’s mighty spear tore through a group of several puppets all at once, but it was unable to break past their defensive barriers to completely destroy them.

These puppets were by no means weak. In make and appearance, they were very similar to Allekant’s autonomous puppet Ardy, which had gone on a rampage during the Phoenix. While not as strong as that unit, anyone other than a Page One from one of the six schools—or at least, anyone not on one of the Named Cults—would no doubt have a hard time facing them down.

Of course, this wasn’t the only entrance into the shopping facility. Considering the number of puppets, even if they went all out here, it wouldn’t hold them back for long.

Some support from Stjarnagarm would have been nice, but the city guard was likely short on manpower given the extent of the turmoil.

Now then, what to do…? I could contact Elliot and get him to send support, but they have their own problems to deal with, and I doubt they’d make it in time…

Just then—

“Pah!”

A deafening voice burst through the air, and the puppets in front of Ernest were shattered into countless pieces.

“YO, ERNEST. IT’S BEEN A WHILE, HUH?”

Standing before him was a woman dressed in the uniform of Jie Long, her face covered with a wolf mask.

“Well, well, well, Seiten Taisei. How long has it been since I last heard that voice?”

“HEE-HEE. WELL, XINGLOU GAVE ME THE ALL-CLEAR TO HEAD OUT,” the woman said, removing her wolf mask to reveal countless scars crisscrossing her face.

Alema Seiyang—the former number one at Jie Long before handing that title over to Xinglou Fan, and a current member of the school’s intelligence organization, Gaishi.

Alema raised a hand into the air, and a dozen other individuals each wearing similar wolf masks appeared around her, falling down on one knee.

“PROTECT THE ENTRANCES AND EXITS IN TEAMS OF THREE. SOME PUPPETS MIGHT TRY TO BREAK THROUGH THE WALLS OR WINDOWS, SO DON’T FORGET TO KEEP THEM OCCUPIED.”

At Alema’s orders, the masked operatives disappeared just as quickly as they had arrived. They were fast, but they were clearly using covert concealment techniques—which meant that they, too, had to be agents of the intelligence organization.

“I never thought Gaishi would come to our rescue,” Lionel murmured with a conflicted look.

It was common knowledge among those who had been part of the student council that Gaishi was the most belligerent and rabid among the six academies’ intelligence agencies. This was almost certainly because it was under the direct control of Jie Long’s student council president, whereas the majority of the other agencies were heavily influenced by their school’s integrated enterprise foundation.

“So is Her Highness doing us a favor?”

“NO. LI’L XINGLOU JUST SAID WE COULD DO AS WE PLEASE. WE’RE ACTING ON OUR OWN AUTHORITY,” Alema said with a grin. “WE’VE GOT TO PUNISH THESE IDIOTS, THINKING THEY CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL THEY WANT IN OUR BACKYARD. WE JUST BUMPED INTO YOU GUYS BY CHANCE. BUT HEY, IF YOU DON’T WANT OUR HELP, WE’LL GO ELSEWHERE.”

“No. Thank you.” Ernest bowed his head.

It was precisely because Alema and her colleagues belonged to Gaishi that they were so light on their feet. The other academies would have prioritized protecting their own students and evaluating the situation before taking action.

“HAH! IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I LAST WENT ALL OUT! TIME TO HAVE A LITTLE FUN!” Alema burst into a maniacal smile, holding her right hand out in front of her as she regulated her breathing.

Her movements, which should have been slow, were fluid and seamless.

“Yargh!”

With a roar even louder than before, Alema stepped forward, her leg piercing the earth as she attacked with the flat of her hand, penetrating the defensive barrier of a nearby puppet and obliterating its head.

She turned her right hand upward. It moved like flowing water as it hit the neck of another oncoming puppet.

Then, fending off the hammer of a third machine with her left hand, she spun around and tore off its head with her right.

She took out three of them all at once…?! And with her bare hands…?!

