Ishura - Volume 4 - Chapter 12.2

“…Rosclay! Wait a minute, Rosclay!”

Yaniegiz the Chisel’s call to Rosclay the Absolute to stop him came as he was stepping out into the castle garden theater arena, at the very last possible moment.

“Yaniegiz?”

Yaniegiz was out of breath. Rosclay could tell he was coming with truly urgent news.

“Y-you won’t believe it…! Your opponent…Jivlart the Ash Border is dead! He died in an accident! Elea the Red Tag… There wasn’t any time to search for a new candidate, but right before the match…”

“…What did you say?”

Rosclay was bewildered. How had something like this happened?

Elea’s movements—particularly whether she had made contact with anyone powerful enough to possibly serve as a substitute candidate—had been under complete and constant surveillance up until the day of the match.

Given such a situation, could she have any possible reason to dispose of her own candidate? Did some unforeseen circumstances leave her no choice but to kill him? Could his death have been an honest and true accident?

“In which case…it doesn’t sound like this match will end with a win by default, will it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right! She’s already set up her replacement candidate…! The enemy isn’t Jivlart the Ash Border… I-it’s that girl! She doesn’t have a second name! The Iznock Royal High School student, Kia!”

Kia. It was the name of the girl from Ownopellal’s report.

A young elf girl who Elea the Red Tag had brought back with her from Eta Sylvan Province and who she was personally providing an education.

Her physical training scores were average. Her grades in classroom lectures were poor. Her grades in Word Arts studies were abysmal.

The plainly available information was enough, at the very least, to be certain that she was not a talent meant to be standing on the Sixways Exhibition stage as a fighter.

…What is her purpose here? Under these circumstances, it’s too late to cancel the match. What is Elea the Red Tag aiming for by setting Kia up as her replacement? Is this girl supposed to be strong enough to advance through the tournament? Is Kia’s student status not enough, and she needs to give her the title of participant in order to curry favor with the Queen? Or perhaps Jivlart truly did die in an accident, and she had no other person she could compel to take the stage?

He looked at Yaniegiz. His breathing was ragged. Like Rosclay, he, too, was in turmoil.

The Ninth General, Yaniegiz, was one of Rosclay’s compatriots, and they had fought together for a long, long time. He was waiting for a decision. A decision from the leader of their artificial champion, Rosclay.

Think. Think. Think. Given the already abnormal situation, I need to imagine the worst scenario. She’s just a girl. Tu the Magic’s just a girl, too, if only going off her outward appearance. What if Elea had been hiding a trump card, on Tu the Magic’s level, for this very moment? Her Word Arts grades were abysmal. But that’s just her classroom scores. Unlike any sort of physical abilities, she could feign those—a Word Arts user. Supposing she was one, what would be the focal point of her Word Arts in this battle? What will she do?

His thoughts whirled with tremendous speed. Even if he hypothesized that Kia was a Word Arts user, was there even a single plan he could come up with in this short time, the start of the match imminent, that could reliably seal off her means of attack and give them the initiative?

Defeat was death. At his back, death always loomed imminent.

Rosclay the Absolute’s battles were a constantly repeating cycle of such extreme situations.

“Sprinkle water. Yaniegiz, can you sprinkle water as some special staging setup before the match?”

“Not an easy ask, no sir…! It’ll be tight, for sure. We can rush a street performer over and mix in water as they sprinkle their confetti! Yeah, that’ll work! What then?!”

“I’m presuming our enemy is a Word Arts user! With our arena already decided ahead of time, the focal point she’ll use will either be earth or wind! We’ll mix in water missing from the arena with those two properties and turn them to mud and fog! With the disparity in their characteristics, it’ll delay the Word Arts invocation by a hair’s breadth—and delay her move. In that delay, it’ll be my only chance to close the distance and cut her down!”

“Rosclay! Your opponent… She’s still a child, you know?!”

“That might be part of her calculations. That I…that Aureatia’s hero would see his opponent’s appearance and hesitate to attack! We’ll try not to kill—no, we’ll make it look like we’re not killing her! Can you do it?!”

“At once…! Be careful, Rosclay!”

Rosclay advanced forward together with tensed resolve. Backing down wasn’t an option.

The audience packed into the venue was at a loss.

An inconceivable and absurd presence was standing face-to-face with Aureatia’s strongest knight. A pretty young elf girl, wholly inappropriate for this true duel arena.

