…Unless one was in the state of shiki, that is.
By maximizing and deepening the enhanced perception afforded by the state of shiki—the very essence of the Amagiri Shinmei style’s various perception enhancement techniques—he could read fluctuations lasting only the briefest of moments. Through his understanding of the overall situation, he could even predict the moment they would overlap.
The heavy blow that he had unleashed with that perfect timing was his Uwabami technique.
Since it took advantage of his opponent’s lapse in awareness, not only would Madiath be unable to evade, but he wouldn’t be able to defend himself with the Raksha-Nada, either.
Or at least that was how it was supposed to play out.
That blow just now…it didn’t feel quite strong enough. The moment my blade reached him, did he reflexively twist his body to avoid it…?!
The speed required would have been superhuman.
Was it due to the transformation of his prana?
“Well, an arm is a small price to pay if it means seeing the plan to completion. I’ll just get a healer to reattach it. After I kill you, that is.”
Madiath was now frowning slightly, his earlier surprise nowhere to be seen.
“The fact that you waited so long to use that technique must mean you can’t easily repeat it, no?”
“…”
Madiath had guessed right.
It took a considerable amount of time to establish the right conditions to use Ayato’s Uwabami technique. It wasn’t the kind of move that could be performed on a whim. Given his physical state, he would have difficulty pulling it off again.
“Ha-ha-ha. Looks like I hit the mark. And now you’ve revealed another weakness for me to abuse.”
“Another weakness…?” Ayato repeated as he brought his breathing under control.
Madiath arced an eyebrow. “…Even now, you still haven’t tried to kill me, have you?”
“…!”
“A swordsman can train to conceal his killing intent, but if you had actually intended to slay me, you would have cut a little deeper. Though a fatal blow may well have been out of reach.”
“I…”
He was right again.
It was true that Ayato hated Madiath, after everything that he had done to his sister—but even now, he had no intention of taking the man’s life.
“You’re a fool. A true fool. I’m under no obligation to tell you this, but as someone who fought his way through this boring, insipid city, just as you have, I’ll give you one piece of advice. You control your inner bloodlust well, but doing so keeps you from reaching me. Cultivate it, that savagery of yours. When need be, release your inner anger, your hatred, your desire to kill. If you don’t come at me with the intent to end my life, you’ll never win.”
Bloodlust was a negative emotion—a harrowing spirit that filled one’s opponent with fear.
It could be found in everyone’s heart, and it was certainly a source of strength in a fight.
And yet—
“…No,” Ayato said quietly.
“Oh? And why not?”
“I don’t want to be like you.”
“Hah…!”
Madiath brought the Raksha-Nada around, the blade’s small fragments assembling into long, thin chains. The result was a serpentine, whiplike weapon, similar in shape to the Serpent Blade Ororomunt. Five of those chains spread out like the feathers of a peacock, attacking as if they had minds of their own.
Ayato ran across the stage, leaping, slashing, and parrying with the Ser Veresta to dodge the blades as they came at him from above and below. Every time he put weight on his legs, blood spurted from the wounds crisscrossing his body, and he could feel his strength seeping out second by second. But if he stopped moving, it would all be over.
The crimson serpentine blades cut though everything in their path, pillars and ground alike, pursuing him as he fled. They refused to let up, giving him no time to catch his breath, but he continued to dodge all the same, assessing the logic of their movements.
On careful inspection, the links at the very end of the chains consisted of fragments more than twice as large as the rest. Since it was difficult to control small pieces, his opponent was probably only freely manipulating those larger ones, letting them drag the rest of the chain behind them.
In that case—
Ayato dove between two of the whiplike blades, then spun around and darted for Madiath.
“Hmm?”
Naturally, his foe was ready to intercept him with the Raksha-Nada, while the remaining three whips pursued him from behind—a textbook pincer attack.
But just before Ayato could reach Madiath, he slammed on the brakes, his blade slashing through the first link of the oncoming whiplike blades as he spun around.
Having lost control, the serpentine swords careened straight for Madiath—but defeating him wouldn’t be quite so easy. Just before they reached him, they froze in midair.
With his focus on manipulating the Raksha-Nada, however, his opponent had left himself open.
“Hah!”
“Tch…!”
But Ayato’s blow, struck at the most opportune moment, passed through naught but thin air.
Madiath had managed to dodge Ayato’s blade.
“That was close… Your ability to respond to attacks is not to be underestimated,” he said, before lowering his voice dangerously. “I can’t let you get the better of me because I kept teasing you for too long. I think it’s about time. Let’s finish this head-on.”
Madiath’s bloodlust swelled up from within, the prana filling his body shining with a blinding radiance. His vicious will was clear—he wanted to overturn, crush, and destroy everything in front of him.
Ayato, fighting not to get swallowed up by it, held the Ser Veresta ready in front of him.
A head-to-head duel was exactly what he wanted. After all, he didn’t have much time left.
“…Come!”
At that word, Ayato and Madiath lunged for each other.
Madiath’s strange gait confused Ayato’s sense of distance, but he managed to block the oncoming blow with Ser Veresta.
His opponent was just as fast as before, but with his left arm gone, his physical strength was noticeably diminished.