Final Chapter
Just Who Is This Mysterious Badass?!
Until she saw that beautiful arc, Rose had been prepared to die. If she was captured and turned into a pawn, her father’s death would have been in vain. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
Death is petrifying.
However, it was the only option she had left. She’d been allowed her indulgences as a princess, but she still intended to carry out her royal duties.
This was to be her final task.
She’d been prepared for that.
“Y-you’re…”
However, the instant she sees that boy beautifully cleave through everything, she’s reminded of a memory from her childhood.
“The time for lies is over…”
And with that, Mundane rips off his face.
The crowd stirs.
Beneath Mundane’s skin sits an all-too-familiar mask.
Black liquid swirls and spirals around him.
When the spiral subsides, it leaves a man wearing a jet-black long coat in its wake.
“Shadow…,” someone murmurs.
But to Rose, he isn’t Shadow.
He’s the man who made her want to take up the sword. The one whose blade embodies beauty.
“Shadow, are you…? Are you the Slayer?”
The memories flash through Rose’s mind.
Once, long ago, Rose was kidnapped.
Her father had official business to attend to in Midgar, and she’d secretly snuck out of their inn to play outside. As she was playing with the commoner kids, though, everything suddenly went black.
Then, she passed out.
When she came to her senses, she found herself confined in a small, dark room.
Her hands and legs were bound with rope, and there was a gag stuffed in her mouth.
Although she was outwardly free of injury, her body trembled from worry and fear.
She could hear bandits talking in the room next door. “Man, I knew her clothes looked nice, but we got us the princess here!”
They’d probably figured it out from her personal effects. Now they knew who she was.
“You did it again, boss! We hit the jackpot!”
“This wasn’t luck, dumbass! This was all skill!!”
Crude laughter echoed out.
Terrified for her safety, Rose fell into despair. The bandits had two options: They could either use her as a hostage to bargain with Oriana, or they could sell her to someone who knew what she was worth.
She was certain they’d pick the latter. Although she was valuable as a hostage, mere bandits would be hard-pressed to use her right.
By selling her, they could make some easy gold. Then, she would end up falling into the hands of political enemies…
That prospect terrified her.
She twisted her body to try and undo the ropes.
She shouted through her gag.
But her efforts were for nothing.
“Hey, sounds like the princess is up.”
“Go check on her, then.”
She could hear footsteps drawing closer. Her muffled shouts turned to screams as tears began running down her cheeks.
But just as the door was about to open…
“Yahoo!! Gimme all your money!!”
She heard a child’s voice saying some rather unchildish things.
“Wh-who the hell is this kid?!”
“He just showed up outta nowhere! Kill his ass!!”
“C’mere, you!!”
Something made a sound as if it had sliced through the air.
A scream rang out.
“Wh-who the hell is this?! He’s too strong!!”
“What?! He took out three people at once?!”
“You guys can help me practice my fancy swordplay.”
Something ripped through the air again.
Rose could smell blood. She timidly peeked through the crack in the door.
Outside, there was a boy wearing a sack over his head and a group of bandits fleeing.
“If you run, you’re just bandits! But if you don’t, that means you’re trained bandits!!”
“Ah, ahhhhh!”
“P-please—!!”
The sack-clad boy swung his sword.
“…?!”
The arc was so beautiful that Rose forgot what was going on and simply stared at it.
She didn’t know much about swords, but that technique…was far more beautiful than any work of art.
The blade sliced skillfully through the bandits’ necks, and the screaming stopped.
Dumbfounded, Rose just gazed at the boy with the sack.
“Man, I came all the way out here, and they don’t have any gold. Huh? Oh, there’s more of them.”
Noticing Rose’s gaze, the boy in the sack opened up the door.
Light streamed into the room as their eyes met.
“Ah, a kidnapped kid. Rough day for you, huh?”
The sack boy swung his sword. Rose was captivated by the elegance of his sword work.
“Bye now. Take care on your way home.”
The sack boy began briskly walking off.
Before she noticed, Rose’s bindings had been cut.
She called out to him in desperation. “W-wait!”
“Hmm?” The boy stopped and turned back toward her.
“Wh-who are you?”