Golden hair with streaks of white. Clear turquoise eyes, like a lake surface, perfectly positioned on her face.

Nevertheless, she was terrifying.

…Kia. What is your second name? What are you going to come at me with?

To Rosclay, this normal young girl, this unknown who should not be, suddenly showing up in the middle of his slowly and carefully built-up strategy, made him more terrified than anything else could.

“…So you’re Rosclay?”

“……”

“…Aren’t you cool.”

The young girl simply looked up at Rosclay and muttered curtly to him.

Desperately hiding his fear of the unknown, Rosclay smiled.

“Thank you. Please don’t be too hard on me.”

Beyond her clothes, Kia didn’t hold any vessel that would’ve served as a focal point for Word Arts. If she clearly had that sort of equipment with her, then Yaniegiz would’ve reported as much to him.

If this girl was going to attack with Word Arts, she would have to use either the wind or the earth, after all.

The adjudicator Meeka commanded they both space out from each other, and Rosclay measured the distance in the back of his head.

One step. Two steps. Two steps, and he was in sword range. Was that close? Or was that too far away?

Meeka proclaimed—

“At the sound of the band’s gunshot…begin!”

Rosclay was listening to the beating of his own heart.

Time seemed to extend out for an eternity between Meeka’s proclamation and the sound of the starting gun.

The band’s gun was aimed into the sky. Nearby, a street performer scattered water all around.

Together with the pouring artificial rain, the ground of the garden theater grew damp…

…No! That won’t be enough moisture!

The ground of the garden theater, also used as an athletic field, was blanketed with sand, which drained water well.

It was more precarious than he expected. Even with his intelligence and experience, he had been unable to perfectly predict everything down to the geological changes that would result from the sprinkled water.

The effect wouldn’t be enough to delay any soil-based Word Arts. What if he used a technique to separate himself from the ground?

He revised his estimation of the distance between them to three paces. He needed to add one more to his opening steps, using the extra step to jump high into the air, and slash from midair, where Kia’s height would make dealing with the attack difficult.

Using the hidden radzio he carried, he gave a new order to the personnel assisting him.

“Viga! I want your greatest Thermal Arts right as the match starts!”

<Yes, I know. We’re delaying the band’s gunshot on our end. We can do it right on your signal, Rosclay.>

There was no need to cut down Kia with his feet planted on the ground. With the sprinkled water, Kia had already been sprayed with enough moisture, while Rosclay defended himself with his insulated gauntlet. Viga, using long-range Word Arts through the radzio, would support him by using Rosclay’s sword as the focal point for his electric Thermal Arts. He could place his trust in its accuracy more than any other, having used it to overcome many dilemmas before.

Hit with one attack. Focus everything on it.

A surprise attack from midair. The moment his sword connected, electricity would flow through it and knock out Kia—or immediately kill her—in one strike.

He didn’t need to cut deep. If this attack felled Kia, then to the people, it would look as if he had knocked her unconscious with the back of his sword but without injuring her at all.

There wasn’t anyone among the audience who would be able to verify the girl’s fate when she’d be carried out of the arena.

…I’m sorry.

It was possible that all of this might have been nothing more than Rosclay’s groundless fears.

She could simply be an innocent and misfortunate little girl. At the very least, she was still young, with a future ahead of her.

The fact that he was trying to cruelly end it all was both Rosclay’s cowardice and the heavy responsibility of a hero.

If it wasn’t for the eyes of the people around him, he could have saved her, just like when he had saved Iska.

He couldn’t, though. He wasn’t strong enough to win while showing his enemy such mercy.

Rosclay the Absolute was required to achieve an absolute victory.

Match four.

Rosclay the Absolute versus Kia the World Word.

I’m sorry, Kia.

Subtly rolling his wrists, he secretly gave the order to start the match. Rosclay could control the timing of the match’s start. When the gunshot echoed, Rosclay was already moving his center gravity.

I’m sorry! I must…take you down!

Rosclay dashed with everything he had.

The opening steps of Aureatia’s most just knight were as fast as bullets. Speed that was far too fast for the young girl to possibly react.

One step. He took his second ste—

“Bury him.”

Suddenly.

Darkness enveloped Rosclay’s sights. The earth ferociously bulged, as if opening up its maw, swallowing Rosclay and burying him completely.

Both his breath and his thoughts were cut off.