“Whew! You’re good, lady!” Kevin cried despite himself.

Alema’s movements really were brilliant.

“I’M JUST GETTING WARMED UP!” she declared, plunging alone into the throng of oncoming puppets.

She’s certainly leveled up compared to last time…

According to information Ernest had received from Sinodomius while student council president, when Alema was defeated by Xinglou and lost her position as number one in Jie Long’s hierarchy, she had been given the right to challenge her successor whenever she saw fit. At the time, Xinglou had forbidden her from speaking while performing her duties. This was ostensibly because speaking aloud wasn’t required to fulfill one’s tasks as an intelligence operative, but perhaps it also served as a valuable training exercise.

In martial arts, vocalizing was one of the main components of demonstrating power. In particular, some Chinese schools passed down special methods known as thunder voices, which Alema had mastered. Xinglou must have had her suppress her voice in order to improve her basic abilities.

Indeed, Alema now seemed much more capable than Ernest remembered.

It was obvious that she had surpassed Hufeng Zhao, the current head of the Wood sect, in every metric barring speed. In terms of raw martial arts ability, she was right up there with Xiaohui Wu.

Uh-oh… If she keeps this up, I’m going to lose control again.

Ernest felt a ferocious beast awakening inside him.

“HAH! WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I THOUGHT I SENSED A DEMONIC PRESENCE BEHIND ME… I LIKE HOW YOU THINK, ERNEST. SEEING AS WE’RE BOTH HERE, WHY DON’T WE HAVE A GO AT EACH OTHER?” Alema laughed, glancing his way as she took out more puppets with a single blow.

Their eyes locked, filling the space with a dangerous tension, when—

“…!”

Both he and Alema felt goose bumps rise on their skin.

They both turned to see the figure of a young girl below the oversized air-window. She seemed to be watching the match.

“…OH, COME ON, SERIOUSLY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, APEIRON?”

When he heard Alema call out that name, Ernest swallowed heavily.

Apeiron, the Witch of Foundational Principles, alias of Fevroniya Ignatovich. She was Allekant’s semi-legendary Page One, who hardly ever ventured out into public view. In fact, this was the first time Ernest had ever seen her in person.

“…You two. You’re getting on my nerves, you know?”

As if in response to Alema’s remark, Fevroniya, holding an open book in one hand, turned her sleepy eyes their way.

The next moment, all the puppets in their immediate vicinity twisted violently, their torsos tearing off and exploding in all directions.

“…”

Her display of overwhelming power left everyone speechless.

Meanwhile, Fevroniya turned her gaze back to the overhead screen as though nothing had happened.

“Ah, there you are…! I thought I told you not to run off by yourself… Huh?”

All of a sudden, someone familiar came running over, gasping for breath—Shuuma Sakon, Allekant’s student council president.

“Well, this is an unusual group…”

“President Sakon, what are you doing here?”

Shuuma had practically zero fighting ability and was in no position to be hanging around such a dangerous area. His situation was completely different from that of Ernest, who had already retired as his school’s student council president.

“It would take too long to explain… To put it simply, we—Fevroniya and I—were caught up in these terrorist attacks while out in the city. We tried to make our way back to the school, but the lakeside district is swarming with puppets, so we decided to go through the commercial area. Then all of a sudden, Fevroniya started running this way…” Shuuma explained all this with an embarrassed look, his shoulders slumping as he glanced at his companion. “As ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to Allekant without her help.”

Fevroniya, the girl in question, kept staring at the overhead air-window.

“It looks like she’s really keen on the match…,” Ernest remarked.

“Oh…that’s unusual. She doesn’t normally take any interest in the Festa.”

Following her lead, Ernest and the others looked at the display.

Ernest had come to the commercial area with Kevin and Lionel to watch the match. If he had asked Elliot, he could probably have reserved seats in the special viewing room, or else picked up some general admission tickets, but having already left the student council, he didn’t want special treatment. Besides, it was more fun to watch the match in the city streets without having to worry about everyone’s expectations. In the end, however, other matters had taken precedence.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but the Glühen Rose is really something, huh? To be honest, I thought the match would have been decided by now,” Kevin remarked.

