“G-gah…!”
When Kirin shook her head and opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by collapsed rubble.
She must have lost consciousness, if only for a brief moment.
Right…I tried to block the light with the Fudaraku…
Judging that she would be unable to avoid the onslaught, she had tried cutting through it with the Fudaraku, similar to what Ayato had done earlier. She had managed to avoid a direct hit, but the force of its power had overwhelmed her, the impact throwing her through the wall. Then—
“…!”
She leaped to her feet out of the rubble, just as Percival came tearing toward her through the darkness, a sharp thrust piercing the spot where she had been lying just moments ago.
“So…you’re still…alive…?”
As Percival turned her gaze toward Kirin, her head swiveling like a broken doll, her eyes seemed even more vacant than before.
Kirin’s first move was to leap from the hole the Holy Lance’s attack had gouged through the earth and return to the hall.
At the same time, she checked herself over for damage. A few of her ribs seemed to be broken, but her limbs were unharmed. She was covered in cuts and bruises, but thankfully, none of them seemed particularly deep.
She could keep on fighting.
“…Okay!”
She had yet to come up with a strategy for dealing with that torrent of light, but she hadn’t lost yet, and even if she couldn’t hope to win, she wasn’t about to give up anytime soon.
With that thought, she held the Fudaraku ready in front of her and waited for Percival to emerge from the hole in the ground.
“Y-you’re stubborn…aren’t you…?” Her foe fixed her in those dull, jet-black eyes as she drew the Holy Lance yet again.
Another flood of light began to build up around it.
Naturally. If she could activate that technique without needing to recharge, there was no reason to hold back.
“Rise…O Light…of Judgment…”
The best thing here would be to dodge it… But at this rate, I’ll be dodging forever… In that case…!
Kirin lowered herself to the ground, waiting for the blow to come.
Last time, she had been caught unawares due to making a split-second decision.
This time, she would accept the strike head-on.
She would adopt an altogether different attitude.
“Holy Lance—fire…!”
Golden light overflowed from the Orga Lux, rushing toward her in a mighty torrent.
“Hyaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!”
Letting out a spirited cry, Kirin brought the Fudaraku crashing down, its tip letting off a silver glow as it suppressed the oncoming barrage of light. The blade trembled, her arms supporting it buckled under the pressure, her legs were close to crumbling beneath her.
Power competing against power.
A brilliant flash erupted as gold and silver intercepted each other, neither fighter falling back, when—
“Kyargh!”
The wave of golden light dissipated as the Fudaraku swept downward.
I did it…!
Kirin and the Fudaraku had won in terms of raw power, and yet—
“I’ll…take that…”
“Uh-oh!”
By the time the light had faded, Percival was already directly in front of her.
Her basic strategy remained the same—to create a favorable situation using the Holy Lance, then to finish her off in close combat once an opportunity presented itself… Kirin should have realized that.
She wouldn’t be able to parry with the Fudaraku in time.
She quickly twisted her body in an attempt to evade, but Percival, as though having foreseen her movements, unleashed not a stabbing thrust, but a sideways slash.
The strike cut from her right shoulder all the way to her left flank, sending blood spurting out. Kirin staggered, mustering all her strength to leap backward and escape Percival’s pursuit.
“U-ugh…!”
That blow would have been fatal to any regular person, and even a Genestella would quickly succumb to blood loss. She probably had less than five minutes left of adequate mobility.
Percival, staring at her without expression, readied the Holy Lance—and pulled her right hand behind her back once more.
She never falters…
Kirin doubted she would be able to withstand that deluge of light in her current state.
But just as she thought it was all over, she suddenly realized something.
“S-swell…O Light…o-of Judgment…”
Though Percival’s face remained as stolid as ever, a solitary tear spilled from the depths of her cold, black eyes.
“…!”
At that moment, Kirin felt unprecedented rage explode inside of her.
Why hadn’t she noticed it sooner?
Percival had been suffering all this time.
Beneath that cold, expressionless exterior, for what must have felt like an eternity.
Not once had she seemed to be fighting through her own volition.
She should have noticed, Kirin berated herself. Ayato would have seen it immediately.
She was furious now, not only at those who had made Percival this way, but at herself for having overlooked it.
She clenched her jaw, ashamed of her own incompetence.
And then—she made up her mind.
“Holy Lance…fire!”
A fresh torrent of light burst forth.
But Kirin had already leaped into the air. Not upward, but to the side—to the wall.
