Chapter 160

Knowing now that it would not easily break, Chlammy gripped her soul firmly and thought. Ah, she had known all along… He had only been lying about the true nature of her soul… In other words… …what is it that makes boobs real? …If it was true that any fat or air she could stuff in them would just be pads—fake boobs—then what was contained in real boob? Authentic big boobs? What was it that her small boobs lacked, for which even conceptual stuffing could not compensate? It was simple. Even Sora had never said you couldn’t get big boobs. Rather, he had declared without compunction that if you only took his medicine every day, you too could have big boobs. You could. You could have big boobs. Big, fake boobs. If you weren’t to take pride in that— “—This humble chest of mine…is filled with my soul…!” Indeed…her boobs were a vessel for her very self: Her dreams. Her ambitions. Her journey, as she struggled in the pursuit of the ultimate boobs. Her will, and her pride—!! Chlammy bellowed it without reserve, and Fi nodded with a bright and shining smile. Yes—by now…even Chlammy could see. When the conceptual rewriter—when the “big boob essence” had given everyone big boobs… …what had made Sora rage so fiercely… …was simply— “How dare you alter my Chlammy without permission and then call her fake…” —What would they do? It was simple—defined by their mutual vortex of feeling. They weren’t going to kill him. Why would they kill him? They needed him alive. “… Why, if you’ve no awareness of the crime you’ve committed…we shall have to teach you…” What he needed was not death. It was understanding. “…Then you’ll learn just what you’ve meddled with—and repeeent.” —Get on your knees and apologize. You hear me? Do it, bitch.— So the overwhelming form exhorted Veig. He still couldn’t grasp its meaning. But when the golem turned red as the light bent from the vast number of spirits—an amount greater than Fiel’s own—Veig merely had a hunch he should lower his stance— «…Ho there, looks like I ain’t gonna be able to make it in a minute… Sorry, I’ll be late.» —and he gave Sora and Shiro a heads-up. His intuition told him he’d better respond with all his spirits as well, so he poised himself at full attention. Ah… One race unrivaled in seal rites, another in spirit arms: the Dwarf, Veig Drauvnir, indeed a peerless talent, the greatest of his age—but let it not be forgotten who was unrivaled in compilation of sophisticated rites. The Elf, Fiel Nirvalen, likewise. Though she might not stand at the top, she was one of the few who could stand as his foe. Two machines facing each other in a vortex of spirits and pleasure. Staking their fates, their cards, their blood—staking that which lay deep in their souls—they stood poised for battle. In fulfillment of distant vows from long ago, destruction raged like a storm, under the protection of the Covenants. Meanwhile, apart from that barrel-blazing dystopia, Sora’s consciousness floated, singing the praises of love and peace, in utopia. Ah…they all called him: Shiro, Til, Jibril, Emir-Eins, and Steph of course, and even Izuna and Holou. They bashfully begged him to massage their plump breasts. Yes…in this indisputable utopia, the ample-bosomed beauties all asked him in the same sweet whisper: Oh, what more do you want? More? What more could I ask? he answered without a moment’s hesitation. Enveloped in titular bliss, he knew he had everything… For a great chest is a great thing. It should go without saying. It felt good to squeeze. It was erotically appealing—such basic, self-evident truths did not merit discussion. Who would not clutch his head to ask, Why is chocolate delicious? and be answered, Because it’s sweet? Do you then assert that dark chocolate is not delicious? If all you want is sweetness, then go eat some sugar. If one were to ask where lay the appeal of large bosoms and insist on one simple answer, Sora’s would be this: It lay in their symbolism. Indeed, big boobs are symbolic… To be frank: Don’t they give you the sense that you could squeeze them and get away with it? To gird this theory, let us imagine what sorts of onomatopoeia we might use to describe the act of squeezing large breasts. —Bwoing. Jiggle. Floof. Listen to your intuition: No harm no foul, right? Now let us imagine the sorts of onomatopoeia we might use for small breasts. —Boop. Plink. Bwip. Have you any doubt that this is a crime? Therefore: What more could he ask for?! Embraced by a legion of voluptuous beauties, Sora was sure: I mean—I’ll say this once and say it again…I love…boobs……? ……… “Eeyaagh?! Uh, huh-wha…?! Wh-what was that? I’ve no idea, I’ve nottt!” Sora was roughly brought back to reality by the shock that abruptly shook the whole stage. To be more precise, it was Til—to be yet