“She’s on a whole other level from the likes of us. Who knows? She might even manage to come out on top,” Lionel added.

The two of them had finally found time to catch a breather.

But more puppets could show up at any moment. They had to remain on their toes.

“A DECISIVE BATTLE BETWEEN TWO STREGAS… WHAT ABOUT YOU, APEIRON?” Alema asked lightly, turning to Fevroniya. “COULD YOU BEAT THOSE TWO?”

“…Against the Glühen Rose, I’m not sure. But Erenshkigal would probably be too much.”

“OH?” Alema’s eyes widened in surprise—either at Fevroniya’s answer, or at the frankness of her admission.

“I haven’t trained to fight, so against Erenshkigal, it would come down to our abilities. In that case, there’s no way I could keep up, given the difference in our power outputs. Right?”

“H-hold on, Fevroniya!” Shuuma interrupted in panic. “What are you doing, telling outsiders about your weaknesses?! And intelligence agents from other schools, no less!”

“Oh…” Fevroniya fell silent.

It was true that she didn’t seem to have any specialist fighting knowledge or skills. According to intel from Sinodomius, she had an unbelievable ability that involved rewriting the laws of physics, but she had to carry a book on her at all times to use as a catalyst. If that was true, it was one more weakness that an opponent might take advantage of.

“B-but what a surprise…! Up till now, Fevroniya has only ever recognized two opponents she couldn’t defeat. That’s Erenshkigal for you,” Shuuma interjected, obviously trying to change the subject.

“Oh? Who might those two be?” Ernest asked, choosing to go along with the diversion.

Shuuma’s face relaxed in visible relief. “The first is a certain someone from Jie Long who goes without saying. But the other one might surprise you.”

Indeed, the name that rolled from Shuuma’s lips came as a shock even to Ernest.

“The chairman of the Festa Executive Committee—oh, right, I guess he’s technically the former chairman now. Madiath Mesa.”

“…Well, you’re a tenacious one, I’ll give you that. I wouldn’t have expected you to last through five attacks,” Madiath said, looking astonished.

“Haaah… Haaah… Haaah…!”

Ayato could only pant in response.

He’d just endured five encirclement attacks from pieces of the Raksha-Nada.

Thanks to his shiki state, he had managed, albeit barely, to protect his head, his vitals, and the tendons in his limbs necessary to move freely, but the rest of his body was completely shredded.

The pain was already mind-numbing, and the bleeding was even worse. It wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t move at all.

Before that happened, he had to—

“Well then, let’s try it a sixth time.”

Once again, a cloud of shimmering crimson shards appeared all around him.

The fragments maintained their distance at first, but the net they formed around him slowly closed in, and no matter how he moved, they simply shifted along with him, trapping him.

“It would really help me out if you just gave up now,” said Madiath in a calm, emotionless voice, just as the fragments dove toward Ayato. Their movement now felt less like an attack and more like a rote task.

Ayato desperately countered with the Ser Veresta. At times, he deflected them with the edge of his blade, while at others, he twisted his body to evade their attacks. All the while, he withstood the storm, his dance-like movements scattering drops of blood.

Throughout it all, Ayato continued to observe Madiath.

This feat was only possible thanks to the fact that he had given his body over to his shiki state, allowing it to reflexively perform a variety of automatic maneuvers.

“Dear me, what a waste. You’re only prolonging your suffering,” Madiath said with a sigh.

Had he noticed?

Of course, Madiath was by no means complacent. He had the overwhelming advantage here, but if Ayato was the type to let his guard down, this fight would have already been over.

