However, these weren’t supposed to both come at the exact same time. These factors that, while not fatal on their own, are coming together…all in the worst way possible. “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” “Soujirou! Soujirou! Soujirou!” Even from a distance just barely close enough for his voice to reach him, Rosclay could clearly see Soujirou’s twisted smile. “All right… Let’s do this, huh?” Match ten. Soujirou the Willow-Sword versus Rosclay the Absolute. <I was never attempting to assassinate Master Rosclay to begin with.> Jelky the Swift Ink listened to the Gray-Haired Child’s voice with his consciousness hazy from exhaustion and shock. Rosclay had been perfect. He even managed to defend himself from unavoidable traps laid out in his path. That was how it was supposed to have been. <This isn’t a threat. In order for our negotiated consensus to be effective, we couldn’t attack Rosclay through any dishonest means, and had to use some method that left you no room for fabrication or lies, no matter how you tried to control information.> Rosclay the Absolute had truly responded perfectly to all the traps set in the old town plaza. He should have ensured his safety, guided the citizens, and left. However, Rosclay’s whole reason for personally guiding the throng was because they had gathered together out of a desire to see his match against Soujirou. Right at that point, Soujirou himself went and showed up, too. Now, the only option was to start the match. <There’s no room for any foul play. The exact thing Master Rosclay wished for himself is happening exactly as scheduled, nothing more.> “What do you want?” Jelky decided to bend without a second thought. If he didn’t admit defeat here, Rosclay would be beaten. Defending the symbol Rosclay stood for was far and away more important than saving his own worthless pride. <…The first part of my proposal is a revision to a part of the slave law. Due to the vagueness around the current law’s definitions and punishments, in regard to the hotbed of illegal work—monstrous race slavery—I would like to clarify how they are handled, and legalize their trade among the citizenry. By opening up legal markets, along with curbing the slave trade of other races through labeling them as handled “as monstrous races,” as well as monstrous race slave dealings done by criminal organizations, it will guarantee a laborer population throughout your territory. Also, we would like to offer reconstruction support for the damages caused by self-proclaimed demon king Alus’s attack and this series of military coups. Our government shall loan resources to Aureatia including funds and labor, and donate some as well. I look forward to hearing a positive response regarding these two proposed policies—now, while I have answered your question, there is one important point to add.> Before Jelky could think over his reply, the voice on the other end of the radzio smoothly continued. <Let me stress that this is not a threat. We will not save Master Rosclay in exchange for your acceptance of our demands, nor do we possess any means to stop Soujirou on our end. Please consider our proposals as simple negotiations aimed toward after the results of this match.> “Wh-what—” Jelky’s breath caught in his throat. Jelky’s throat trembled not out of unrest, but purely from exhaustion. “What are trying to do here?! You didn’t set up this grand scheme to negotiate?! All to get a political victory for your nation in spite of your defeat in the Sixways Exhibition…?! If this isn’t a threat, then what the hell is it supposed to be?!” <It’s a campaign pledge.> Despite unmistakably being the voice of a young boy, there was a terrifying, weighty pressure to his tone. From the moment that Aureatia refused to accept the Gray-Haired Child, Aureatia was no longer the man’s ally. They were nothing more than an offering to ensure his allies’ victory. <It wasn’t me. You were the ones who publicly promised a match. You lied too much to your citizens. That the destruction of the New Principality of Lithia wasn’t a result of war, that the Order is exploiting the underclass, that the Sixways Exhibition is a fair and aboveboard fight to decide on the hero—Master Jelky the Swift Ink. There’s one other area where you have an error in your perception.> All for something as trivial as that? Jelky couldn’t incredulously question if he truly was doing this out of a sincerity toward a citizenry of a completely different nation. The Gray-Haired Child understood. <I certainly haven’t been intermingling with the people of Aureatia all in preparation for today. I built up many day-to-day interactions and intercommunication, while you hide a large amount of information from the people. As a result… Each and every person among them believed the rumors we told more than what you publicly announced.> He was nothing but a monster, as far removed from the people as he possible could be. So why then, why did he understand? <Trust is what’s stronger than anything else.