“And Ouma’s down! He’s not moving! Can he even move?!”
“Wh-What an uppercut...”
“The match’s gotta be over right?”
“So this is what the Blazer with the world’s largest mana pool is capable of...”
Stella had completely turned things around after coming back from her ring out. The audience was stunned by her strength. However, their voices didn’t reach Ouma. His right shin was shattered, his left arm had been dislocated, all of his ribs were broken, his jaw had been completely destroyed, and there were even a few cracks in his skull. On top of that, the heat emanating from all of those damaged bones was still scalding his muscles and nerves from within. It was a miracle he was still conscious, so it was no surprise he wasn’t able to hear the crowd.
Vision hazy, he thought back to the day five years ago when he’d learned how vast the world was, and how tiny he was in comparison. It was true that he had more talent than most—enough to become someone truly great. But if one were to liken his talent to gold, he was nothing more than a few flakes of gold dust. There were others out there who had an entire gold bar’s worth of natural talent. And there was a world out there that only those with such truly exceptional talent were allowed to set foot in. That was the nature of the pinnacle Ouma had been aiming for. At one point, he’d even asked himself if it wouldn’t be better to simply accept his place in the world. If he did, he’d at least be able to win a small amount of glory, as befitting his meager talent. Reality was constantly reminding him that he’d be better off if he just did that.
But even so...
“Nnnnnnngh!”
“O-Ouma’s managed to roll over and push himself to his knees! He’s trying to get back up! Even Stella’s taken aback!”
This burning desire in my heart won’t let me stop.
No matter how many times Ouma was reminded that he was nothing compared to the truly strong, no matter how many times his confidence, pride, and skill were shattered, his thirst refused to wane. He wasn’t asking for anything else. It didn’t matter if this was a stupid way to live his life. All he wanted was to become the strongest. He loved this world, and he wanted to stand at its pinnacle.
It was a wish that had blossomed the day he won his first match. Compared to Stella’s desire to protect her country and her people, it was a childish, selfish wish. In truth, it was no different from someone wanting to become a professional baseball player simply because they could throw a faster pitch than those around them, or someone trying to become a manga artist because they could draw better than their peers. Everyone had a dream or two like that when they were a child. Unlike everyone else, however, Ouma still thirsted to become the strongest even after he’d tasted a dose of reality and had his pride shattered. That dream was all he had left, but it was what allowed him to keep moving forward no matter what. No matter how selfish or childish it was, he would never give it up.
For me, this dream is something worth staking my life on!
“Graaaaaaah!”
“H-He got back up! He’s covered in wounds and coughing up blood, but he still got back up! I-I don’t believe it! How can he manage that when half his bones are broken?!”
“He’s using air pressure to create makeshift casts. Ouma-chan hasn’t given up yet!”
Ouma realized that at some point, he’d stopped trembling. His body, his blood, his bones, his very soul yearned so deeply for strength that his desire had overcome his fear. This was his chance to overcome that wall. Despite how hopeless the situation was, he didn’t even feel an ounce of despair.
Ever since losing to the Tyrant, all he’d focused on was once again standing upon this stage, once again stepping foot in the world of the strong. For the past five years and one hundred days, he’d trained relentlessly, and now he knew that effort hadn’t been a waste. It was precisely because he’d been beaten down so badly that he’d been able to stand back up, become stronger, and return to fight again. His never-ending thirst was pushing him onward, urging him to overcome his limits, defeat the girl before him, and once again reach for the top.
“Do your worst, Crimson Princess.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Ouma poured all of his remaining mana into Ryuuzume, encasing it in a whirlwind. The whirlwind grew larger and denser as it gathered in the surrounding air until it was a violent gale composed of tens of thousands of wind blades. He was preparing his trump card, the same technique that had defeated Stella once before: a claw of wind as strong as a dragon’s talons.
He raised Ryuuzume high into the air, intent on matching a dragon’s might with draconic might of his own. He knew the gap in strength between them was enormous, but even so, he wanted to fight Stella head-on. He glared sharply at her, refusing to compromise or change his way of life. He loved the world too much to change.
Stella thought back to what Ikki had said about Ouma back during the training camp. “My main impression of him from the few times I saw him was that he was a really single-minded guy.” Ikki had sounded proud of his brother as he’d described him. Now, Stella could understand why. No doubt Ikki respected him and his drive to get stronger. He was a knight who’d been working his hardest toward the goal he’d had since he was a child.
“I accept your challenge, Gale Emperor.”
Stella started preparing her strongest Noble Art in response. She held her hand up high, summoning a sword of pure flame. At its tip, she gathered her mana, the very power to carve out one’s fate. With all of her strength and determination concentrated in one point, she glared back at Ouma. There was no need for words anymore. The only thing left for them to exchange was blows. The two swung their swords down at the exact same time.
“Kusanagi!”
“Karsalitio Salamandra!”
Heat and wind collided as the two unleashed their strongest attacks at each other. Just like the last time this had happened, shock waves of heat and wind buffeted their surroundings, nearly bowling the audience over. But this time, the two attacks didn’t look evenly matched for even a second. In less than a second, the heat and flames tore through the wind, swallowing the Gale Emperor whole.