Though he was one-sidedly toying with Ayato, it was clear that Madiath remained firmly vigilant, ready to deal with any unforeseen possibilities. Above all, he wasn’t devoting the entirety of the Raksha-Nada to his encirclement attacks. Small crimson pieces continued to glimmer in midair, ready to protect him from any unexpected counters.

That was why Ayato had to time his move perfectly.

No opportunity had presented itself during the first five attacks.

If he had been fighting anyone else, anyone besides this man with his formless, patternless combat style, he would have long since seized his chance.

Just because he had managed to withstand his opponent’s strikes so far didn’t mean that he was able to conquer them. In fact, Madiath’s style of fighting was impossible to conquer.

Ayato just had to take his time, probing for a weakness.

Monitoring Madiath’s breathing, the direction of his gaze, his every movement.

…And finally, a chance presented itself.

“Oh? Did Riessfeld use her special technique? In that case, the match will soon be settled—”

At that moment, Ayato dashed forward, closing the distance between them in a single breath—charging like a blinding sword flash.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Ultimate Technique III—Uwabami.”

Without warning, blood gushed from Madiath’s chest as his left arm fell limply to the ground, separated at the elbow.

“What…?”

For the first time, he looked surprised.

At the same moment, Ayato collapsed to the floor.

He managed to catch himself with his hands, but if he dropped his guard even for a moment, he risked slipping out of consciousness. Gritting his teeth, he fell back, putting some distance between himself and his opponent, and leaned against the wreckage of a fallen pillar, readying the Ser Veresta in front of him.

He had brute-forced his way through the Raksha-Nada’s encirclement attacks, and the fragments had torn through his body, leaving considerable damage to some of his vital areas.

“…So you pulled it off,” Madiath said with a glare as he called the fragments back to his sword.

Several other shards locked together to form a tourniquet, wrapping around the stump of his arm to stem the bleeding. It was a convenient tool, that was for sure.

“I didn’t think you had another ultimate technique up your sleeve. So what kind of trick was that, then? I never would have expected you to pull off something I couldn’t respond to.”

“…I’ll leave you guessing,” Ayato replied, brushing the question off with a forced smile.

The Amagiri Shinmei style had three ultimate techniques. Among them, the Tsugomori was the perfect counter, the Wazaogi the perfect defense, and the Uwabami the perfect move for taking the initiative.

Precisely what it meant to take the initiative when countering and attacking tended to differ from one martial arts school to another, but in the Amagiri Shinmei style, it went beyond simply attacking before the enemy—it meant striking before they were even aware of the attack.

In other words, to deal an utterly inescapable blow.

However, it went without saying that once a battle was underway, pulling off such a feat was extremely difficult. After all, it was folly to let yourself get distracted in such a situation.

But people weren’t machines. No matter how skilled they were, complete control over every detail of one’s physical and mental self was beyond the realm of possibility. The human body isn’t controlled solely by the conscious mind, just as one’s heart doesn’t stop beating when one goes to sleep. No one can consciously process every iota of information that they take in.

No matter how vigilant and prepared one might be, there were always fluctuations. The blink of an eye, for example, or a momentary distraction caused by a piece of debris falling behind you. Small details, out of one’s control.

Of course, you would need more than just one such distraction if you hoped to take the initiative. But when they piled up—when those details came together, they created gaps in one’s awareness that even the person in question wouldn’t notice.

But such moments tended to last less than a thousandth of a second, and with the individual themselves unaware of them, it was well-nigh impossible for others to catch on. Even if they could, by the time they thought to launch an attack, the opportunity would have already passed. It should have been impossible to exploit such an opening.

…Unless one was in the state of shiki, that is.

By maximizing and deepening the enhanced perception afforded by the state of shiki—the very essence of the Amagiri Shinmei style’s various perception enhancement techniques—he could read fluctuations lasting only the briefest of moments. Through his understanding of the overall situation, he could even predict the moment they would overlap.

The heavy blow that he had unleashed with that perfect timing was his Uwabami technique.