The audience’s cheers disappeared suddenly, as if doused with water.

He had read the situation and correctly guessed his enemy was a Word Arts user. He had manipulated the arena environment and disturbed the focal point for her Word Arts. He had adapted to unforeseen circumstances and formulated a strategy. He had both an attack he expected to bring instant victory and the resolve to use it.

It was all meaningless.

Within the vast garden theater, the absolute hero Rosclay had already disappeared—on the ground where he should have been standing, there was only a silent mountain of dirt soaring up into the air.

The Word Arts of Kia the World Word were nearly omnipotent.

“Is that it?”

A delayed scream rose up from the surrounding seats.

Arrogantly looking past their cries, Kia turned her back on the champion’s pitiful state.

An overwhelmingly unrivaled being, unknown to all, impossible to even theoretically hypothesize.

However far he looked ahead, no matter how many elaborate plans he tried to weave together…

“Guess I win, then.”

…with just one single misjudgment…

The nameless citizens of Aureatia were always looking forward to Rosclay’s victories.

The day before the match, in one of the commonplace shops lining the Aureatia streets, just such an exchange was underway.

“Hey, so for tomorrow’s match. You’re rooting for Rosclay, right, Deela?”

A boy leaned his body over the counter and spoke to the young man tending the store.

“…Yeah, I mean, it’s Rosclay and all. Here, a screwdriver. That’s all you need, right?”

“Hey, Deela! Is Rosclay really that amazing?”

“Yup. You’d get it if you had lived in Aureatia awhile like me.”

While he treated the boy coldly, he didn’t drive him out.

Speaking with his matter-of-fact tone, the store attendant continued.

“He isn’t a champion for an unknown someone or other out there. He’ll protect any citizen of Aureatia. Poor, orphans, it doesn’t matter. Even out here, a district on the edge of the city like this.”

“So then you have seen him before?”

“…Sure have.”

Closing his eyes, the young man recalled his memories of the time.

The champion’s flash, an honored memory left behind to all who witnessed it.

“He was up against a gigante revenant that apparently a self-proclaimed demon king created. Rosclay…kicked up the high wall, still in his armor. He ran up high enough to reach that monster’s eye, and he threw himself into the air and cut the thing down… Can you believe that? That man… He’s a minia, you know. Just the same as you and me.”

“…Ah-ha-ha. Reaaally, though? After hearing everyone’s stories, he definitely doesn’t sound like one to me.”

“He’s a minia.”

If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have ever stood in front of such a calamity to protect the citizens all by himself.

All the people knew that he constantly kept training with his sword.

All the people knew that he would look out for all the citizens, regardless of their social standing.

“He doesn’t seem that different from any of us, yet that guy’s a champion.”

“That’s impressive. So then a guy like Jivlart doesn’t stand a chance.”

“…Everyone living in Aureatia is indebted to Rosclay. He’s not any old champion… He makes you want to become just like him. If things go right, then someday—”

“Hey! Deelaaaa! Hurry up and close up shop!”

A voice came from farther inside the store. Already drunk. His impatient father.

The young man sighed and looked at his young customer.

“Sorry. Pops said we’re closing up early today. Said it’s a preliminary celebration of Rosclay’s victory tomorrow… Always something with him, seriously.”

“Really sorry for bugging you.”

“You’re going to watch the match tomorrow, right?”

“……! Yeah!”

As he cleaned up after his final customer had left, the store attendant let his blank expression give way to a slight smile.

More than any champion spoken of in poems. More than the legend of Alus the Star Runner or whoever.

As if to confirm that which he believed in more than anything else.

“Rosclay’s unbeatable.”

“Nooo, Rosclay…!”

“Rosclay!”

“It can’t be… Rosclay!”

“Rosclay! Get up, Rosclay!”

Sorrow and bewilderment was filling the stands. Watching the progress from the half-underground entrance into the arena, Elea the Red Tag closed her eyes.

Kia had won. Finally, Elea could have peace of mind. A ray of hope, at last.

Kia is invincible. Faster than Rosclay, she bested him with a single word.

The fact was proven to her in the best way possible—that Kia could go on and win the remaining three matches in just the same way.

The largest faction, ruined by their sponsored candidate, Rosclay, would need to incorporate Kia into their ranks, or the Sixways Exhibition couldn’t continue on. Since they needed to defeat Lucnoca the Winter, who was bound to continue on advancing in the third match down the line.