“Me? Hmm. I’m still in the middle of my training, so…just think of me as a fancy bandit slayer who happened to pass by.”
“The Fancy Bandit Slayer… Um, I want to thank you somehow.”
“Uh… All right, well, then I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about me.”
“O-okay, I won’t.”
“Cool, I’m counting on ya.”
And with that, the Fancy Bandit Slayer vanished.
“The Fancy Bandit Slayer…”
He had saved her from the depths of despair and, in doing so, changed her very life. Out of admiration for the beauty of his swordplay and the way he lived his life, Rose took up the sword that very day.
It’s a precious memory of her childhood, one that she’s never told anyone. It’s Rose’s little secret.
In that moment, though, she gives voice to that secret for the first time.
“Shadow…you’re the Fancy Bandit Slayer, aren’t you?”
Shadow doesn’t answer.
But to Rose, his silence is answer enough.
Ever since he was a child, he’s fought tirelessly against evil. He’s been saving people behind the scenes this whole time, just like he once saved Rose.
Shadow’s words run through Rose’s mind. If true strength comes not from power but from the way one lives their life…then Shadow must be strength incarnate.
Rose feels ashamed at having chosen death so readily.
She could still have fought, but living is painful, and failure is terrifying. She wanted to put an end to it all.
She had sought refuge in death.
But she could still fight…because she admired his beautiful swordplay and his way of life.
“Your battle is yet unfinished…” Shadow thrusts his jet-black sword forward.
It impales the stadium’s wall and creates a large hole.
“Go…”
“Got it!”
Rose scoops up her rapier and leaps without hesitation through the opening. She still has things she needs to do.
“S-stop her!!”
“No one else goes through…”
Shadow plants himself in front of the hole.
Thick clouds roll in at some point and obscure the sun, blanketing the stadium in shadows.
Thunderclaps echo within the clouds.
Drop by drop, rain begins to fall.
“What are you waiting for?! After her!!” bellows Perv, and his men burst into action.
They move to surround the hole’s guard, Shadow, then leap at him in unison.
The moment they do, an obsidian arc cleaves through them.
A single blow is all it takes to send all of Perv’s handpicked dark knights flying.
“This can’t…”
So this is Shadow. True to the rumors Perv heard, he cannot be contained by the riffraff.
He presses down on his bleeding gut and falls back.
“H-help! Is there anyone?! Anyone who can take him down?!” he cries.
The only response he hears is the sound of the rain.
The knights of Midgar surround Shadow from a distance, but that’s all.
There isn’t a single person present who plans on making light of the man who defeated Iris.
The rain is now a bona fide deluge. Massive droplets cascade from the skies.
The lightning reflects off Shadow’s drenched long coat.
Each time it strikes, his figure is illuminated amid the gloom.
“I will go.”
As the gray-robed woman speaks, she leaps into the air.
She casts her robe off while airborne and lands with her longsword drawn.
“Beatrix the War Goddess…,” someone murmurs.
The beautiful blond elf readies her blade in the rain.
She’s wearing nothing more than a loincloth and a breastplate, and the lightning makes her pale, drenched skin flash.
Shadow and Beatrix silently gauge the distance between themselves as they square off.
A violent thunderclap underscores the commencement of their battle.
Shadow stretches out his obsidian katana to match Beatrix’s longsword.
He slashes.
His black blade cleaves through the air.
The rain parts.
For a brief instant, a trail of empty, rainless air follows in his sword’s wake.
He misses.
“Oh…?”
Beatrix reacts instantly by taking a half step back to dodge Shadow’s strike.
Then, she counters. Her deadly thrust bears down on Shadow.
Beneath his mask, Shadow grins.
He evades the attack by leaning to the side, then swings his sword as he pulls back upright.
But she recovers quickly, too.
As she retracts her longsword, she stoops low to avoid Shadow’s blow.
Then, she counters once more.
The only thing either of them hits is the rain.
Slashes fly through the air, each rending a path through the downpour.
The droplets spread in little splashes as they’re sliced aside, casting beautiful streaks as the lightning illuminates them.
Everyone in the stands holds their breath as they watch the battle unfold.
It’s like watching a dance.