Since it took advantage of his opponent’s lapse in awareness, not only would Madiath be unable to evade, but he wouldn’t be able to defend himself with the Raksha-Nada, either.

Or at least that was how it was supposed to play out.

That blow just now…it didn’t feel quite strong enough. The moment my blade reached him, did he reflexively twist his body to avoid it…?!

The speed required would have been superhuman.

Was it due to the transformation of his prana?

“Well, an arm is a small price to pay if it means seeing the plan to completion. I’ll just get a healer to reattach it. After I kill you, that is.”

Madiath was now frowning slightly, his earlier surprise nowhere to be seen.

“The fact that you waited so long to use that technique must mean you can’t easily repeat it, no?”

“…”

Madiath had guessed right.

It took a considerable amount of time to establish the right conditions to use Ayato’s Uwabami technique. It wasn’t the kind of move that could be performed on a whim. Given his physical state, he would have difficulty pulling it off again.

“Ha-ha-ha. Looks like I hit the mark. And now you’ve revealed another weakness for me to abuse.”

“Another weakness…?” Ayato repeated as he brought his breathing under control.

Madiath arced an eyebrow. “…Even now, you still haven’t tried to kill me, have you?”

“…!”

“A swordsman can train to conceal his killing intent, but if you had actually intended to slay me, you would have cut a little deeper. Though a fatal blow may well have been out of reach.”

“I…”

He was right again.

It was true that Ayato hated Madiath, after everything that he had done to his sister—but even now, he had no intention of taking the man’s life.

“You’re a fool. A true fool. I’m under no obligation to tell you this, but as someone who fought his way through this boring, insipid city, just as you have, I’ll give you one piece of advice. You control your inner bloodlust well, but doing so keeps you from reaching me. Cultivate it, that savagery of yours. When need be, release your inner anger, your hatred, your desire to kill. If you don’t come at me with the intent to end my life, you’ll never win.”

Bloodlust was a negative emotion—a harrowing spirit that filled one’s opponent with fear.

It could be found in everyone’s heart, and it was certainly a source of strength in a fight.

And yet—

“…No,” Ayato said quietly.

“Oh? And why not?”

“I don’t want to be like you.”

“Hah…!”

Madiath brought the Raksha-Nada around, the blade’s small fragments assembling into long, thin chains. The result was a serpentine, whiplike weapon, similar in shape to the Serpent Blade Ororomunt. Five of those chains spread out like the feathers of a peacock, attacking as if they had minds of their own.

Ayato ran across the stage, leaping, slashing, and parrying with the Ser Veresta to dodge the blades as they came at him from above and below. Every time he put weight on his legs, blood spurted from the wounds crisscrossing his body, and he could feel his strength seeping out second by second. But if he stopped moving, it would all be over.

The crimson serpentine blades cut though everything in their path, pillars and ground alike, pursuing him as he fled. They refused to let up, giving him no time to catch his breath, but he continued to dodge all the same, assessing the logic of their movements.

On careful inspection, the links at the very end of the chains consisted of fragments more than twice as large as the rest. Since it was difficult to control small pieces, his opponent was probably only freely manipulating those larger ones, letting them drag the rest of the chain behind them.

In that case—

Ayato dove between two of the whiplike blades, then spun around and darted for Madiath.

“Hmm?”

Naturally, his foe was ready to intercept him with the Raksha-Nada, while the remaining three whips pursued him from behind—a textbook pincer attack.

But just before Ayato could reach Madiath, he slammed on the brakes, his blade slashing through the first link of the oncoming whiplike blades as he spun around.

Having lost control, the serpentine swords careened straight for Madiath—but defeating him wouldn’t be quite so easy. Just before they reached him, they froze in midair.

With his focus on manipulating the Raksha-Nada, however, his opponent had left himself open.

“Hah!”

“Tch…!”

But Ayato’s blow, struck at the most opportune moment, passed through naught but thin air.

Madiath had managed to dodge Ayato’s blade.

