“Whew! You’re good, lady!” Kevin cried despite himself.
Alema’s movements really were brilliant.
“I’M JUST GETTING WARMED UP!” she declared, plunging alone into the throng of oncoming puppets.
She’s certainly leveled up compared to last time…
According to information Ernest had received from Sinodomius while student council president, when Alema was defeated by Xinglou and lost her position as number one in Jie Long’s hierarchy, she had been given the right to challenge her successor whenever she saw fit. At the time, Xinglou had forbidden her from speaking while performing her duties. This was ostensibly because speaking aloud wasn’t required to fulfill one’s tasks as an intelligence operative, but perhaps it also served as a valuable training exercise.
In martial arts, vocalizing was one of the main components of demonstrating power. In particular, some Chinese schools passed down special methods known as thunder voices, which Alema had mastered. Xinglou must have had her suppress her voice in order to improve her basic abilities.
Indeed, Alema now seemed much more capable than Ernest remembered.
It was obvious that she had surpassed Hufeng Zhao, the current head of the Wood sect, in every metric barring speed. In terms of raw martial arts ability, she was right up there with Xiaohui Wu.
Uh-oh… If she keeps this up, I’m going to lose control again.
Ernest felt a ferocious beast awakening inside him.
“HAH! WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I THOUGHT I SENSED A DEMONIC PRESENCE BEHIND ME… I LIKE HOW YOU THINK, ERNEST. SEEING AS WE’RE BOTH HERE, WHY DON’T WE HAVE A GO AT EACH OTHER?” Alema laughed, glancing his way as she took out more puppets with a single blow.
Their eyes locked, filling the space with a dangerous tension, when—
“…!”
Both he and Alema felt goose bumps rise on their skin.
They both turned to see the figure of a young girl below the oversized air-window. She seemed to be watching the match.
“…OH, COME ON, SERIOUSLY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, APEIRON?”
When he heard Alema call out that name, Ernest swallowed heavily.
Apeiron, the Witch of Foundational Principles, alias of Fevroniya Ignatovich. She was Allekant’s semi-legendary Page One, who hardly ever ventured out into public view. In fact, this was the first time Ernest had ever seen her in person.
“…You two. You’re getting on my nerves, you know?”
As if in response to Alema’s remark, Fevroniya, holding an open book in one hand, turned her sleepy eyes their way.
The next moment, all the puppets in their immediate vicinity twisted violently, their torsos tearing off and exploding in all directions.
“…”
Her display of overwhelming power left everyone speechless.
Meanwhile, Fevroniya turned her gaze back to the overhead screen as though nothing had happened.
“Ah, there you are…! I thought I told you not to run off by yourself… Huh?”
All of a sudden, someone familiar came running over, gasping for breath—Shuuma Sakon, Allekant’s student council president.
“Well, this is an unusual group…”
“President Sakon, what are you doing here?”
Shuuma had practically zero fighting ability and was in no position to be hanging around such a dangerous area. His situation was completely different from that of Ernest, who had already retired as his school’s student council president.
“It would take too long to explain… To put it simply, we—Fevroniya and I—were caught up in these terrorist attacks while out in the city. We tried to make our way back to the school, but the lakeside district is swarming with puppets, so we decided to go through the commercial area. Then all of a sudden, Fevroniya started running this way…” Shuuma explained all this with an embarrassed look, his shoulders slumping as he glanced at his companion. “As ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to Allekant without her help.”
Fevroniya, the girl in question, kept staring at the overhead air-window.
“It looks like she’s really keen on the match…,” Ernest remarked.
“Oh…that’s unusual. She doesn’t normally take any interest in the Festa.”
Following her lead, Ernest and the others looked at the display.
Ernest had come to the commercial area with Kevin and Lionel to watch the match. If he had asked Elliot, he could probably have reserved seats in the special viewing room, or else picked up some general admission tickets, but having already left the student council, he didn’t want special treatment. Besides, it was more fun to watch the match in the city streets without having to worry about everyone’s expectations. In the end, however, other matters had taken precedence.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but the Glühen Rose is really something, huh? To be honest, I thought the match would have been decided by now,” Kevin remarked.
“She’s on a whole other level from the likes of us. Who knows? She might even manage to come out on top,” Lionel added.
The two of them had finally found time to catch a breather.
But more puppets could show up at any moment. They had to remain on their toes.
“A DECISIVE BATTLE BETWEEN TWO STREGAS… WHAT ABOUT YOU, APEIRON?” Alema asked lightly, turning to Fevroniya. “COULD YOU BEAT THOSE TWO?”
“…Against the Glühen Rose, I’m not sure. But Erenshkigal would probably be too much.”
“OH?” Alema’s eyes widened in surprise—either at Fevroniya’s answer, or at the frankness of her admission.
“I haven’t trained to fight, so against Erenshkigal, it would come down to our abilities. In that case, there’s no way I could keep up, given the difference in our power outputs. Right?”
“H-hold on, Fevroniya!” Shuuma interrupted in panic. “What are you doing, telling outsiders about your weaknesses?! And intelligence agents from other schools, no less!”
“Oh…” Fevroniya fell silent.
It was true that she didn’t seem to have any specialist fighting knowledge or skills. According to intel from Sinodomius, she had an unbelievable ability that involved rewriting the laws of physics, but she had to carry a book on her at all times to use as a catalyst. If that was true, it was one more weakness that an opponent might take advantage of.
“B-but what a surprise…! Up till now, Fevroniya has only ever recognized two opponents she couldn’t defeat. That’s Erenshkigal for you,” Shuuma interjected, obviously trying to change the subject.
“Oh? Who might those two be?” Ernest asked, choosing to go along with the diversion.
Shuuma’s face relaxed in visible relief. “The first is a certain someone from Jie Long who goes without saying. But the other one might surprise you.”
Indeed, the name that rolled from Shuuma’s lips came as a shock even to Ernest.
“The chairman of the Festa Executive Committee—oh, right, I guess he’s technically the former chairman now. Madiath Mesa.”