The rain and the lightning leave etchings in the sky of a battle that no normal eyes can follow.
It’s a beautiful sword dance.
It’s plain to see that the two combatants stand at the apex of swordsmanship.
The spectators want the dance to last forever, but Shadow brings it to an end.
“It seems this sword cannot reach you…”
He puts some distance between them, then stares at Beatrix.
Beatrix doesn’t chase him down, instead choosing to steady her breathing. Her chest heaves up and down.
“Incredible…” She lets out the word of admiration as one would a sigh.
Her blue eyes are fixed on Shadow. For a moment, they just stare at each other.
“Allow me to show you my true blade.”
With that, Shadow returns his black sword to its original length.
This is his preferred distance.
“Here I come.”
As soon as he speaks, he instantly steps forward.
The field between them vanishes.
“…?!”
Then the impact.
The moment he closes the gap, Beatrix immediately abandons attacking and shifts all her focus to defense. However, she can’t even see his sword.
It’s not just her. Nobody can.
And his assault doesn’t cut so much as a single raindrop.
“—Rgh!!”
The impact sends her flying, and she collapses in the rain.
She can’t see the blow but manages to block it on instinct alone. But only barely. She ends up sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, unable to mount a counterattack.
She promptly rises to her feet, preparing herself to pursue.
The thunder roars, and as the lightning flashes, Shadow disappears.
In that one instant, he’s right in front of her again.
He swings his imperceptible blade.
Beatrix focuses every cell in her body on Shadow’s sword, then finds herself besieged again.
“—!!”
She can’t see it.
Ignoring the mud caked on her face, she stands back up and leaps away to put some distance between them.
Instinct and luck are the only things that let her narrowly deflect the strike.
She has no reason to believe she can fend off the next one.
No follow-up comes.
As she looks at Shadow readying his blade beneath the lightning, she thinks, Why can’t I see it?
It’s not just that he’s fast. There’s something off about his sword.
After searching her memories of a lifetime of battles, she finds the answer.
Shadow’s techniques are natural.
Of the many types of swordplay in battle, fast swords are certainly menacing. However, even a quick swing starts with some preliminary action. Even if it doesn’t, you can still tell when the attack will land with enough experience. As long as you’re conscious, you can react to it.
No, the most dangerous type of attack is the kind that comes from outside your perception. It doesn’t need to be fast. You just need to be unaware of it.
And Shadow’s performance is natural.
There’s no bloodlust, no hesitation, no swagger. His swings are just…natural.
And people can’t pick them out.
Just like she isn’t actively conscious of the individual raindrops falling, she isn’t cognizant of Shadow’s sword.
“Incredible…”
Beatrix regards the depth of Shadow’s mastery with utter admiration. His skill lies at the bottom of an abyss nobody else can reach.
She prepares herself for her inevitable defeat.
“Show me your fangs, War Goddess…” Shadow brandishes his ebony blade.
Beatrix knows she can’t block it.
“Wait.” A clear voice interrupts their battle. “I, too, will join the fray.”
Iris stands there with her sword drawn.
“Princess Iris…”
Beatrix looks at Iris as though she wants to say something.
“I know. I know I’m not strong enough…” Iris smiles to hide her frustration. “But I won’t back down. I’m not going to stand by and let him flee after laying waste to the Bushin Festival. I have my pride, and so does Midgar…”
She glares at Shadow.
“I’ll stop him from moving, even if it costs me my life. When I do, Beatrix, use that to bring him down.”
“…Understood. I’ll follow your lead.”
Beatrix sympathizes with Iris’s resolve.
Fire burns in their eyes as they square off against Shadow.
“Come, then… Show me your fangs.” Shadow lowers the tip of his sword and assumes a defensive posture.
As Iris waits for an opportunity, she slowly closes the gap.
For a little while, the only sounds are the rain and the thunder.
“Please let me land a blow.”
A massive thunderclap rings out, and Iris makes her move.
She charges forward, aiming for Shadow’s neck with her longsword.
However, all it takes for Shadow to escape her range is to take a half step backward. He watches the attack miss and turns his attention to Iris’s next move.
But Iris’s sword extends.
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