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Re:Zero Kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu - Volume 4 - Chapter 107




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CHAPTER 107: WITH THE FINAL TRAP, 

Subaru: “Alright, counting on you for buying time like we planned.” 

Said Subaru to Otto after safely finding Lewes and reconvening with him. This being a handful of days after the situation was first divulged to Otto, he immediately sensed that this was the signal. They would engage the processes which they had spent the past two days preparing for. 

Otto: “I have no scruples against that, but do you have any thoughts as to Emilia-sama's whereabouts? If you cannot reconvene with Emilia-sama while I'm buying time, anything we try will end in absolute purposelessness...” 

Subaru: “That's going without oversight, 'd be pretty tough to say. It's because that went with oversights that we're in this situation now. But, well, you don't need to worry about it.” 

Scratching his head and his expression rather miserable, Subaru's face stiffened. When he with his sharp, or more rather genuinely nasty eyes made a serious expression, that alone made him seem like he was barely holding in his anger about something. While they haven't known each other long, Otto did know Subaru's character and so would not misinterpret his expression, but inevitably did think him the owner of a rather unfortunate visage. Subaru thought the same about Otto. Otto's failure to recognize that marked one of those weird points of commonality between friends. 

Subaru: “I've got an idea of where Emilia is. Honestly it's pathetic how I was flipping out panicking after hearing she was gone, but... calm down, and this's all it could be.” 

Otto: “I, see. And incidentally I'd... no, I'll refrain from asking.” 

Subaru: “Yeah? You know I don't mind if you keep talking, taking up the duty of praising my deductions?” 

Otto: “I'll refrain. I'm quite unwilling to be your sycophant, Natsuki-san, and supposing my timebuying ends in Garfiel capturing me, it'll surely be problematic for you should I prattle on and on, spilling everything?” 

Subaru nodded. It truly was a situation to worry about. Otto didn't think himself resilient against hurt to any notable degree, and he had no memory of ever sustaining pain that went beyond his limit. If a cornered Garfiel injured him, it's possible Otto would spew out all the information he knows. He did not wish in the least to sabotage Subaru in that fashion. 

Subaru: “Well, though saying it's you who's leaking the info, I really can only think it's over.” 

Otto: “—" 

And Subaru's response was a 'no worries go for it'. His expression suggested he had no idea how the recipient would feel, hearing that statement. 

With this much unconscious trust placed in them, who could betray it? 

Subaru wasn't even aware that he was doing it, which truly made him an outrageous friend. 

Otto: “Regardless, I will endeavour my utmost to ensure it goes smoothly for you. Since whether or not you pull this off will greatly impact my future.” 

Subaru: “Yeah. If I screw up splendidly, your future's hitting rock bottom. ...If you think it's looking bad, just run away. He's probably not going to take any joking today.” 

Otto: “...Yes, I will keep that option considered.” 

Otto responded to Subaru's considerate words with a faint grin. Resultant from his planning with Subaru, Otto laid the groundwork and finished making the necessary preparations: The Arlam evacuees are in their carriages with instructions to begin their escape shortly after himself, the bait, departs. 

The plan was that Otto's two carriages, loaded with the villager's clothes to fool Garfiel's nose, would venture along a highly conspicuous exit path as a lure. He had stuck through the nights investigating the routes the evacuees could use to flee, and firmly drilled them into each of the earth dragons. No failings anywhere. Supposedly. 

Then Otto's status as a decoy just needed to leak, while the evacuees succeed in escaping outside, and they're all good. Alongside their escape from the Sizeable Hare, due to attack in two days, they would provide Subaru and Emilia the time they need to speak. Then potentially Garfiel would return to the village, find Subaru, the situation unfolding into one of combat— 

Otto: “—” 

I must not allow that to happen, determined Otto. 

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ 

Otto Swein is not a character abounding in physical ability. 