more plain, Til’s almost stark-naked abdomen—her highly elastic tummy slapping against his back that brought Sora back at the speed of sound— “—Whoaaaaaa?! Hey—shhhiiiiiiiiit!!!” —as the curved blades came at similar speeds. He just barely managed to dodge that one that had grazed him. And—shit—he clucked as its path curved above his head. Veig’s parting gifts turned in the air like boomerangs to attack him. It was as if they had some homing ability. They were easier to deal with than Veig himself, but— “…Ah…if I had, big boobs…and it was an accident—then you could get away with it…with me…” Shiro mumbled, her eyes bereft of light. Her joystick looked like it was about to break into pieces. You could see what that little scratch had done to her. She asked as if in a trance: “…I’ll pretend not to like it, okay? Brother…are you that against…big-boobed Shiro…?” Sora could see ever clearer that if they took a direct hit, her core—her heart would break. He held her on his lap and did his best to speak gently. “Shiro. I’ll tell you once and tell you again… Your brother loves you no matter how you look.” Shiro was still caught in the illusion. Her cheeks flushed. Yet Sora continued: “But if we submit to Veig’s way of thinking, I’ll end up rejecting any Shiro that isn’t big boobed!!” “Uh. Wha…? …Uh, ee…eegh?!” That knocked her to her senses. White-faced, struggling against despair, she took hold of her joystick once more. That’s right… A big-boobed Shiro? Truth be told, he had no problem with that. She was fundamentally a perfect, flawless beauty. The materials were just too good; it was obvious. But that son of a bitch. He messed with Shiro based on his own shit taste. And on top of that, he called everyone without big boobs fake. And he rejected all that had come before, the past and the present— —Veig had rejected his actual sister. He’d rejected Shiro in her entirety!!! Who the hell was going to break? Not me! Not until I make you understand who’s got the shit taste, asshole!! The Gatling gun and the siblings flared at another blade curving at them. “…I—I…can’t take…any more, I can’t…!” But amidst the roar of their muzzle as they took the blade down, even more than Sora and Shiro— “…The unit, my hammer, and I are at their limits, they are…” —the unit, the hammer, and Til whined together that they were about to break. …To begin with, it was a miracle that their mech even worked. It wouldn’t have been surprising for it to break down at any time, or even to explode right at the start. “…I knew it, you two flew, you did… You were birds, you were…” But Til sounded even closer to breaking, having already broken into tears. “If you only had a better machine, you could have…won…even…against the chieftain—” And she went on: There never was a place for junk like me… But. Boom… The boom of their Gatling gun as it took down another blade, along with the explosion of their left arm, drowning her out. “Ha-haa! Six left!! …Uh, sorry, Til, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?!” “…She said…it’s her fault, you…became, a big-boobs fascist…” “The hell?! How could that be? Her tummy just totally made me into a loli—ow!” Sora goofed around, and Shiro elbowed him. Their grins implied… …that they hadn’t heard her. Til’s eyes lolled about. “Hey, Til, you overworked?! Humans can’t fly, you know?! We’re cheating, that’s all it is. We’re cheating!!” Indeed, in the first place, they were mere humans, mere weaklings—mere cheaters. You could dress it up with words like ingenuity, but: “Even if an airplane flies, it’s not a human, but an airplane that’s flying, you know?!” “…And…we’re not even, the ones…who built—the airplanes, you know…?!” . What made Til gasp? Was it the sound suggesting that the Gatling gun in their right arm which had felled the blade was about to break? Or was it a recognition of the irony in the savage sneers of Sora and Shiro? Indeed, these were the black arts of the weak, those who had to resort to such measures to win. The numerous tricks Sora and Shiro had shuffled out to compete with Veig—their strategies, their tactics; mathematical prediction, informed inducement, far-ranging academic disciplines and theoretical frameworks—all of it. “All we’re doing is patching together stuff we’ve borrowed from others!!” The proud weak, the lovable fools—humans had endlessly maintained a way of life antithetical to the forging of Dwarves. The human way was a process of failure and error which continued pathetically on and on…while even so going on struggling, flailing in the dark. Until something just happened to fit together. Until something was born from a mistake—a miraculous byproduct of wandering lost. It was by patching things together that they drove that forward. But still, they cried