It was indeed Kyoya.
This young man should be thousands of miles away on a mountain peak, engaged in rigorous mental and physical training. How could he have set foot in this floating palace?
He casually walked toward them, as if his broad smile alone was enough to answer all such questions, radiating a strength and confidence a world apart from before.
“You—!”
Her right hand slashed through the air. A fantastic force tightened around Kyoya, equal to the bear hug of a giant. With a thrust of his elbows, it evaporated without a trace.
“You damned—” she growled.
“Izayoi kenpo.” Kyoya smiled, flashing his white teeth. “With a bit of supercharging, to be sure. I think it’s about time for the fat lady to sing.”
“What are you saying? You dare say such a thing to me? To Semiramis!”
“Hey, it’s a whole new era. It’s been thousands of years. You people have got to get with the times. Give the magic act a rest and go back to sleep in whatever cave you came from.”
“Bastard!” she cried out, and again fell back senseless.
“Impressive,” Mephisto said, without the slightest hint of intonation in his praise. When Kyoya turned his cool gaze on him, he said, “Why the look?”
“Turncoat.”
“That is unkind.”
“I leave a single girl in your care, and you expose her to all kinds of dangers playing around with your dumb hobby. You and me are gonna have words when we get out of this place. Don’t forget.”
“I’m afraid you haven’t been fully apprised of the situation.”
“Meaning what?”
At that moment, the mask seized Sayaka and vaulted away. Kyoya lunged forward with Asura, but concern for Sayaka’s physical well-being delayed his response a split-second. Another leap, and the mask dodged the attack that hummed through the air at his midsection. The two of them disappeared into the palace.
“Wait, dammit!”
Kyoya and Mephisto ran after them. They found themselves in front of the big pool. A single silhouette in red stood there with unusually long arms. The knight Vian. The golden mask and Sayaka were behind him.
Sayaka squirmed and writhed, almost too much for him to handle. The souls of Semiramis and Sayaka struggled for control of her body.
“Why not call it a day?” Kyoya softly suggested.
The red shadow didn’t budge. “What happened to my brothers Valen and Mathias?”
Kyoya averted his eyes. “They are sleeping beneath the Himalayan snow.”
“I see. They were hoping to duel with you. But that gives me all the more reason to fight. First to protect my lord. Second to avenge their deaths.”
“I have no desire to fight you.”
The knight seemed to smile beneath the helmet. “I am Vian, the eldest of the three knights of Marduk. I challenge you in the name of our lives, our souls and our honor.”
Kyoya didn’t reply, but had already assumed a hasso stance, with Asura raised over his right shoulder. He stepped forward as if gliding on ice. Sayaka, the mask, and even Mephisto took little note of him, only of that charged space where these radiant warriors battled to tip the balance between life and death.
The knight drew his very long sword. Kyoya felt as if he were being assaulted by a hallucination, Vian’s arms were that long. The sword added another ten feet. It was impossible to judge his actual reach, and for a fencer the absence of that bit of information could prove fatal.
He wasn’t getting any time to think through the problem. White light flashed up from below. Kyoya twisted his body out of the way and counterattacked, aiming at the forearm. The knight brought his long arm back with amazing swiftness, parried and thrust again.
Kyoya deflected the thrust and Asura spit fire. The knight raised his arms. In this strained stance, Kyoya lunged at his chest. He didn’t use his nenpo. This was a pure kendo move. Against such an opponent, he wouldn’t have used it except as a last resort.
The answering attack came from the jodan position, Vian bringing the sword down from directly above his head. The blade threw off a vibe that stood his hair and his spirit on end.
This time, Kyoya’s spirit was suffused with the determination of death.
Answering the downwardly sweeping sword with a right jab had nothing to do with victory. It was the unconscious manifestation of the most logical strategy at this moment in time.
Both appeared faster than the other. Both appeared a split-second too slow.
The steel blade snipped through Kyoya’s hair and the tip buried itself in the marble floor. Just as the red knight’s giant frame flew back through the air with tremendous force and fell down on the edge of the pool.
“Are you all right?” Kyoya called out, running over to where he lay. However he might have to fight him, from the start he’d never had reason to hate him.
The water in the pool roared and rose up before his eyes. The wave turned inside out, bursting from within like a budding flower. A stone statue climbed fifteen feet into the air. This must be the monster that sent that wall of water against him the first time Kyoya had visited the Demon Palace.
The immense frame shook the marble as it stepped out of the pool. Directly beneath its feet was the red knight. The awful crunching sound aroused Kyoya’s ire.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, and took off running. He sensed a fierce battle somewhere further away, Mephisto and the golden mask engaged in their own death struggle.
Concentrating all his psychic energies, Kyoya attacked the huge foot that had trodden upon the red knight. The big stone god clasped a hand against its leg. Unlikely that it could feel pain, but even stone could comprehend the nen-induced damage.
It swept sideways with its right hand, like a giant scythe. Kyoya struck at the forearm, just as he was thrown backwards. He turned a somersault in the air and landed on his feet.
No sooner had he assumed a fighting stance than the statue was gone. “What the—?” he started to say, as he was forcefully lifted into the air. An arm grew out of the floor, with Kyoya riding on its enormous palm. He didn’t need to be told how space could be warped and twisted here.