He had learned some degree of self-defence so that he could evade danger while travelling as a merchant, but compared to people whose lives were ones of genuine battle, he was not merely one but ten steps behind. He would never neglect to bring bodyguards when transporting valuable goods, and before when attacked by bandits while taking shortcut through the mountains, he had tearfully abandoned his luggage and fled. 

Everyone knew that he lacked the martial aptitude to brute force his way through his problems. 

Otto: “And so why am I, presently, facing him as an opponent...?” 

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Otto forces his near-stiff cheeks to give way to a grin. It was a merchant's principle to always smile during disagreements. 

Having been born into a merchant household, Otto had that precept trained into him. Although he only had about half his life, from ten years onward, in experience using it. 

Regardless, this custom was nothing to mock. If he could make himself smile, and force himself to believe that THIS BATTLE WAS MERELY ONE REQUIRING THE USUAL PERSISTENCE, he could steadily find himself accepting the stress as something comfortable. 

His arms move. His legs move. He can certainly run further. It's a mystery how he has managed to keep running across such terrible ground, and not be out of breath. The lightness of his sobered heart allows yet another unseen power of Otto's to bloom. 

Otto: “Although, it amounts to little when it's only just been realised. Self-conceit is useless, negligence is the enemy.” 

As he runs through the gaps between the forest trees, Otto urges utmost caution from his own luckless self. Garfiel, abandoned and far behind, has not found him. But that said, Otto cannot keep running away like this. His role is to pull Garfiel's attention and prevent him from returning to SANCTUARY. 

He must not let Garfiel realise that there is no necessity for him to face Otto. Otto had hidden in the forest and successively unveiled the traps he set for Garfiel. His motives for doing so in fact resulted entirely from that thought. 

Absolutely. There is no necessity for Garfiel to face Otto. The key for him to succeed in his goal of preventing SANCTUARY's liberation is to suppress Subaru and Emilia. Otto amounts to nothing more than a side. Being that Garfiel had not paid Otto any attention thus far, he must have understood that fact better than anyone. 

Up-flung leaves and a spellstone. A great swarm of winged bugs inside the carriage. With these two ostentatious, harmless traps, Otto utterly succeeded in enraging Garfiel. Garfiel had presently lost his composure, and his views narrowed to regard Otto as someone he needed to defeat. But truly, doing so carried no necessity. 

Otto: “But in saying, he'll immediately notice that if he gets the time to.” 

Thus all Otto can do about Garfiel, who is entirely dangerous to approach, is continue provoking him from a reasonable distance. With Garfiel's nose suppressed, Otto would avoid anything fatal so long as he kept out of sight. But should he be noticed, Garfiel could close the distance on Otto in an instant—the disparity of ability between them truly enormous. Indeed, this demanded a tightrope-esque stress, and caution. 

Otto: “—” 

Still hidden in the bushes, Otto peers out at the scene before him. Twenty meters ahead is Garfiel, glaring over the surroundings. His keen nose had attempted to sniff, and thanks to the kisnis oil slathered over the carriage's wheels, his sense of smell is utterly dead. His visage as he relies on his vision in his search for Otto, annoyed, exudes the wary air of a  wounded beast. 

Meddling around with this thing to draw its attention was a deed equivalent to sticking one's hand into a blazing fire, guaranteed to leave a burn, an act of idiocy. 

Otto: <Now, I'm counting on you!> ???: <aaaaiiiaaaaaaaiiiooo—> 

Otto looses a high-pitched voice. The responding cry passes through his eardrums, being converted into meaning. In accordance with Otto's signal, the forest stirs. 

Garfiel: “Eh?” 

Hearing the rustling of the swaying trees and seeming to find something awry, Garfiel looks up. Targeting his face, simultaneously launched from the surrounding trees, are the globs of dirt and dung. 

This was the threat display of these tall trees' residents, the woodmice. Their globs possessed no properties which could leave an injury, but having been attacked from all directions, Garfiel panickedly leaps away in an attempt to dodge. However, he cannot avoid all of them, with several hits muddying his legs, him clicking his tongue at the stench and clinging dirt. 