> Rosclay muttered as he remained standing atop the shut-down fountain. “Master Krafnir. I ask you to ensure the safety on the outside of the venue. There may be someone who tries to make a move while all the focus is gathered on Soujirou the Willow-Sword.” “…I’D MUCH RATHER DO THAT SORT OF WORK. GIVEN MY POSITION, I DON’T WANT TO ANTAGONIZE A HERO CANDIDATE.” Soujirou—death in minian form—was closing in. All around him, the people pulled back like an ebbing tide, creating a strange blank space right in the middle of the old town plaza. While there wasn’t any boundary line, no one else made any attempt to fill in the arena-like area. Everyone was anticipating it. A match between Aureatia’s strongest swordsman, and the almighty swordsman from the Beyond. “You’re Rosclay, yeah?” “That’s right. It’s a pleasure to meet you… Why are you here?” Herein lied the Rosclay’s biggest question. The Gray-Haired Child most likely had floated a rumor several days ahead of the tenth match and resolved to lure Rosclay here to the old town plaza. However, where were the means to convey such a decision? This definitely wasn’t a coincidental encounter. There was a considerable distance between here and Romog Joint Military Hospital. Since he only had one leg and couldn’t utilize any sort of carriage, it would have been physically impossible for him to get here in time unless he made straight for the plaza upon his escape. “Not sure you’d really get it even if I explain, to be honest.” Soujirou idly looked up to Rosclay. “I’ll try my best to understand.” “Sure… I know this girl, Yuno, see. A while back, she did the same type of thing. Used her arrowheads to mark things, make signals for me, so… I was only able to get here ’cause whenever I was about to get lost, I’d see one of the marks she left behind.” A cipher that only a specific individual could understand. He had considered the possibility. While Soujirou’s senses may have been able to distinguish simple marks scratched into a building, the soldiers patrolling about wouldn’t have been able to recognize it as a type of cipher. However, that wasn’t the problem. “…It’s not the place that I question, but the date and time. Why did you escape from the hospital and come here, believing that there would be a match?” “’Cause this is where we’re having our match, right?” “No. The tenth match is canceled. You should’ve been informed about this ahead of time.” “Huh, ain’t we fighting, though? You say some really bizarro stuff, y’know that?” They weren’t on the same page. Why had Soujirou…been convinced that a match that couldn’t possibly happen while he was still in the hospital was going to happen? Why, also, hadn’t anyone been able to get a grasp on his method of communication? “After making such an impressive show of it to me, what the hell’re you on about?” There existed some type of obvious reasoning in Soujirou’s mind. Inside Rosclay’s brain, he thought at full speed in the pause of a single breath. He “saw” it. What sort of visual method was used? On top of that, something he recognized as being shown specifically to him… In which case, was it something he could see from his hospital room? At least, if the information was conveyed to him through some secret writing, he wouldn’t phrase it like this. Soujirou is a visitor, for starts. There isn’t any script in our world he could read— Then, he hit upon it. There was only one. One method that could convey something to Soujirou in an impressive manner without hiding it from anyone. Rosclay looked up at the sky. Balloons. The shopping district’s colorful advertising balloons could be seen from the window of his Romog Joint Military Hospital room. Hiroto the Paradox had a powerful influence over the shops he bargained with. It couldn’t have been hard to make them fly balloons in the exact pattern he specified. Even throughout the course of the Sixways Exhibition, there hadn’t been any point of contact between Hiroto the Paradox and Soujirou the Willow-Sword. Rosclay thought there couldn’t possibly be any cipher that the two of them could mutually understand. However, there was a single one. If this code was boldly hoisted up into the air, no one, none of the Aureatia citizens, nor Rosclay, would be able to read it. “I see, there is a method he could use…to tell you something…” “No way you’d write that if you weren’t tryin’ to tell me something. You didn’t want anyone else to know that you were holdin’ the match in secret here in this plaza…” A blind spot in their thinking due to living in this world, and not the Beyond. A code that only Soujirou and Hiroto could understand. “So you wrote it in Japanese, right?” …Hiroto the Paradox. Disguising it as a notice from Aureatia, he had gotten Soujirou to act on this day. The patterns of notification balloons were complicated to emphasize individuality. If one of the patterns among the notices that numerous shops flew into the air happened to coincidentally align with the writing script of another world, was there anyone here in this one who could have differentiated it? …It was impossible to ever predict. How could there be someone who could understand one specific language among the thousands that exist in the Beyond…?! Even worse, it happened all while we were pressed with responding to the grand coup erupting all over Aureatia… With an inevitability as if fate itself was being manipulated, he forced me to come across him! Hiroto the Paradox had lost. He had been defeated by the colossal nation of Aureatia, both politically and militarily. Was there anyone else who could manage to do all this from a state of affairs that left them without the slightest possible chance to