The fearsome ancient dragon that easily butchered Alus the Star Runner and turned the Mari Plains into a frozen land of death. In front of now-evident disaster, there was none other than Kia the World Word who could accomplish such a feat.

Furthermore, if they were going to control Kia, it meant they absolutely couldn’t eliminate Elea. It was for that reason she had spent such a long time building up a relationship of trust.

Her tutor, Elea, who Kia trusted more than anyone else.

The route to victory through the remaining part of the bracket had already been paved by Rosclay.

With this, the Sixways Exhibition was over.

“Silence!”

There was a clear and resonant voice amid the screams and uproar. The adjudicator tasked with observing all the matches of the Sixways Exhibition. A stout woman with a large frame, stern and solemn—Meeka the Whispered.

Her voice calmed the arena as it was descending into madness.

“As was agreed upon before the match! This true duel will be decided via one of two ways! A combatant is knocked down and doesn’t get up. A combatant forfeits the match of their own volition.”

Thus, with the match clearly decided to all present, she declared—

“However, Rosclay the Absolute has not been knocked down yet!”

Meeka’s declaration.

It took a moment for Elea to understand what it really meant.

It can’t be.

She felt like she was once again being dragged back into a terrifying dark abyss.

Meeka’s expression was as firm as steel.

Her tone remained steady, as if she was narrating a clear and obvious truth.

“As long as this fact holds true, this match will continue!”

The crowd’s cheers welled up once again.

The keeper of the judiciary. Aureatia’s Twenty-Sixth Minister, Meeka the Whispered.

Neither Elea…nor even Haade had raised any objections to tasking her with observing all the matches. As the Twenty-Nine Officials all confronted and spied on each other, she was supposed to be the neutral adjudicator they had all agreed on.

She’s been roped into the scheme, too… I can’t believe they even got to Meeka. The adjudicator for the matches is our enemy—

She heard the cracking sound of something breaking. The mountain burying Rosclay’s body was crumbling away, and it was slowly cut apart by a myriad of straight swords. Sword Craft Arts from his remote support.

No. She had a bigger problem than Meeka.

The fact that their fight was deemed to continue—the fact that the cheers were once again erupting through the arena.

From within the mass of earth, gaps appeared just big enough to breathe through, and a gauntleted hand appeared. Moving and grabbing a sword.

Elea gasped.

There was one more miscalculation. She looked toward Kia.

She didn’t…kill him…!

He wanted to gather his thoughts, but he was utterly drained.

His brain cells, cut off from oxygen, were reaching their limits just by maintaining consciousness, and various joints were dislocated or outright destroyed from being instantaneously squeezed under the earthen pressure.

Ignoring the intense pain, he fit his dislocated left shoulder back into place.

Gritting his teeth hard enough to draw blood, he nevertheless let out neither a scream nor a sob.

Because he was Rosclay the Absolute.

…Earthen Craft Arts. Irregularly fast activation speed…and scale…

Was his perception of them correct? This wasn’t adequate contemplation but merely the work of confirming what he saw with his own eyes.

Laboring against the pain, Rosclay brandished his weapon.

Kia the World Word, already making to leave the arena, looked back at the knight dubiously.

She knit her eyebrows, as if she was looking at a true fool.

“…What?”

Fed up and disdainful—even then, to Rosclay, it didn’t matter.

Even in that brief instant, he needed time. The time from stirring the girl’s emotions until she once again shifted to the attack. Time where, no matter how brief, he could study his enemy’s true nature and pick out a route to victory.

Her incantation…was nonexistent. It wasn’t a proper incantation. Her order to “bury me,” was a signal to some other people. Using a radzio just like me…for support from someone outside the match… But no, given that I’m her opponent here, then the soldiers would’ve verified for me whether she possessed some communication devices or not… A cleverly disguised method… Is there some other method of making Word Arts work remotely…? No… That’s not it…!

He couldn’t get his thoughts together. It wasn’t simply due to Rosclay’s fatigue, either.

It was because, according to the known logic of this world, the phenomenon Kia manifested was far too abnormal.

Elea hadn’t made contact with any other powerful players at all…! Even if there was someone here providing Kia support…! The only explanation is…with just simple Craft Arts alone, she managed to cast Word Arts…that possessed power and activation speed beyond even a self-proclaimed demon king’s level!

And because he saw the conclusion he absolutely didn’t want to reach.