Garfiel: “Th' fuck, is! Shit! Why's this... another one of that pisshead's tricks—” 

Wiping the unclean stuff off on a nearby tree, Garfiel voices his suspicion of Otto's involvement. But halfway through voicing his doubts, he notices something, his nose scrunching. 

—Woodmice globs possess no wounding powers. They dirty clothes, entrench items in stink, and nothing more. But the stench of their dung does draw out the insects who live in the forest. 

Garfiel: “—hk!” 

Something wriggles up from underground, beneath Garfiel's feet, before bursting out of the earth and leaping at his legs, entangling them. Garfiel's breath stops. The crawler venturing up his leg is a long, black, centipede-esque insect. The centipede, long as a man's arm, crawls up to the thigh of Garfiel's dung-soiled left leg, pressing its grotesque mouth against him as it consumes the vestiges of the globs. 

Garfiel: “Fuck! Gross!” 

Brandishing his claws, Garfiel bats the centipede off him. But more and more of the creatures crawl up from the ground, leaping not only at Garfiel's legs, but fighting with each other over the globs which missed him, the scene transforming into an infernal spectacle. 

These centipedes liked the tree-fruits which were lumped in with the woodmouse dung. Having walked all through the forest with need to lay his traps, Otto had spoken with many of the creatures here, and utilized absolutely everything which could probably be useful. 

Contrary to their repulsive appearances, the centipedes were no carnivores, and not venomous in the least, but find yourself so surrounded by them and they produced more than enough of a threat. And Garfiel presently— 

Garfiel: “—hk! Augh! Y'cheeky pieces of shit!” 

—Was screaming, spit flying, as he lost his temper with the horde of centipedes. He swings his leg up high, then slamming it down to pierce the ground with all the force he can muster. 

Immediately following, in the shape of a rectangular platform with Garfiel at the centre, the earth springs into the air. 

Otto: “—” 

Witnessing the incredible sight, Otto unwittingly swallows his breath. Upon the ground Garfiel sent airborne, with the shockwave keeping the centipede horde from moving, Garfiel brandishes his claws and feet to successively claim his kills. The floating platform crashes thunderously back to the ground, the entirety of the centipede horde around Garfiel repelled, the stragglers burrowing back into the underground out of fear. 

The trees the woodmice resided in, too, were caught and felled in the detachment of the earth, the inhabitants who aided Otto now scrambling to flee. It seems they had wound up paying a rather high price in exchange for that sugar water. 

Otto: “Well, I suppose that's just another outcome of trade... or really, being that it depends on the negotiator’s abilities whether or not a business deal is a profitable deal, I'd prefer I not be resented here.” 

Having witnessed a fragment of Garfiel's strength, Otto breezily reflects on his deeds in an attempt to calm himself down. That done, he silences his footsteps as he retreats, preserving distance from the now-walking Garfiel as he leads him to the site of the next trap. 

He hadn't gone two and a half days without sleeping racing around this forest for nothing. 

—The instant that all this was over, he'd sleep so furiously he wouldn't even dream. 

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ 

???: <a big one's coming> 

—I am aware, yes, I am very aware of that. 

???: <behind you, a big one, coming soon, coming now> 

—I did tell you that I know about that, I have already fully considered it. 

???: <you'll die. you're so dead. poor guy.> 

—I would not actually mind it if you could please stop the pessimism! 

With his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY unleashed, a din of discordant noise floods into Otto's ears. These were the voices of the bugs, of the critters, of every living creature which possessed a will who lived in the forest—voices of which Otto was screening for statements relevant to himself, the peak in difficult listening. 

This was approximately twenty years since his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY manifested, and about ten years since he became proficient with it. Even with all of this time, he had never once attempted something as insane as this before. Even when he had used his blessing in an attempt to absolve himself of false charges, albeit provincial that episode had been set in a city, and there was a limit to the number of creatures living there. 