“That was close… Your ability to respond to attacks is not to be underestimated,” he said, before lowering his voice dangerously. “I can’t let you get the better of me because I kept teasing you for too long. I think it’s about time. Let’s finish this head-on.”

Madiath’s bloodlust swelled up from within, the prana filling his body shining with a blinding radiance. His vicious will was clear—he wanted to overturn, crush, and destroy everything in front of him.

Ayato, fighting not to get swallowed up by it, held the Ser Veresta ready in front of him.

A head-to-head duel was exactly what he wanted. After all, he didn’t have much time left.

“…Come!”

At that word, Ayato and Madiath lunged for each other.

Madiath’s strange gait confused Ayato’s sense of distance, but he managed to block the oncoming blow with Ser Veresta.

His opponent was just as fast as before, but with his left arm gone, his physical strength was noticeably diminished.

Ayato slashed at his foe’s feet as they changed places, but Madiath’s blade instantly repelled him.

His automatic defenses, it seemed, were still alive and well.

And just as his own Ser Veresta was repelled, something slashed at him from behind.

“…?!”

Though he dodged the attack thanks to his heightened senses, if he had been even a half-second slower, he would have been cut in half.

Glancing around, he spotted a red battle-ax floating in midair.

And that wasn’t all.

Following behind the battle-ax, a cross spear lunged for his throat, while the blade of the Raksha-Nada itself, gripped firmly in Madiath’s right hand, shot toward his thigh.

“Gah…!”

A Rect Lux…?! No, this is something else…!

Before he knew it, the Raksha-Nada had changed in size to match Ayato’s own Ser Veresta, from that of a huge longsword to a standard blade.

He must have used the remaining material to forge that battle-ax and cross spear.

“Well, I am missing one arm. I need something to even things out, no? Think of this as the ace up my sleeve.”

Madiath laughed breezily—but this battle had already taught Ayato just how much danger this posed.

With the fragments combined into weapons of these sizes, he could probably control them just as accurately as if he were holding them in his hand. He was essentially wielding three different weapons freely, each with different stances and attack methods, while keeping Ayato surrounded. On top of that, as a combat genius, Madiath was just as skilled at fighting with axes and spears as he was with swords.

Ayato, too, had learned all the different martial arts while training in the Amagiri Shinmei style, but he probably fell short of Madiath’s ability, with his formless, unpredictable style.

And to top it all off, Madiath had his automatic defense system.

In terms of both offense and defense, Ayato’s opponent was clearly superior.

“Now then, are you having second thoughts? Do you still think you can extricate yourself from this situation without slaying me? Don’t be shy, unleash your inner savagery…!” Madiath demanded again as he lashed out at Ayato, now completely on the defensive.

“…I refuse!”

Ayato was shocked by the weight of the battle-ax’s strike.

Its output was completely different from a Rect Lux. The oversized Rect Lux wielded by Rodolfo Zoppo had also packed considerable power, but its speed and accuracy fell far short of what Ayato was fighting now.

“You fool! You ignorant fool! You’re so crippled by your naïveté that even I feel sorry for you! Your body is constrained by the Amagiri Shinmei style, your soul shackled by petty human morality! You’re bound hand and foot!”

The truth was, Ayato wasn’t refusing out of moral conviction.

But if he was to overcome Madiath Mesa here, it wouldn’t be by stooping to his opponent’s level. He knew that intuitively, in his gut.

Ayato had never killed anyone before. He had once resolved to take down Orphelia for Julis if it became absolutely necessary, but he realized now just how naive, how shallow, how foolish his thinking had been back then.

Madiath’s very existence was a denial of this whole city—of Asterisk. For that reason, Ayato felt that if he was going to oppose him, he had to work within Asterisk’s framework, and the Stella Carta that governed the Festa didn’t permit intentional killing.

Even Ayato didn’t fully approve of everything Asterisk stood for. In fact, in his own way, he was rather critical of it. But the truth was, there were things that could be accomplished only in this city, and he was where he was today thanks to this place.