If this phenomenon was being produced by some sort of mechanism, then he could prevent it from working. If he was able to perfectly see through the trick, Rosclay could conversely link it to a path to victory.

However, if there was no sort of mechanism or trick at all?

If the phenomenon he witnessed was the answer to it all—and that this young girl named Kia was a Word Arts user capable of using such tremendous Craft Arts?

Was it really okay for a monster of this level to appear out of nowhere without warning? A monster this ludicrous. This unparalleled.

…I need some path to victory—

Rosclay’s body was once again covered in soil. It was instantaneous.

“Bury him… What’s with you?”

It’s impossible.

Once again, within his darkened, enclosed hell, this time he heard the sound of the armor on his right leg break apart. Kia’s Craft Arts might easily be capable of strangling someone to death under the pressure of the soil. She was simply not doing so.

He had gained no new information. He was handled in the exact same way as before, and Rosclay was completely unable to avoid her attack.

“Ownopellal iokouto. Yurowastera. Vapmarsia wanwao. Sarpmorebonda. Utokma.” (From Ownopellal to the soil of Kouto. Reflect in replica. Jeweled crevice. Standstill stream. Advance.)

A voice speaking Word Arts immediately resounded from a radzio and tried to bring Rosclay back into the fight.

It’s impossible. Professor Ownopellal. It’s impossible.

Due to the experience and judgment he had cultivated for himself, he unfortunately understood it more clearly than anything else.

Spitting up dirt, simply trying to walk forward sent an intense pain through him from the tips of his destroyed toes.

This is totally impossible for me… I wasn’t able to devise any sort of measures for this situation. I wasn’t able to estimate an enemy like this. I’m a mere minia. I can’t win.

He wanted to collapse. He thought it was pointless.

What could he do up against an impossible-to-foresee and totally incomprehensible monster like this?

Stabbing his sword scabbard into the ground like a cane, Rosclay stood up.

“…Listen.”

Kia let out an exasperated tone.

Rosclay readied his sword, just as his staggering amount of training had drilled into him.

Earnestly finishing this meaningless motion was enough to make a painful groan slip out from deep in his throat.

“I don’t really want to be a bully here.”

“…I— Koff. I’m a knight who knows nothing but the sword. I’d like to taste the honor of facing off against the pinnacle of Word Arts for as long as possible.”

While he was spouting his cheap bravado, he hoped the next attack wouldn’t come. Rosclay was floundering.

…Floundering for a way to kill this girl.

There was a by-product of the Craft Arts that dismantled the mountain of soil. Straight swords that were littered about the ground.

Due to their vast numbers, it should have, in fact, meant she couldn’t keep aware of all of them.

“Antel io Jadwedo. Laeus 4 motbode. Temo yamvista. Iusemno. Xaonyaji.” (From Antel to the steel of Jawedo. The axis is the fourth left finger. Pierce sound. Descend from clouds. Circulate.)

The remote Power Arts support sent a sword flying. From a blind spot behind Kia, to sever her medulla oblongata.

The blade melted away and evaporated.

“?”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she turned around to look at the sword’s vestiges on the ground behind her.

It seemed she hadn’t even noticed a surprise attack had come at her until it was all over.

“…Oh, I forgot to actually say it out loud, didn’t I? Protect me from all danger.”

The Word Arts Kia had used during their match didn’t end at the Craft Arts that sealed her enemies away in an earthen coffin. Keeping herself protected was a shield of Thermal Arts powerful enough to blast away steel.

Absolute defensive power that had fully warded her against the famous poison of Higuare the Pelagic, without her noticing a thing.

To Rosclay, from the start, this latest attack had been nothing more than useless resistance with little chance of success. However.

Is there even any chance…?

Swords physically wouldn’t penetrate her. In other words, none of the methods of attack at Rosclay’s disposable would have any effect on her at all.

The truth was enough to shatter his mind to pieces.

Falling to his knees in despair, he was on the verge of crumbling to the ground. He stepped forward to hold himself aloft.

Rosclay steadied his blade, the motions deeply ingrained within him, and stared hard straight at Kia.

Stop. It’s impossible. I can’t do anything.

Even though he wanted to drop his sword, even though he wanted to collapse, even if he wanted to scream that it was all impossible, he was unable to do so.

Rosclay the Absolute was forbidden from using the defeat condition known as “surrender.”