But place him in the middle of an expansive forest, and the quantity of noise for Otto to deal with far exceeded his maximum limit. In the air, in the trees, in the leaves, in the dirt, in the stone, these bugs, these critters, possessed many many dwellings. Listening to all the voices of these hidden creatures equated to over 100 human voices slamming into his brain simultaneously. 

It wasn't just hearing. The BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY demanded comprehension from Otto. Meaning that all of Otto's neural activity was expending itself on processing everything that his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY picked up. 

Otto: “Bhg...” 

A stabbing pain races through Otto's head as his body sways, him leaning against a tree. And, upon the sleeve he puts to his face to wipe away his sweat, there lands droplets of vivid red blood. A nosebleed. This blood leaking from his face was proof that his brain was acting beyond its permissible limit. His brain creaks, creaks, creaks intermittently, the buzzing tinnitus echoing in his head with no signs of alleviating. 

Otto: “Ah, I didn't know. So this is what happens when you keep using it, this blessing of mine. Entirely unmanageable... or rather said not unrepentantly convenient, leaving me in a predicament.” 

He rigorously wipes the nosebleed away, rubbing at his brow as he breaks into a faltering run. His ears yet continue to ring, but he has no intention in the least of calling off his blessing. Otto could not keep this chase going by himself. As before, voices call to inform him of Garfiel's actions. Their observations act as Otto's eyes, for he cannot glance back behind him. Otto did not know what others thought about enlisting the aid of insects and mammals, creatures which possessed wills differing from that of a human's, but it made for no easy task. 

For their thought patterns diverged from that of humanity. What would delight them, what would they hate? What was normal for Otto was outrageous for them. There was no way he could know what exactly he should use as his weapons when negotiating. 

And even among insects and mammals, the greater their intelligence, the more that personal differences formed. Members of the same species of bug would often possess entirely different stances on what they favoured and disfavoured. Otto's imperfect but successful attempt at continuously evading the threat known as Garfiel entirely resulted from him securing a short albeit definite period of preparation time, and within that time period expending every moment he had, as well as expending all his best efforts. 

—Had Subaru found Emilia yet, and was he talking with her properly? 


The time that Subaru had to speak with Emilia—It was solely for the sake of elongating this period that Otto had placed himself in this hardship. If Subaru's guess had been wrong, if things hadn't gone according to plan and no apparent progress was being made on Emilia, then everything would amount to nothing, a transient effort. 

Just why was Otto supporting Subaru to such a degree? 

During a spate of thinking done to distract himself from his pain, Otto lands on this thought. Subaru had saved his life, and Otto was helping him as repayment for that debt. That was truth. Subaru had accepted him as a friend, and sought Otto's assistance, and so Otto inevitably had to be helping him. That was also truth. 

But was Otto truly such a zealous man that, off only those bases alone, he would achieve more than what was demanded of him? 

Otto: “...Ah, I see.” 

Something slips through his mind in that moment. It is the trigger which leads him to recognize the reason. Otto can't keep himself from smiling. 

It's all very simple. Otto's reason for having faith in Subaru, and helping him, was ludicrously unprofound. 

Otto: “Giving up, thinking that no one can understand you, perplexed and troubled... it's all something that I should know better than anyone else.” 

BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY, the power to hear things which others cannot. Otto, who heard the voices of other animals and knew things he plainly should not, was considered a nuisance by many people. He lost those who were once his friends and could no longer see his family. To him, his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY lacked any utilization beyond breaking through times of emergency, otherwise a superfluous tool. 

But because of this blessing, his experience had strayed. His experiences of being excluded because of his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY taught Otto the pain of being beyond the comprehension of others. He knew how irritating it was to know something, but be unable to fully communicate it, despite giving an explanation. It conferred him the resigned frustration of, well nobody would understand it anyway. 