The deluge chased after her as she ran in an arc across the hall, leaping from wall to ceiling, and from there, directly behind Percival’s back.
“Here I come!”
Bringing the Fudaraku down with all her strength, she stumbled forward to overpower her foe, who was already preparing to parry with the Holy Lance.
Kirin pressed forward, slashing from top to bottom, but Percival was no average opponent—she responded at once and parried the blade.
She was a formidable foe, a fighter worthy of the deepest respect.
Which was precisely why Kirin couldn’t forgive those who had done this to her.
She had fought against so many powerful enemies over the past few years. Ayato, Ardy, Xiaohui—even despicable individuals like Gustave Malraux and the sorcerer who had kidnapped Flora.
But this was the first time she had ever found herself so incensed, so full of rage.
This was an affront to basic human dignity.
“Hyaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!”
Kirin’s attacks continued to build up speed.
Yet even then, Percival was still able to take the brunt of her onslaught.
So what next?
Clutching the Fudaraku in the one hand, Kirin unsheathed the Hiinamaru with the other.
The Hiinamaru in her left hand, the Fudaraku in her right.
The Toudou style of swordsmanship didn’t specialize in dual-wielding techniques. This was something she had developed herself.
Back when she had fought against Gustave’s Spartoi, she had merely been making up for the difference in numbers—this time was different.
The Hiinamaru let out a flash of light, while the Fudaraku danced through the air.
Little by little, she began to push Percival back.
She hadn’t been intentionally holding back before this. The reason she hadn’t attempted to use both swords was that she didn’t know whether the Hiinamaru would be able to withstand a blow from the Holy Lance. It may have been the ancient swordsmith Kunikane Youkei’s greatest work, but it was still ultimately just a regular Japanese sword. If it collided directly with an Orga Lux of that power, it wouldn’t be at all surprising if it shattered then and there. Should that happen, Kirin would find herself speared by the Holy Lance before she could so much as blink.
But there was no point worrying about that now.
If she didn’t give this fight her absolute best, she wouldn’t stand a chance of beating Percival.
As her repertoire of abilities and skills collided violently with the Holy Lance, Kirin’s strength ebbed, and she felt the impacts of the blows wash over her.
The words of Ayato’s father Masatsugu sounded in the back of her head: “The key lies in precision, in how thoroughly you can put yourself into one swing of the sword.”
“R-right…!”
Taking her flurry of techniques to the next level, the flash of Kirin’s swords increased in intensity yet again.
From the Yatsuhashi to the Kanae, from the Kakitsubata to the Sekirei—
Percival was on the defensive now, unable to launch into her own counterattack.
At first glance, Kirin’s combination of moves might have resembled her Conjoined Cranes technique—but this was something different.
Given Percival’s perceptive eyes, the Conjoined Cranes would be ineffective here.
After all, the technique was based on analyzing the minutia of one’s opponent’s breathing, timing, and gaze to block their attacks and push them into a corner.
As such, while she was linking various disparate sword forms as she did in the Conjoined Cranes, this wasn’t that technique per se. It wasn’t even her New Conjoined Cranes.
If she had to give it a name, she would probably go with Senbazuru, in honor of her beloved old sword.
Now her every strike was delivered with her full body as she poured her strength into each swing and thrust. The Conjoined Cranes was a series of endless and unceasing attacks akin to the folding of an origami crane—and this was even faster.
Under regular circumstances, she wouldn’t be able to continue pouring her energy into a combination like this.
Right now, however, she had been pushed far past her limit.
“Ah, haah… Aaaaahhhhh…!” Percival howled beneath her expressionless exterior.
With the Hiinamaru, Kirin kept the Holy Lance in check, while she used the Fudaraku to repel it.
The Holy Lance—the Amalthean Goat—spun through the air, its blade swirling and dancing as the Fudaraku and the Hiinamaru crossed blades and slashed into Percival’s chest, slicing open a cross shape.
Just as the Amalthean Goat pierced the ground, Percival fell to the floor in a heap.
The wound had nearly been fatal. Kirin’s foe may have sought death, but still it eluded her.
Percival’s wounds were probably around the same depth as Kirin’s own, perhaps a little deeper. She wouldn’t be able to move anymore.
Though, of course, the same was true for Kirin.
“Phew…”
Exhaling weakly, she felt her knees quiver.
Her senses were already fading.
“I’m sorry, everyone… The rest…is up to you…”
With those faint words, she collapsed by Percival’s side, her consciousness sinking into darkness.