It was wrong for those who had left that framework to try to crush it.

That was why Ayato had no intention of killing Madiath.

“So…! You…! Are you claiming you’re free?!”

Ayato barely avoided a string of three sword, ax, and spear strikes. Their timing was irregular yet unsparing.

“More than you, at least!”

In fact, Madiath’s fighting style didn’t seem to be bound by anything. It was truly without form or rhythm. His weapons moved seamlessly, imbued with a heavenly beauty that any martial artist would aspire to.

And yet—

Just then, a question popped into Ayato’s mind.

“…You said your goal was to accelerate progress, right?” he asked.

Madiath’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, indeed! To accelerate the flow of time! To sweep away the dregs of this bygone age!”

The Raksha-Nada crashed into Ayato’s torso, knocking him back.

He was bleeding so badly that he could barely stay on his feet, but he clenched his teeth and managed, somehow, to keep going.

Then, fully cognizant of the distance between himself and his opponent, Ayato regulated his breathing.

“You know what they say about people who encounter misfortune or tragedy?” Madiath said as though he was making small talk. “They were born in the wrong era. They were ahead of their time. Whenever I hear some flippant excuse like that, I think to myself…” He paused there, lowering his head as he took a long, deep breath. “What a joke.”

Ayato shivered at the deep hatred and immeasurable rage that lay behind those words.

“Their time? The wrong era? Don’t try to cover it up with some vague, hackneyed cliché!” Madiath’s roar reverberated through the chill underground air. “Yes, if Akari had been born earlier, she wouldn’t have had so many worries. There would have been no room for that. For a while after Genestella came into the world, they didn’t even think about things like discrimination. They were too few in number, and their lives were completely controlled. If she had been born a little later, no doubt she would have lived more freely. In the not-too-distant future, I’m sure regular people will have to fundamentally rethink the way they relate to Genestella.”

Though Madiath was speaking aloud, Ayato got the feeling that his words were directed inward.

“No, she suffered only because she was born in the dim twilight of this hazy in-between time, neither day nor night. I can still see her bitter smile. Neither laughing nor crying. That smile was like a symbol of Akari Yachigusa’s situation in life—and the city of Asterisk itself… It’s utterly repulsive.”

“…So that’s what you meant by acceleration.”

Ayato finally understood.

What Madiath hated so bitterly was the present age itself.

“Yes, that’s right. Right indeed. I will force change on this undefined era. If regular people and Genestella part ways and clash, the world will be forced to evolve. Whether the two sides will reconcile as equals once it’s all over, or whether one will subjugate the other, doesn’t matter to me. Either way, society will reach a decisive conclusion.”

Madiath spoke with a devil-may-care attitude, but he must have meant every word of it. For him, the outcome was unimportant.

It wasn’t even a wish, this desire of his—just pure tyranny.

“You think you have the right to decide that all by yourself?!”

In a single breath, Ayato closed the distance between them and lashed out with the Ser Veresta.

“When people say they were born into the wrong era,” Madiath bellowed, “it’s because they don’t have the power to change it. I had the power to change it, and the position, too. So there’s no reason not to make it happen!”

Instead of relying on his automatic defenses, Madiath parried Ayato’s attack with the Raksha-Nada itself.

As their blades locked together, the battle-ax and cross spear rushed at him from behind.

“It’s over!” Madiath declared, assured of his victory.

But Ayato parried the battle-ax approaching from overhead with the Ser Veresta in his right hand, and without even turning around, he used his left arm to swat away the tip of the cross spear about to pierce him from behind.

“How?!”

“I understand now. You’re not free. You’re bound by the past.”

As Ayato said this, Madiath’s expression gave way to rage.

No—this anger had likely always been seething inside him and was only now rising to the surface.

…Perhaps he had always been consumed by hatred and fury, long before he’d ever met Ayato or Haruka.