Everything was entirely identical to Subaru before he opened up to Otto. And so he trusted in Subaru, overlaying the image of him now with the image of Otto then, and ran. 

It's the only possibility. Otto did not only wish to save Subaru. Through him, Otto had wished to save his own past self, to save Otto Swein. 

???: “Fuckin', found—ya!!” 

Otto: “—hk!?” 

The moment he notices yet another of his truest thoughts, Otto hears a voice coming from an angle differing from his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY—for an impact to slam into his shoulders and send him tumbling across the earth. He falls to his side, the soft dirt catching him as he tumbles. 

Otto: “Bhah, ptt! Wh-what just—ghhk!” 

???: “Don't you fuckin' mess 'round with me!” 

Otto spits the leaves out of his mouth as he uprights himself, when clawtips jab into his torso. His constricted lungs wring themselves of air, another violent kick sending him flying across the ground. Up and down swap their places and swap their places messily, his head spinning, his thoughts shaky. No oxygen cycles through his brain, and the blood in his veins feels to clot, the pain transferring through his capillaries to his whole body. 

Garfiel: “Evein' sayin' my nose's dumb, my amazin' self's still got ears. Yer had some goddamn trick t'get th'bugs fuckin' whinin' on n' on... n' this's th'end of that.” 

Otto: “Y-You really must wonder. ..You cannot say you have won yet, just by catching up with ghgahuh” 

Garfiel: “Shut yer backtalk. Yer sure put in a good fuckin' effort... but my amazin' self ain't got th'room t'waste any more time.” 

Garfiel sets his foot on Otto's chest, applying considerable pressure. Creak, go Otto's ribs. Supposedly-petite Garfiel applies more force than his actual body weight, Otto shrieking as his limbs flap uselessly. 

Garfiel: “My amazin' self steps on yer with all I got, n' yer gonna be smithereens. Bet yer fuckin' saw me have the ground launch int'r th'air. Th'same shit 's that is gonna be happenin' t'yer body. Wanna try it?” 

Otto: “—Sorry, but I'd rather not.” 

Garfiel gazes down, expression intimidating. Otto's words come paired with the smile of a poor loser, the attitude leading Garfiel to pale. But, 

Garfiel: “Well fuckin' ain't you makin' a face like you got some fuckin' guts. I'd seen that 'fore this fight started, n' we woulnna needed t'have this goddamn runaround.” 

Otto: “...” 

Praise, or something close to it does lace Garfiel's words. Otto turns his head as he slips a slight sigh. His thin, strained exhales continue as Garfiel narrows his eyes. 

Garfiel: “'F this were all it was, then yer thing ain't nothin' big. 'S how I would overlook it...” 

Otto: “—” 

Garfiel: “But th'second yer got fiesty, the whole fucking forest turned against me. Even at th'start where yer threw up th'leaves, the fuckin' bugs under them all flew at me. N' in th'carriage, n' with th'mouse shit, n' th'centipedes, n' th'snakes springin' from th'trees, n' th'birds who led me into a fuckin' field of poison flowers, there has t'be some reason fer allerit.” 

Indeed, all of these snares were traps that Otto had set while sprinting around the forest. Means to whittle away at Garfiel's energy, and buy time. None of them misfired, and all succeeded in drawing Garfiel toward him. But Garfiel had deemed these multiple natural wonders, inconceivable as coincidence, as all being Otto's doing. He had noticed that Otto was the reason behind it all. 

Garfiel: “Thinkin' ain't my strong suit, but that yer think anyway's what yer call livin'. N' so I thought. Thought, thought, thought, n' here's what I got. Big majority 'v th'inexplicable crap that happens in this world, 's 'cause a blessing's involved. —Yer got one 'v those fuckin' blessings too.” 

Otto: “...Hu.” 

Garfiel: “'S Blessing of th'Forest, or Blessing of Dirt, or fuckin' whatever, but sayin' y'got one then it ain't weird fer this t'be happenin'. Yer ain't givin' any carelessness 'r mercy, throwin' out everythin' yer need t'sort this out. ...And so.” 

