Before long, the area was covered in snow, turning the shattered, gouged cityscape into a world of pure white. Not a single blemish marred the scene. Amid this beautiful landscape, a man appeared.
He stood in the land of Jabar as if he had always been there, having materialized out of nowhere. He wore a refined three-piece suit, and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with white was visible beneath his fedora.
The distinguished middle-aged man looked down at Tsushima, who was buried beneath the snow, and muttered something in exasperation.
“Why do young people always have to be so reckless?”
Placing his hands on his hips, he continued staring at the unconscious man, waiting for a reply. But Tsushima said nothing in return, which came as no surprise. Having fought two fierce battles back-to-back, he was as close to death as one could be.
“What are we gonna do with you?” the man murmured, as if he were a parent scolding a child. He reached for Tsushima’s legs.
But then he stopped.
He noticed the presence of a woman who had appeared just as silently as he had.
Straightening up, the man tipped his hat in greeting.
“Well, well, a knight of His Majesty the Emperor. What brings you all this way?”
The woman was dressed in dazzling traditional attire, her hair adorned with many ornaments, and she wore lacquered platform sandals with unusually high soles. From behind a beautifully carved, doll-like mask, she spoke in a voice as delicate as a butterfly.
“I came hither, for I did feel thy presence.”
“Oh? I was trying to arrive quietly enough not to be noticed.”
“There is none other such as thee. Thou wouldst do well to be more mindful of it,” she said smoothly, in a tone almost like singing, then lightly covered her mouth as she laughed. The man in front of her smiled as well.
“Hearing that from you makes me blush.”
Their conversation may have seemed carefree, but these two held the fate of the world in their hands. The man was Ayman Droog, famed as the mightiest person in Elbar, and the woman was Amanomikami, the sole knight of the current emperor. The two strongest people in the world—the only two level-thirteen Informationists on the planet—had crossed paths in this remote place.
“For what purpose hast thou come here today?” Amanomikami asked.
Somewhat hesitantly, Ayman pointed at Tsushima lying at his feet.
“I had to step in to take this guy back with me. I’ve got no intention of fighting—but how about you?”
“I have been beset by tedium as of late.”
“…”
“…”
It took Ayman a moment to process what Amanomikami meant. She’d always had a unique way of perceiving things, so communicating with her was often a challenge.
Even now, he had needed to mentally translate her words to make sense of the exchange.
Apparently, Amanomikami had taken an interest in Tsushima. That was understandable, as he had single-handedly defeated two of the Six Imperial Swords. It made sense someone of her stature would be intrigued by him.
Ayman cleared his throat and held out his palm to keep Amanomikami at bay.
“Sorry, but I can’t hand him over to you. I’m sure that won’t be a surprise to your emperor.”
“Verily, that matter pertaineth not to me.”
Amanomikami gave a slight curtsy, her movements graceful. Ayman continued to explain, his expression troubled.
“The emperor had a hand in how this all turned out, too. I’m sure me coming here to retrieve Tsushima is all part of the plan. And the emperor isn’t a fan of having his schemes go off-script, is he? I’ve got no guarantees about what’ll happen if things get complicated here.”
“Is that so? Then who can say how I’ll be received if I intervene?” Amanomikami murmured in her usual unhurried, gentle tone, catching a snowflake falling from the sky in her palm. She gazed at the flake resting on her unnaturally pale skin, then gently cupped it with both hands.
“Tell me, is that fair youth one who might yet stand on our side?” she asked.
“Maybe, but it’s too soon to say.”
Hearing Ayman’s reply, Amanomikami walked gracefully across the snow toward him, her sandals swaying back and forth with each step. As the pleasant sound of her footsteps closed the distance between them, the air filled with tension.
She came up to the near-dead Tsushima, then released the snowflake.
The bit of snow became a single droplet, shining like a diamond as it fell onto Tsushima.
The droplet melted the snow that had piled up on his back, before it made contact with his body, producing a faint sound as it seeped into him.
After a few seconds of silence, Tsushima’s breathing suddenly increased in volume, as if he were a drowned man who had washed ashore, gasping for air.
“’Tis never amiss to have more men of worth, I say.”
Turning around, Amanomikami glanced over her shoulder at Ayman and fixed him with a bewitching gaze.
She had used some sort of healing ability. Though Tsushima had suffered severe injuries to both his brain and body, he was now recovering, even if he had not yet regained consciousness.
Ayman removed his fedora and gave a slight bow.
“You have my thanks for your consideration.”
“Think nothing of it. ’Twas but a trifle, done whilst I tended to my own affairs.”
With that, Amanomikami moved with her usual languid grace and lifted Finé, who had also been buried under the snow. Like Tsushima, she was terribly wounded, her survival uncertain.
When Ayman saw that Finé was still alive, his expression grew stern.
“She needs to die here. That’s what your emperor wants.”
At what could be taken as a warning from Ayman, Amanomikami tilted her head slightly. It was clear from her demeanor this was of no concern to her.
“Does he now? I comprehend it not. This woman is my dear junior. To let her die would stir my heart with sorrow.”
Beneath her mask, a glimmer of light appeared in Amanomikami’s eyes. Seeing this, Ayman quietly raised both hands—a gesture to show he had no intention of escalating things any further.
Amanomikami gracefully shifted her posture and effortlessly took Finé in her arms, then gave Ayman a meaningful glance.
“Until we meet anon.”
“Yeah. Take care now.”
With their farewells exchanged, she vanished, enveloped in the blue glow of information factors. Ayman relaxed only after confirming she was completely gone, then looked down at Tsushima.
“You’re one lucky bastard,” Ayman muttered with a hint of affection in his voice, despite the grumbling tone.
He roughly turned Tsushima onto his back and grabbed him by one leg, dragging him along.
Like a corpse, Tsushima didn’t move an inch as he was dragged across the snow. Ayman whistled as he walked, executing a Code that tore open space-time to create a new dimension.
Then Ayman and Tsushima passed into the shimmering, mirage-like rift.
After they departed, all that remained were the falling snow and the mountain landscape. No one was there. There had never been anyone there. It was just empty scenery.