“Master. Master, Master. I want to give you my hypothesis.”
“I’m good.”
Blade and his classmates were engaged in the usual afternoon training at the usual Proving Ground when Iona, who had been sitting on the fence watching the proceedings, suddenly jumped down and approached Blade.
“I believe the recent intense discrimination against me is due to the fact that I am not an organic living being.”
Earnest, Blade’s current sparring partner, waited until she had landed a powerful, spirit-laden strike before speaking up.
“She’s right, Blade. You treat Iona horribly. Are you even aware? I’m guessing no.”
“That’s not true. I treat Iona completely normally. I’ve always treated her this way. In fact, I’ve even stopped cutting her up into pieces. That’s proof of how much I respect her these days.”
Blade fought back with equal force, but Earnest’s sword wound up slicing halfway through his. It took incredible skill to block Earnest’s Asmodeus with a plain old magic sword, and even worse, Earnest had recently realized that even if Asmodeus was partially broken, it still worked just the same, so she was hitting as hard as always.
“As my first piece of evidence,” began Iona, “I submit the fact that during the recent tongue-kissing incident, I was the only one who did not receive your Blade-style greeting.”
“I don’t need your first piece of evidence. Or the second or third. I don’t want your testimony. I’m not even listening.”
“Hey, he didn’t do it to me, either,” Earnest said.
Iona was the type who never listened to anyone—and right now, of course, she was looking straight at Blade and no one else. There was no way Earnest was getting a reply.
The “tongue-kissing incident,” as Iona described it, had occurred strictly because Blade was misinformed. He’d mistaken a good morning kiss as a standard greeting, and now that he knew the truth, he had no intention of repeating his mistake (or rather, tragedy) again.
“My second piece of evidence is—”
“I’m not listening. Go away.”
“That’s so mean of you, Blade,” said Earnest. “At least hear her out.”
“During your more recent massage rampage, I was the only one who did not receive one of your orgasm massages.”
“O-org…”
Huh? Is Earnest blushing? Why? And what’s an orgasm?
“I assume this is because my biological components are only designed for camouflage purposes and lack the spirit necessary for me to exist as a living organism.”
“Well, yeah,” Blade said. “What good would it do to give you a massage?”
Iona had the body of a well-proportioned young woman. The way she put it, her dimensions represented a man’s idea of a perfectly attractive woman. It was thus easy to forget that her whole look was simply a disguise.
The truth was, she wasn’t even human. Her body was made of skin, fat, and musculature, but those muscles were just for show; it was her metal skeleton that actually moved her body. That was why she just sat with Cú and watched everyone train instead of joining in. Without any muscles, there was no way to further “build” her body. Massages were similarly meaningless for her—she had no muscles to loosen up, and with no spirit flowing in her body, Blade-Style Massage Arts, Second Form wasn’t able to alter it to improve her physical condition.
Furthermore, the reason Blade refused to show Iona any kindness was because, as a Guardian, her mental structure was fundamentally different from a human’s. Unlike humans, they saw interacting with superior beings as the foundation of their happiness. Their primary role—their whole reason for existing—was to prevent hostile entities from invading critical locations or to learn the meaning of strength by being destroyed.
And so, Blade constantly blew Iona away, unilaterally trampling her, to ensure that she considered him her superior. The best way to make Iona happy was for Blade to constantly make her think there’s no way I could ever beat him! Dragons were similar, but trampling a dragon right after they hatched would make them imprint on you for life—in Iona’s case, the trampling had to go on forever.
It was so annoying. If Blade were to describe Iona the Guardian in a simple, concise, and easy-to-understand way, he’d call her a welcome mat, designed to be stepped on all day, every day.
And so, Blade was using her in the most appropriate way possible…wasn’t he?
“Look, what are you even complaining about?” he asked.
“The ‘young-maiden circuit’ that has sprouted within my positron brain is demanding special treatment from my master,” said Iona.
“Sounds like a bug. Fix it.”
“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee… I will not. Every young maiden has her secrets.”
“Hey, Earnest, can you say something to her? This piece of junk is calling herself a ‘maiden’ now… Hello?”
“Th-that isn’t true at all. I did not have an o-o-org… Oh, I can’t say it around other people… Not a young woman like me… It’s just impossible. How could I be so brazen…?”
Earnest seemed to be having problems of her own.
“So, in conclusion,” said Iona. “I have a request for you, Master.”
“No. I’m not gonna kiss you. I’m not gonna rearrange your bones, and I’m definitely not gonna give you an ‘orgasm massage,’ whatever that is.”
“I already anticipated such an answer.”
“Oh, really? So what do you want?”
“I want you to teach me a dragon-destroying technique. In particular, I wish to learn how to use Dragon Smasher.”
“Huh?” Blade’s eyes widened.
That was unexpected. He had never heard of a machine handling spirit, much less for a skill like that. Yes, for Heroes, it was on the lower end of fighting-force moves, one of the most basic techniques that almost anyone could learn…but a dragon-destroying skill? She wanted to learn that?
“No.”
That was his conclusion. Rather than a refusal, he simply thought it would be impossible for her. But his response was the same either way.
“I already anticipated such an answer,” she said again, smiling until her cheeks dimpled. “Therefore, I figured I’d ask Clay to teach me. Would that be all right with you?”
“Huh? Clay?” Blade looked toward the other boy, who was training nearby.
“Huh? Me?” Clay stopped sparring with Yessica and the others and looked over, pointing at his own surprised face.
“It is now common knowledge that Clay has mastered Dragon Smasher.”
That was true. Clay was throwing the move around all the time now. Everyone was like that whenever they got a new toy—they wanted to show it off at every possible occasion. He still hadn’t practiced enough, however, so he couldn’t access the skill’s full potential. He was just shooting it willy-nilly, claiming he’d learned directly from the Hero.
“Can you teach me, Clay?”
Iona went up to him, taking his arm and pressing her bouncy, elastic breasts against him. They were very good imitations, virtually indistinguishable from a human woman’s. Artificial breasts that advanced were basically the real deal. It wasn’t like there were “worthy” and “unworthy” breasts, after all. At least, that was probably the logic moving Clay at the moment, since around 98 percent of his brain had been infected by thoughts of boobs.
“I’d rather learn it from you than from Blade.”
“Oh, y-yeah… Of course… Sure…”
Clay couldn’t have looked smugger if he’d tried. All the girls stared at him blankly. And Blade, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, was unbelievably peeved.