Striking the silent Otto with words, Garfiel leaves him to tremble, kicked, as he glances behind him. His sharp eyes narrow in pity. 

Garfiel: “Don't think I ain't noticed what yer plannin', with those poor quitter eyes'er yers.” 

Otto: “—” 

Garfiel's gaze lands on an open clearing, where there is gathered a mass of white light. Sunlight spilling through the foliage—is absolutely not what this multicoloured lights is, it instead being a mass of mana so thick that it is visible to the naked eye. 

Witnessing a swelling of mana so dense that one would be apt to find themselves a raucous drunk should they carelessly bound into it, Garfiel scrunches his face and looks down at Otto. 

Garfiel: “That's yer ace. It ain't like th'empty threats yer had goin' so far. There's something about that thing which's got th'something t'overpower my amazin' self. ...'F yer'd manage t'keep me stuck n' a bind, yer might'a been able t'push me into it.” 

Otto: “...auh, euh” 

Squatting down, Garfiel lifts the groaning Otto by the collar. Blood from his overworked brain again streams out Otto's nostrils, dyeing the bottom half of his face in grisly sanguine. Garfiel turns his head away. 

Garfiel: “Yer did great, but yer ain't ever gettin' on my level. Shouldda known yer place, n' behaved.” 

Otto: “My, place, you say....” 

Garfiel: “Yeah. Yer ain't got any chance'v beatin' my amazin' self. —Couldn't give a crap whatever trap that thing is, but we'll have you b'th'one t'taste it.” 

With that line, Garfiel throws Otto gently. Following an incredibly brief feeling of flying through the air, Otto fails to catch himself as he tumbles across the ground, hurtling into the hive of dense, white mana. 

Amid a smog of cloying mana, his head, already dullish in peaceable times, is contaminated. His eyes spin, his tongue numbs, his nosebleed streams without end. 

Trap. The final trap. Flung into it, and now, there was something, happening. 

Garfiel: “I'll watch 'till 's over.” 

Crossing his arms, Garfiel waits for the fallen Otto's end. Prone, and capturing that sight in the corner of his vision, Otto strings together his scattered thoughts: where is here? What does he have to do? And he recognizes. 

—His final trap's fruition. Otto: “...Do you mind if I ask you something?” Garfiel: “Eh?” Putting his hand to the ground, Otto frantically uprights himself. 

Garfiel's eyes shoot open in shock, not having conceived that Otto could still move. Witnessing Garfiel's surprise makes for a satisfying feeling. Indeed, Subaru's statements were correct. To succeed in the deeds of which others believed you incapable was entertaining. It truly was. Unkind, but this delight shows no signs of stopping. 

Otto: “In getting here, Garfiel-san.. how many trees have you felled, and how much earth have you gouged open?” 

Garfiel: “I ain't got any clue what yer tryin' t'say.” Otto: “The greatness of the quantity of mana stockpiled here where I am... is because that is how greatly you have angered the forest, that is what it means.” 

The sense of achievement leads Otto to forget his pain and fatigue. 

A firmness comes to his precarious speech, Otto seating himself on the ground as he looks at Garfiel. Garfiel uncrosses his arms, finally realising that he has acted just as Otto planned, making an attempt to move— Too slow. 

Otto: “—Al Dona.” 

The abounding mana transmits through the whole of Otto, taking shape in the world by means of a canto. 

—The overwhelming speed and force of the coursing wave of earth batters the whole of the slow Garfiel, sending him plummeting far beyond the edge of the forest. 

※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ 

Otto: “Haah... haaah... haauh...” 

His arms aloft and shaking, Otto breathes breaths so languorous they could be bloody, one after another. 

He had invested all of the ambient mana into that magic, exhausting it. The sensation of mana drunkenness has faded, fatigue taking its place, his body pained and aching. 