turn the tables? Truly a paradox. Hiroto the Paradox was, without a doubt, a monster. Now, right in front of his eyes, Rosclay was faced with yet another monster. “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” “You got this, Rosclay! We’re cheering you on!” “Don’t go easy on him just cause he’s missing a leg!” “I’m gonna brag about this to my mom! It’s like a dream come true!” “Soujirou’s a helluva fighter, too, y’know!” “Rosclay! Rosclay!” “Rosclay! Rosclay!” He had to fight. Rosclay couldn’t ever run away. Since no matter who he fought, Rosclay the Absolute was never supposed to lose. “Run if you want, I don’t mind.” Soujirou alone spat out his words amid the chorus of cheers. “Ever since I showed up…seems to me like you’ve been scared stiff, eh? Lemme tell you, ain’t any fun for me to cut down guys like that.” “Heh… Thank you kindly. However, that is one thing I cannot do.” Rosclay descended from the fountain and stood at the same height as Soujirou. It was a necessary move to convince the crowd, but because he stepped over the fountain, the inside of his shoes were wet and now worked to his disadvantage in battle. Of course, when it came to disadvantaged footing, Soujirou fighting on one leg had it far worse than Rosclay. Nevertheless, the discrepancy between Rosclay and Soujirou’s fighting skills was on a whole different level. “…How should we signal the start of the match?” “Feel free to come at me whenever you want or whatever… I’ll even give you a handicap and say I won’t attack first. We’re gonna end up in sword range anyway.” “That’s fair. In that case, how about when our breathing’s synchronized.” As he talked, he put plenty space between himself and Soujirou. What he needed to do was verify his foe’s range. The attack range including what Soujirou showed in the third match, reflecting blades and throwing them. “Please, citizens of Aureatia, I ask you to remove yourselves from this plaza! As this is a true duel, your safety is not guaranteed. Your assistance is unnecessary!” Openly turning his back to Soujirou, he put space between them as he called to the people. He was aiming for a psychological effect by openly turning his back. Along with their conversation just now, he was making Soujirou and the audience recognize that they weren’t at the fighting stage yet. The tall buildings adjoining the plaza… No, I can’t use any of them. The residents should all been completely evacuated by the start of the first match, but there are far too many people gathered on the roofs looking down over the plaza. His gaze then arrived on the observation tower soaring on top of the hill. The tower was a massive stone construction of a bygone age, and the observation deck at the top was narrow. There was maybe ten or so citizens who had grabbed these “box seats.” “I beg those of you watching from the observation tower as well, please come down and leave this plaza… Even should I win my match against Soujirou, if any of you were caught in the battle and injured, then it shall not be a true victory.” “M-Master Rosclay!” “Hey, hey! Rosclay talked to me! Yeah he spoke to me!” “Oh, listen to you! We’re causing him trouble, you dolt! Quit putzing around and get down!” “Master Rosclay, I’m rooting for you…! I believe in you, I know you’ll never lose!” The citizens in the observation tower departed, each one commenting as they went. Continuing after this, Rosclay did something similar several more times. When Rosclay first arrived, he had needed to climb a fountain just to avoid people, but the droplet of terror that was Soujirou the Willow-Sword served to make them keep their distance. As long as he was able, as much as possible, to create a space that they absolutely weren’t supposed to approach, then crowd psychology would make it difficult for them to step into the area again. Rosclay extended out this area to construct an advantageous arena for himself. The castle garden theater wasn’t Rosclay the Absolute’s only battlefield—also… “C’mon, already! Quit dragging this out! How long’re you gonna keep me waiting here?!” He heard Soujirou’s enraged voice from behind. Rosclay was just about to head over to double-check that there wasn’t anyone near the observation tower a second time. “You are the one who said I was free to set the start of the fight at my leisure. While it may be of no concern to you… For myself, the safety of the citizens is paramount.” “Okay, sure, but…ahh, what a pain! Time to cut you down! If you don’t got any plans to fight, I’ll just attack from behind, got it?!” I’m sure you would. You’ll blow your top and come at me yourself. Your current position…means you have to make sure that this fight actually happens. Rosclay turned back around near the tower and faced him with a smile. His feet had already dried after being soaked in the fountain water. Soujirou’s movements, wobbling forward and drawing his right stick leg along, resembled a clumsy clockwork doll. It thus meant it was impossible for him to run, jump, or make any other sudden evasion movements. On top of that, if he was also in an excited mental state, his movements would naturally grow more linear and straightforward. “This should be enough.” Rosclay wasn’t in sword range. Soujirou was at the bottom of the hill. Rosclay swept his left side with a sword slash. It wasn’t an act of intimidation. The