out—!! “Still, that’s not enough to win—so…!” “…Gotta, collect, more…!” The limited legacy of Dwarf. The stubborn theory of Elf. And— Til’s eyes opened wide. What was reflected in those pale blue eyes, most likely, was the ultimate despair engendered by five curved blades. Their silver traces carved the air, coming at them faster than sound, their trajectories fatal. The Gatling gun and the right arm that held it were smashed up. Their frame was on its last legs, unlikely to be able to make it through another demi-shift. But that was why, Sora and Shiro savagely sneered. They were echoed by a roaring explosion. The next moment— “We’re flying on the wings we borrowed from your way of life.” “Ah…” …Til gaped again at the frame that soared high into the sky, and at Sora’s laugh—but a feeling different from that of a moment ago coursed through the catalysts. —It’ll go out of control and blow up? Excellent—blow it the hell up. The explosion of their legs propelled them so now they were way up looking down at those five blades. Her feeling was directed toward those two, who aligned their sights with those blades, and toward herself, who looked to the high, blue sky within that cockpit… She looked up with confusion, worry, and even resignation. High and blue… It was the sky… The mountain of failure and error she’d piled up from the things she’d found haphazardly, not even knowing what value they had… It all came together as if someone had made a mistake. She’d seen that sky as a child, and then it had gone from her—and now here she was. The heights she’d never even imagined…the place she’d longed for. Now—the three of them together had leaped there—at last Til realized. “Come on… How long are you going to hold back?” Sora pulled up the corners of his mouth and howled at Til over the roar of his fire piercing the blades below. “Smile!!! “Isn’t this the ultimate moment you thought you’d only see in your dreams?! Here you are in the sky!! Beyond the limits you thought imaginable—so how does it feel?!” ……Gasp… Til chuckled ambiguously as the machine fell And then, the clunky mech, reduced to an immobile heap of metal by the devastation of its limbs, collapsed onto the ground. «……Hff… Oh, good God! Ah well, I suppose we’ve had our fun!» Chlammy’s surly tone came through the comm system of the once-humanoid machine that was now a pile of scrap. «Go do as you like, as per the deal!! Waaah! Fiii, I can’t staaand iiit!» …Ha-ha… Looks like Chlammy and Fiel really hung in there, too… Sora and Shiro smirked together in the cockpit. “Yeah… I’d say we’ve had our fun, too. Didn’t think we’d make it this far. ” “…Mm… Now…from here, on…it’s, your turn to play…Til. ” “…………Uh. Um? I… What?” They turned to Til as if handing off a controller. She looked back blankly. “We can’t beat this. Doesn’t matter what kind of machine we have… We just can’t.” “…We can’t…answer the question… We can’t…settle our past…” For a moment, they looked down as they spoke. But only for a moment. Then they gazed into Til’s eyes with smiles of heartfelt fun… Yes, they looked into those pale blue eyes, which were hotter than red-hot yet had been quivering with naked fragility. The fire that had smoldered, I won’t accept it, and, I won’t give in…rebelling passively. The eyes at last lit with a will that could no longer be shaken…I want to win— “But, Til—I think, now, you can answer. Right?” “…Til…why did you run…?” “!” Yes…the third person at whom Veig’s question was directed, the main heroine—his niece, Til. She could do it, they said. But Til peered back into Sora’s eyes as if trying to determine the truth behind his words. “Hey. Even if you build an airplane to fly, that doesn’t make you a bird.” —Sora, the dark sky, spoke back. “But birds don’t build airplanes… Why do you think that is?” —The sky of a color higher than blue, from beyond the greatest heights, smirked back. “FYI, there are things you can only see when you’re lower than anyone.” “…Let’s blast off…so high…together, higher than the birds. ” They invited her where she’d begged to go. —Til looked down and grinned. “Heh, heh-heh-heh. Heh, I say. Excellent, then, leave it to meee!!” —If it was a place reachable only by the most inferior— “There’s no spirit-arm artisan worse than me in the worrrld, there’s not!!” —then no one but she could get there!! She shouted forth her zeal and her thirst, and the absolute truth—namely! “For Iam as smooth as a dolphin, I aaam!!!” “Hey, okay, I sort of get it, but just let me say this: You are talking about beards, right?!” Sora cried out just to make sure, but he was no longer in the scope of Til’s concern… Seeming as unstoppable as a fired arrow, Til violently kicked open a hatch of the cockpit and flew out. With blinding speed, she started fixing her cracked hammer…