—The final trap Otto laid was a simple thing, connecting all the various traps thus far. 

With the primary assumption that he would secure the cooperation of the forest's insects and critters, he would propose that everyone punish the enemies who hurt this woodland. 

It seems that Garfiel swaggered around the forest on the daily, and dear oh dear, how audacious his behaviour must have appeared for the animals of the woods. Cutting down shrubs to sharpen his claws and build his muscles, even gathering the firewood needed for daily living—taken from a wider perspective, these were acts of destruction upon the animals' home. These nefarious deeds had piled up, and now quite sadly, the majority of the forest's wildlife considered Garfiel a big, strong, bad guy. 

Otto had negotiated with the wildlife, requesting that they assist him in punishing Garfiel. He then laid numerous traps, and alongside their activation, Garfiel inflicted even further destruction upon the forest. The woodland's residents concentrated their mana all in one location, promising to lend Otto their greatest strength. 

A concentration of mana so vast as to be visible is AN OBVIOUS TRAP. Having tripped so many traps and now become attuned to them, Garfiel avoided this one, and flung Otto into it. 

Meaning that he inadvertently aided Otto in borrowing the aid of the forest, and let him utilize greater magic than he actually possessed. 

The resultant wave of dirt thus slammed into Garfiel, inflicting decisive damage upon his previously-undamaged self. Garfiel's negligence, thinking that Otto lacked the strength to oppose him, had helped spur this. 

Everything had gone as Otto planned. Meaning, Otto: “This time for sure...” ???: “—Yer out of moves.” 

Otto gives a despondent sigh. Garfiel's figure appears from between the trees, glaring at Otto. His clothes are torn, his bare skin flecked with cuts from sharp stones. But his head's important places appear to have been guarded, with little obvious impact evident in his gait, either. 

The pure disparity in power had far transcended Otto's imaginings. Garfiel: “Honestly, I'm damn surprised.” Otto: “...Are you, now.” Garfiel: “Really, I didn't think you'd be able t'do this much. Hell, forget that, I looked down on ya,  thinkin' yer'd give up. —F'give me. My amazin' self pulled some stupid shit when dealin' with a  man.” Says Garfiel, his expression meek. Otto shakes his head, not needing the apology. The only thing he wanted to hear was: I concede. But despite Otto doing his everything and fulfilling his role perfectly, he had not managed to topple Garfiel. 

Thus here is where Otto's resistance ends. Garfiel feels his hands, flashes his sharp claws. Otto would be shown no mercy this time. 

—Had he done everything he could? He keenly felt that he had played every card he had. Including his BLESSING OF XENOGLOSSY, friendship, negotiation, he had used everything to full. 

If he nevertheless failed to achieve it, then there was simply nothing he could do. Otto's capabilities ended here. And so. Garfiel: “See ya. —When yer wake up, clean up this mess.” Otto: “Let's call my individual fight as ended here...” Garfiel: “—” 

With that breathy mutter, Otto closes his eyes, exhausted. The attitude far seemed to lack the resolution required to surrender, and— 

Garfiel: “No way...” 

Garfiel shudders, questioning if there's still more, the hair down his body standing on end as he warily glances around the area. There are no signs of anything from any direction. If there is to be more, then it— 

Garfiel: “—hk!” 

Baring his fangs, Garfiel directs his claws upwards. He takes a breath, his lungs expanding so he may howl. But this produces a delay. He opens his eyes wide, his mouth bellowing with no roar. What he yells is no bloodlust, no hostility, but a name. 

???: “GARF!!” 

A silhouette leaps from the treetops overhead, on descent toward him. Their short skirt flutters, the point of their wand fixes its aim on Garfiel's head. 

Mana congregates at the tip of their wand, light emanating, Garfiel screaming as he watches on. 

Garfiel: “Why the fuck are you... RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!” 

The blade of wind bursts the next instant, butchering SANCTUARY's forest to shreds.





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