Strike the Blood - Volume 8 - Chapter 3.1

Intermission iii 

The children—Kojou Akatsuki, bound by chains; and Asagi Aiba, similarly tied to her chair—were asleep. Yukina Himeragi was kneeling atop the carpet in proper Japanese style, her eyes closed as if in meditation, still gripping her silver spear. 

It was red outside the iron-barred window. This, the rust-red space filled with the scent of dried blood, was the Prison Barrier proper, the otherworld constructed in Natsuki Minamiya’s dream. 

“…nn!” 

From time to time, Kojou Akatsuki’s face contorted in apparent anguish as he continued to slumber. He was reexperiencing his own past, as if for the first time, in the form of a dream, a ritual using No. 014, the grimoire for manipulating personal history. 

A grimoire that could rob another person of the time he or she had experienced sounded like a very convenient thing, but the price one had to pay for it was comparatively high, for it also meant accepting the mental pain and suffering the other person had undergone. That went even more for psychological wounds experienced in the past by one’s own former self. 

“…” 

Natsuki seemed bored of watching her pupils dream as she shifted her gaze to the magic circle at her feet. 

The symbols inscribed on the dark orange carpet were imbued with a faint magical glow, pulsing eerily. Yukina had explained the magic circle was there to protect Kojou and Asagi if Kojou’s demonic energy ran amok, but that was actually nothing more than a convenient side effect. 

Natsuki had constructed the magic circle with a different objective in mind. 

There was a memory that Kojou Akatsuki had not experienced until the very end of the time concerned—knowledge of an “Avrora” unknown to him. Obtaining this was Natsuki’s true objective. 

She had taken the code written inside the grimoire, fusing it with a high-level ritual. And the vast demonic power of Kojou Akatsuki, the Fourth Primogenitor, was the driving force behind the ritual. Employing the same logic as using a giant particle accelerator to analyze subatomic particles, the vestiges left of “her” upon the sediments of time would be dredged up by brute force. 

Finally, her faint image floated up before Natsuki’s eyes. Her form was not completely stable, perhaps due to data degradation. Even so, her contours were clear. She had blond hair like billowing fire, and blue eyes that glimmered like flame. She was a small-statured girl with fairylike features. 

“…Who…art thou?” The vague silhouette opened her mouth. Her voice was mixed with white noise, making it difficult to hear. 

“I believe this is the first time we have met face-to-face, Root Avrora—” 

The girl slowly smiled as Natsuki addressed her. Her face seemed pleased, as if to say that she finally remembered who she was. 

“A witch. The Witch of the Void, contracted to the Golden Devil… Hmm.” 

She gazed at her own indistinct hands and murmured: 

“What is this body?” 

“A spiritual remnant given form. You are essentially a ghost.” 

“Thou wouldst speak with the dead, witch?” the girl inquired with a tone of disdain. 

“This is inside my dream. It has more than a few conveniences.” 

Natsuki gave an apathetic reply as she opened the fan in her right hand; a moment later, countless chains spewed forth from thin air, lightly grazing the girl’s flesh as they enveloped her. 

She was like a helpless butterfly trapped in a spider’s web. Or, perhaps a marionette animated by chains. 

“What dost thou seek with me?” 

The blond girl was trapped, unable to move, yet her inquiry seemed amused even so. 

“There is something I want to ask you.” 

“And that is?” 

“It concerns you. Artificial primogenitor, for what purpose were you constructed?” 

“I am a weapon. I am nothing more, nothing less. Would you ask the spent bullets abandoned on the battlefield why they were constructed, Witch of the Void?” 

The girl followed up her evasive answer to Natsuki with a laugh that made her indistinct contours waver. 

“Then let me change the question. Root Avrora—what is The Cleansing?” 

Natsuki quietly posed the question. It was as if those words were a key, for the air given off by the blond girl shifted. The magic circle at her feet grew brighter as her blond hair floated and danced into the air. 

“Hee…hee-hee…hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

The girl’s beautiful lips contorted with laughter. It was as if she was mocking, scorning, cursing the whole world. 

“I see, Root…you are…!” Natsuki’s doll-like facial features scowled as she murmured. 

The chains enveloping the girl broke away one by one. The magic circle glowed even brighter, enough that one could scarcely look at it directly, as the overflowing demonic energy began to warp the world around them. 

The girl’s cackling, full of resentment, resounded throughout the Prison Barrier. 

The dead spirit’s laughter continued to echo, on and on—