That was only the beginning of Leon’s relentless offensive.
“Arts of Steel: Simultaneous Deployment.”
Leon’s left arm initiated Abominable Armament Number Three. The writhing mass of blades threw Rheinhardt off balance, and that created an opening for Number Four, the toxic spear that pierced the angel’s chest.
“Ugh?! U…gh… Hey! Poison’s not fair! That hurts, you know! What’s the point if it’s not gonna kill me? That’s just torture! You’re sick!”
A full-on direct assault didn’t work and neither did an underhanded scheme. Was there no limit to Rheinhardt’s immortal nature? Plus, exhaustion meant nothing to the angel. So long as there was anything nearby—liquid, solid, or gas—then he could maintain his ability for as long as he liked.
Leon, on the other hand, was already running out of time.
It’s begun. My body is beginning to fall apart.
Though hidden by his coat, Leon could feel his abdominal muscles beginning to melt. He had just expended far more power than his ghoulish flesh could withstand. After his makeover, the energy he wielded was far beyond his capacity to control.
At this rate, I’ll only last another ten minutes. But I can’t back down now.
The plan was still proceeding as expected. Leon continued the fight, pushing Rheinhardt back through District Two, quite a distance from the mansion where the battle had first begun.
It’s just around this next corner…!
The pair came out into a small square, crowded with people. Leading Rheinhardt here was the end goal of Leon’s plan. In other words…
This was where it would all end.
As soon as the pair set foot inside, they sprung into action. Twenty-four temple knights, stout of arm, and the closest the church had to an army of full-blown heroes. They had hidden themselves down passages and inside buildings, chanting their spells in preparation for Leon’s arrival.
“Burn in the Lord’s name!”
From out of windows, from down avenues, the exact same chant echoed from two dozen pairs of lips. Two dozen sets of geometric patterns appeared in the air around Rheinhardt.
“…Huh.”
That reaction was all he was able to accomplish before chains shot out of the patterns, arresting his movement in an instant.
This was a Sacrament—one the Church guarded with jealous secrecy. It was the ultimate sealing spell, devised for the sole purpose of capturing any fiend and bringing it back alive. Even Rheinhardt couldn’t escape from twenty-four separate instances of the spell…could he?
“…Well, this is a pickle.”
Rheinhardt couldn’t even twitch a finger. Seeing this, Leon lunged.
It was time to go out in a blaze of glory.
Leon launched himself at Rheinhardt, concentrating on his own flank. Beneath his skin was a bomb Emilia had implanted. By channeling his Source into it, he could cause it to detonate, taking out his own life and hopefully Rheinhardt’s in the process.
In just three more steps, he would be within range. Leon knew there was no coming out of this alive…but that didn’t stop him. His mind was filled with thoughts of nothingness.
Two steps. Leon strode fluidly toward his goal.
One step. He cleared his mind of all distractions, his mental finger poised only upon the trigger.
Then, at last, he entered the bomb’s effective range. He concentrated on his torso, and channeled—
“…E…r…”
Just then, he hesitated as a voice rang in his mind. A tiny, almost imperceptible pause. However, at the height of this critical battle, that opening was fatal.
“Well, this I didn’t expect.”
Right at the height of that single instant, stretched out to an eternity, Rheinhardt blasted free of the twenty-four sets of chains that bound him. Everything happened so fast, there was no time to even be surprised.
Leon felt something strange in his abdomen. Something sharp, cutting into him. It was the angel’s wing; one of the three pairs sprouting from Rheinhardt’s back. By the time Leon realized what was happening, it was already too late.
There was a blinding flash of white light. Leon found himself thrown to the ground, with no memory of what had just happened. All he could recall was the resplendent sight of the angel’s six wings. Now he was on the verge of death, without even knowing how he got there.
Everything around him had vanished. A huge crater in the center of the Holy City, where nothing stood save for those two.
“Your plan was doomed the moment I set foot in this city,” Rheinhardt declared, looking down upon the ghoul squirming at his feet. “As soon as this became an urban battle, the Church was left with only one way to respond. To deploy their ultimate weapon; namely, you. It was inevitable that you would prove the centerpiece of their plan to destroy me. It doesn’t take much thinking to work out the rest.”
This was it. One fatal misstep, and the Church’s plan went up in smoke. There was nobody alive who could stop Rheinhardt now.
How did it come to this?
No answer came. Why had he faltered? It wasn’t fear; Leon was ready to lay down his life, whatever happened. Then why?
…Even Rheinhardt had been surprised by his hesitation.
“I really thought that was the end, to be honest… But I didn’t expect you to choke at the very last moment.”
His lips curled up in a grin. A derisive, mocking grin.
“Can’t say I blame you, though. Your crusade to kill me isn’t the only thing that’s grown stronger these past four years; your self-loathing has, too. It’s no wonder you thought, at the last minute, Is it really okay for a traitor like me to kill his best friend?”
Perhaps Rheinhardt was right. It was Leon’s fault his friend had turned out this way, and even if killing him was the only way to save him, murder was still a sin.
“Your mission and your right are not the same thing, are they, partner?”
To kill Rheinhardt, and thereby preserve his honor—that was the mission Leon had set for himself. But did he have the right to do that? After all, it was he who created Rheinhardt in the first place.
This was a question Leon had asked himself every day for the past four years, and never had he reached an answer. Perhaps that was why things had turned out this way.
“You just wanted forgiveness. You thought that by saving me, you could write your own sin off the books. That’s all you cared about.”
Rheinhardt kept talking, his voice now devoid of any passion whatsoever.
“Don’t kid yourself. You didn’t take your sadness and put it toward a righteous cause. All you’ve ever wanted is for me to put an end to the guilt.”
Leon could barely withstand the cold, affectionless glare coming from his friend—his brother. But Rheinhardt didn’t let up.