“Don’t assume to know me!” he fumed, lashing out with a three-step thrust like an oncoming thunderbolt.

Ayato, however, dodged the strike with a bare minimum of movement.

“Impossible! You saw through me?!”

No.

What Ayato had seen was the source of Madiath Mesa’s strength.

His anger.

For him, it was stronger, more intense, more powerful than any other emotion—and it was the basis of his bloodlust.

But in the Amagiri Shinmei style—as in a great many martial arts—the first thing one learned was this:

Never let your anger get the better of you.

“Hah!”

Ayato slashed diagonally to the right with the Ser Veresta.

Just like before, pieces of the Raksha-Nada came together, forming a blade in midair to catch the blow.

This time, however, the outcome was different.

The urm-manadite within the Ser Veresta shone even brighter than before and burned clean through the opposing blade.

“Ngh?!”

Madiath leaped backward to dodge the slash, but his expression now betrayed a hint of agitation alongside his fury.

It made perfect sense, if you stopped to think about it.

The Ser Veresta and the Raksha-Nada were Orga Luxes of the same rank, so under normal circumstances, it should have been impossible for mere fragments of the latter to block a strike from the former. The Raksha-Nada’s defense was effective only because it suddenly formed new blades in a space where none should exist—in effect, catching Ayato off guard. But if the wielder of the Ser Veresta knew from the beginning precisely when and where his attack would be blocked, there was no way that the strike could be deflected.

As though the Ser Veresta itself now understood this, it trembled in Ayato’s hand.

Perhaps, in its own way, it was proud to have proven itself a match for the Raksha-Nada.

“…Hah! I see, I see. I’ll admit it, I’m bound by the past… By Akari. That’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to lose to you!”

Rushing forward with blinding speed, Madiath unleashed a simultaneous attack from three directions.

As expected, Ayato couldn’t handle all three of them, and he winced as the Raksha-Nada tore through his side.

“Ugh…!”

The truth was, Ayato may have seen through Madiath’s true nature and breached his automatic defenses, but he still hadn’t gained the upper hand. His foe’s formless fighting style was tremendously powerful—the real deal—and in physical terms, Madiath remained overwhelmingly superior.

But most of all, the wear and tear that Ayato had suffered throughout their encounter was proving too much. Madiath may have taken a fair amount of damage, too, but Ayato could barely keep himself standing. At this rate, he would probably pass out within minutes.

And yet—

“There’s still one advantage I have over you,” Ayato murmured with a faint smile as he coughed up blood.

“…?!”

“What you consider a burden, I see as connection…!”

That’s right.

There was no way he was about to lose to a man who saw his bonds with others as constraints holding him back.

Ayato had formed bonds with a great many people during his time here.

Saya, Claudia, Kirin, Sylvia, Eishirou, Lester, Irene, Priscilla, Flora, Ernesta, Camilla, Ardy, Rimcy, Ernest, Elliot, Xinglou, Hufeng, Minato, Yuzuhi, Helga, Kyouko… The list was endless.

For that reason alone, this city held a special place in his heart.

And above all else—

For a brief second, he glanced at the air-window showing the ongoing match.

Seeing his most valuable partner on the screen, he recalled what he had told her the other day.

“…So that’s why I’m going to finish this!”

“What nonsense…!”

As Ayato stepped forward, Madiath plunged the Raksha-Nada deep into his side, then pulled it out.

Madiath had been a step faster, recovering his battle stance before Ayato could swing his blade.

And yet—

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, First Technique—Twin Serpents!”

Ayato’s blade slipped past his foe’s weapon, carving a cross into his body.

“Wh-what…?”

Madiath watched, incredulous, as the Raksha-Nada fell from his hands.

The move Ayato had just used wasn’t one of the Amagiri Shinmei style’s ultimate or hidden techniques, but one of its most basic battle forms. One that he had practiced thousands, no, tens of thousands of times.

This, too, was a kind of bond—that between Ayato and his sword.