“Huh… Excuse me…? This is weird, right…?”

It was Kia this time who puzzled over the true nature of her opponent.

Here she had thought that after showing off how overwhelmingly strong she was, there wouldn’t be any need to fight anymore.

However, the adjudicator Meeka had declared the fighting would continue, and Kia would still need to do something else in order to claim victory over the match.

“I mean… You get it, don’t you? Any way you slice it…it’s over. You’re gonna lose.”

“……”

Kia was far stronger than this Rosclay man in front of her. Stronger than any one of the other hero candidates entered into the Sixways Exhibition.

Be it Mele the Horizon’s Roar or Lucnoca the Winter, with a single word, she could make them grovel before her. She had thought that that sort of fight would’ve been all it took to claim the glory of victory and the salvation of her homeland.

“What do you think you’re going to do? From over there…and with those injuries.”

“…Hrk, koff!”

Yet Rosclay the Absolute was abnormal.

With a body so covered in wounds, the young girl could plainly see it all with a glance, nevertheless, he stood true.

Kia remembered the words Meeka had said. The conditions for winning this fight.

“…Hey, so. I just need to make sure you can’t get up, right?”

“I swear, I will—”

“Stop him.”

Rosclay was crushed to the ground as if pounded by an invisible iron sledgehammer.

All the power was erased from his body, down to the tips of his fingers.

“…Look! He can’t move at all now! Right?”

A flawless victory, indisputable to anyone there to witness it.

Kia smiled and looked toward Meeka. She looked to the spectators surrounding the area.

“Rosclay…”

“No, Rosclay…!”

“Get up! Rosclay!”

“Rosclay! Rosclay!”

Meeka was silent. She didn’t declare the match decided.

Kia could keep these Word Arts active for an eternity. It should have been a clear and evident win.

Knocked down and doesn’t get back up.

Everyone believed that Rosclay could still get back up from this situation.

Rosclay the Absolute was obligated to keep fighting until the bitter end.

“Roooosclaaay!”

“Don’t give up, Rosclay!”

“Rosclay! Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

“Nooo, Rosclay, please…!”

For Kia, it was a terribly sickening spectacle.

“…What’s with all this, seriously?!”

She looked at Rosclay, his movements halted. Naturally, there were no signs he would make a comeback.

…Far more than that, in fact. Kia realized the truth of the situation.

“Eek!”

With this, the Word Arts she could’ve kept up in perpetuity were expelled.

Rosclay grabbed the ground, coughing horribly, and stood up.

“Gahak…! Koff, hngh…gah…!”

No—he wasn’t just having a coughing fit. It went far beyond that.

His coughs were equivalent to the panting gasps of a victim moments before they drowned to death.

Just then, Kia realized Rosclay’s breathing had stopped.

Kia’s awesome Word Arts had, faithful to her own will, stopped all of Rosclay’s movements. Down to his involuntarily biological activity.

Kia backed off to avoid Rosclay. She didn’t want to get close to him.

Rosclay couldn’t even pursue her.

Standing squarely on the ground, he stared straight at Kia and properly readied his sword.

“Rosclay! Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

“Rosclay got up!”

“Rosclay!”

“Wh-why…? Why’re you getting up?!”

The girl’s appeal didn’t reach the enthusiastically fervent crowd.

It was an awfully unfair and terrifying scene.

Why wasn’t it all over? Why wouldn’t anyone let it end?

“I—I… I’m clearly winning here, aren’t I?! Right?!”

By this point, she was tearfully wailing.

Surrounded by the vast arena, everything was trying to make Kia out to be the enemy.

“Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

“Rosclay!”

Aureatia’s strongest knight was standing. Dragging his feet along, he stepped firmly and drew closer.

Even when that state alone should have made it clear that he couldn’t do anything.

The knight didn’t withdraw. The minia didn’t give up.

“After all that. After I had clearly had you totally beat!”

She wanted to win. She wanted to protect the homeland she held dearer than anything else.

What did she need to do? What did she have to do to win against this horrible foul play?

What were they trying to make her do? What did they expect Kia to do beyond what she already had?

“Kill him!”

Even though there was a voice screaming out to Kia, it mixed in with the cheers and didn’t reach her.

Clinging desperately to the arena’s entrance, Elea screamed.

It was clear by now. There remained only one way to decisively make this champion lose.

“Kill him! Killing that man…is the only way! Kia!”