very tip of the sword grazed the foundation of the observation tower, scratching as it went… There was a loud stone creak. “We can begin now if you’d like.” The observation tower was leaning precariously in Soujirou’s direction. The tower, severed diagonally at its base, began to reveal its rectangular cross section. “Ohhhh!” It crashed. A destructive sound of everything, stone, earth, and steel smashing together. Shouts and cheers echoed from the audience, at last understanding the situation. Rosclay’s goal wasn’t to kill Soujirou in one attack. The aim had been to prevent him from making any evasive moments with the descent of a mass far too large to meet with a sword slash. He concealed it among the noise… “Antel io Jadwedo. Laeus 2 telbode. Temoyamvista. Iusemnohain. Xaonyaji.” (From Antel to the steel of Jawedo. The axis is the first right finger. Pierce sound. Descend from clouds. Circulate.) —the Force Arts coming out from the radzio. The longswords that had already been generated within the collapsed tower transformed into a tempest of silvery white and pierced through the gaps in the debris. Six. Ten. Thirteen. Nineteen of them. They rushed out at speeds too fast for the onlookers to even perceive. They passed through from above, left, right, and from front and behind. These swords started to make a buzzing sound from their terrifying speed. Rosclay took several steps back. …Wasn’t able to kill him, was it? A person’s arm peeked out from a gap in the rubble. This single arm alone managed to grab onto two of the longwords, but by the time he had gotten his shoulder out, the shape of the longsword was crumbling away to dust. He couldn’t allow Soujirou’s hand to grab onto any sword whatsoever. “Ownopellal io tem. Nactekcca. Siliyo axolis. Nika.” (From Ownopellal to Temilulk sword. Winged night. Thorny snow cover. Exhaust.) The Craft Arts that continued to flow from Rosclay’s radzio had destroyed the observation tower and made the numerous longswords all collapse in on themselves. Needless to say, it wasn’t Rosclay who had used the Force Arts moments prior, either. Determining it was impossible to avoid the match, Rosclay had drawn out the start time as long as he could. He knew that even with that slight bit of extra time, Jelky the Swift Ink could summon them all. Antel the Alignment, clearing out the rebel army in the vicinity of the old town, and Ownopellal the Bone Watcher, stopping around the station, had arrived exceptionally fast. His Craft Arts support and his Force Arts support had both arrived. Light shot from among the mountain of debris. With a crunch like a bug being crushed, the trajectory of the light changed in midair. Two of the longswords, brought together in a midair cross, were sliced through, and because Rosclay had reacted late, it stabbed most of the way through his sword blade. It was a fruit knife, seemingly obtained from some residential home. Rosclay’s hair stood on end. “…!” “Awww… Shoulda figured throwing stuff at random wouldn’t do it.” I can’t react… Krafnir and Antel protected me with everything they had, and just barely made it in time. Even a plain knife…can reach me from this far away?! Soujirou the Willow-Sword hadn’t been injured whatsoever. It merely seemed that he had been crushed underneath the mountain of rubble, but looking closer, within the mountain was an open space just big enough to fit one person. It wasn’t a coincidence—the rubble that Soujirou had dismantled in the span of a second had accumulated in shapes that mutually supported one another, so if anything, it had protected Soujirou as he stood in the middle of the destruction. On top of it all, that slight amount of space must have been plenty of room to defend himself from the longswords rushing in from the openings in the debris and leaving him nowhere to run. A deviant blade master with complete control over a sword, even those not in his grasp, on a technical and theorical level. Even after reflecting the scalpels precisely thrown by an almighty chimera and having a blade forced against him with a visitor’s brute strength, his wounds hadn’t been fatal. He understood absolutely everything as if the blade and him were of one body and mind. “Is that all you got?” …If I assume the projectile just now was a feint, then he can’t have many hidden weapons on him. Collapsing the observation tower and confining Soujirou inside was to stop his line of sight with the rubble. It was worth it just to try. Attacks via Force Arts aren’t effective, and if anything, there’s a greater risk the swords will be used against me. “You can run away if you want. ’Cept you’d better be running to try and win.” Rosclay put space between them. He couldn’t himself get closed in on here. Suddenly, it seemed like Soujirou’s clumsy steps changed their pace completely. “Krafnir!” “PISS OFF ALREADY!” Metal insects swarmed Soujirou, trying to bite and tear at him. Although the swarm should have been just barely dense enough to avoid the audience’s eyes, there was a blade whirlwind with godlike speed, and the bug colony that should have been impossible for any swordsman to deal with dropped to the ground without a single one of them reaching their target. Aberrant leg strength. If Rosclay had been fighting Soujirou at full strength, he wouldn’t have even had the chance to breathe once the match had started. “If you ain’t got any chance of winning, then cut it out!” “I CAN’T KEEP THIS UP, ROSCLAY!” “Please, just a little bit longer!” Krafnir’s fighting force, each bug on par with a single minian soldier, was being worn down. This wasn’t an opponent they could hold back against. If their army came to an end, it was death. Rosclay was continuing to back off, but there were some in the audience who grew suspicious of Soujirou as he slashed the air. “What’s that move of Soujirou’s there, ya think?” “He’s not hiding some invisible thrust up his sleeve or something, like Toroa, is he?” “This can’t be happening… Rosclay, unable to finish him off…?” Soujirou advanced, and Rosclay withdrew. “Antel io—” (From Antel—) Assuming it could even get a square hit on Soujirou, throwing longswords was a completely ineffective method of attack. Antel must have understood this for himself, too. Rosclay went down the hill while conversely Soujirou was on top of it, where the observation tower had originally stood. While there was plenty of space between them, Rosclay’s experience was warning him that he was in danger. Right now, Soujirou’s taken the high ground. He saw a long thin shadow, changing its shape atop the hill. Rosclay murmured. “…Professor Ownopellal. Craft Arts on the post of the gas lamp.” Orders given through the radzio. Since there had once been an observation tower constructed there, it meant there were gas lamps to illuminate the night view as well. This post, far thinner than the tower, aimed at Rosclay and collapsed straight toward him. It had been sliced on top of the hill. “Ownopellal io orde. Ikutes dea—” (From Ownopellal to Orde pillar. Waterfall eyeball—) Right. I’ll do the same myself. “Don’t try to—” A sound of metal scraping together. “—screw with me!” The sound of Soujirou sliding down the diagonally tilted post as it collapsed down the bottom of the hill. The two-cylinder structure he had in place of his right leg was locked together with the pole. “Arpistera. Gill.” (Unpeeled glimmer. Open.) “…!” The post, fulling its role as a railway to slide down, warped in the middle and bent. Soujirou grabbed on to the post with his left arm to stop his body from being sent flying. Conversely, Rosclay closed in on Soujirou for the first time in the match. Swordsmanship exactly as drilled, correct and just above all else. His step forward and stab happened all at once, as part of a single flowing body movement. However, as long as the move came from a blade, this visitor’s sword would catch the tip of Rosclay’s own and— “…What the hell?” Immediately beforehand, Soujirou blocked the thrust with his fake leg. There was a shrill bursting sound, and one of the two poles that made up his fake leg bent and went flying. The leg strength he felt through the fake leg’s kick, like that of a savage beast, repelled Rosclay’s right arm, throwing it out wide. In that brief second, unable to defend his midline— “…” “…” Stillness. Soujirou rolled without attempting any follow-up attack and landed on one leg. Rosclay the Absolute, too, remained still where he stood. The opposite side from his right hand, thrusting out and deflected away wide. In his left hand, held at the ready behind him, was a strange navy blue sword, baring a thick blade like a liyuedao sword. Making him grab the post with his left arm, he had blasted Soujirou’s fake right leg. If Soujirou had attacked him, Rosclay would have been able to cleave his face down the middle with a slash that was guaranteed to strike first. “Why,” Soujirou spat, “are you using that thing?” “Hah… Well, here I’m wondering why you didn’t block that with your sword for me.” “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” As if the condensed moment in time had returned to normal, suddenly the reverberating cheers reached his ears. When Soujirou sliced through the gas lamp and came flying into Rosclay’s melee range, the Force Arts activated. Launching longswords at Soujirou wouldn’t get a proper hit in, regardless of how many hundreds they fired at him. However, it could easily manage the task of handing over a sword to Rosclay. In his thrust-out right hand, Charijisuya the Blasting Blade. In his left hand behind his back, the Magicked Blade of Razhucort. Jelky had pulled out all the stops in his arrangements. The plan to pass through certain death range and then counterattack should have been a guaranteed kill. For the blade master from the Beyond, even that didn’t touch him. I’m different from Soujirou. Right now, Soujirou and Rosclay needed to fight together, standing on the same ground. Rosclay stood face-to-face with Soujirou slightly outside his sword range. “…Close to letting down my guard for a moment there when I broke through your defenses. A real good performance, eh?” “I’ll gladly accept that as a compliment.” Both of the swordsmen were smiling. A fiendish smile searching for blood, and a virtuous one praising his enemy. Krafnir. Jelky. Antel. Professor Ownopellal. Nevertheless, Rosclay the Absolute remained intent on victory. Even if he deployed all the dastardly and heretical tricks and eroded himself completely— “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” “Rosclay! Rosclay! Rosclay!” He would still win in a way befitting a just champion. …I’m not fighting this battle alone.
Chapter 207
23 min read