The Half-wits slid rapidly toward Pyrovault. They leaped from the carpet and walls and chopped at him with their arms.
“Word of advice: If you become the material you emerge from, you really shouldn’t pop outta the walls and carpet.” The monsters’ blows failed to penetrate Pyrovault’s coat, and he responded by pulling numerous vials out of his pockets and throwing them in all directions. “And fully emerging was a big mistake.”
Pyrovault smirked as the glass vials shattered, releasing swirling flames that instantly lit the Half-wits on fire. It burned them all up before they had time to sink back into the ground and become pictures again.
Black ash fluttered down through the room like falling cherry blossoms.
“Now then, where were w—?”
This time, he was interrupted by the shattering of the window.
Shin Karamori burst into the room, swinging his golden scabbard horizontally as he landed.
“How’d you get here so quickly?!” Pyrovault yelled, raising his arm and easily blocking the scabbard with a clang. The arm he’d blocked the blow with was covered in what looked to be the same metal his anchor was made of. “Can’t you just let me have this one, Vanit Slayer? The early bird gets the worm and all that?”
“As if I’d give him to the kind of scum who would turn an entire town’s population into jewels for money!”
“Ha, I remember that like it was yesterday!”
Pyrovault delivered a slashing kick to Karamori’s stomach, making his face contort in pain, then grabbed the younger man’s head and threw him out the window with incredible strength. Karamori fell toward the garden, surrounded by glass fragments. He landed gracefully and looked up to see Pyrovault jump down after him.
A gigantic shadow made of text descended on the man’s head. Archive had caught up. She had twisted her red string into a shape symbolizing an elephant’s foot.
“Don’t interfere, girlie!”
Pyrovault effortlessly dodged the leg of text and thrust a hand into his opposite sleeve. The black coat swallowed his arm up like a swamp, and when he withdrew it, he was holding a blue glass vial. He threw it at Archive, and it exploded into red flames that threatened to engulf both her and Fujinaka by her side.
“…! Ms. Fujinaka!” Archive cried out, panic written across her face. She formed her string into the shape of a basket and pointed it at the trembling Fujinaka just before the scorching flames wrapped around them both.
“You should know better than to challenge me while most of your power is being diverted elsewhere,” Pyrovault said.
“Fujinaka! Archive!” Karamori yelled.
“I’m not gonna kill them. That brown-haired girl has a real nice distortion. I want her for myself.”
“You bastard!”
Karamori pounced at Pyrovault like a beast, his hair standing on end. The larger man pulled his anchor out of his coat with an unwavering smile and used it to fend him off. Karamori continued swinging Tyrfing with reckless abandon, even trying to attack with the chains extending from the pommel, but Pyrovault blocked every blow with his anchor and flames. Until, eventually…
“…!”
An invisible slash split Karamori’s shoulder open. Pyrovault used the opportunity to pull an orange vial out of his coat and break it, freeing multiple birds made of flame that swooped at Karamori. The younger man struck down as many as he could with the chains and scabbard, but a few got through and collided into his abdomen. This slowed him down, and Pyrovault fiercely pressed him by swinging his anchor, which nicked Karamori on the neck as he dodged.
Drops of blood flew through the air, which was heavy with malice. A sharp pain made Karamori pull his arm back by reflex, and he saw that his palm had been cut by an invisible slash. While he was distracted, a torrent of flame assaulted his right side.
“Gaaaaah!”
The intense flames burned through not only Karamori’s jacket but his special bodysuit, exposing much of his skin from his right shoulder down.
Karamori backed up and regrouped. He studied his right arm, which was trembling from the agony. There were signs of internal bleeding and burns, but he could still move it.
His eyes drifted unwillingly to the blue-black mark between his right elbow and wrist.
“Hah… Haaah…”
The footsteps of death approaching echoed in his ears.
It was clear this man was far stronger than him. He had no chance in this fight.
Pyrovault walked toward him, saying something that Karamori couldn’t make out. He seemed so big, so imposing, wearing that black coat which made him look like the grim reaper.
Karamori’s breathing felt impossibly loud. The aches and pains throughout his body had fried his brain.
A sluggish thought arose to the forefront of his mind.
Am I going to die here?
There was only one way he’d make it through this. But if he did that…
Just then, the voice of a small child whispered in his ear.
“Stop resisting, Shin… Your wish was to live, right? So just do that. You have to live.”
Karamori’s eyes quivered, and his breathing grew ragged. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and a bead of red ran down his chin.
Shut up. I can’t draw it! There has to be another way! There has to be…!
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll make sure to find a proper use for those two girls.”
The light faded from Karamori’s eyes.
Pyrovault ran toward him and raised his anchor. There were no openings in his guard, and he moved with the speed of a true master.
To beat him, you would need the speed of a god.
The man swung the anchor down.
As sparks flew between the weapons, Karamori drew Tyrfing from its scabbard.
A split second later, Pyrovault’s right arm went flying through the air.
It had been severed along with the sleeve of his coat, still holding the anchor, and left a spray of blood in its wake.
Pyrovault’s mind was slow to catch up.
Karamori had vanished before his very eyes, and all the one-armed man could sense now was a demonic presence behind his back.
Groaning, he turned to see a dark figure with the red evening sun at its back. The kid wasn’t just dark because he was backlit; an unsettling black mark shaped like flames had grown to cover his entire exposed arm and his face.
Strangely, the sword in his hands reflected no sunlight, remaining a dull blue. Yet it appeared to be so sharp that no blood could stick to it. Something about that contradiction made the sword feel overpoweringly sinister.
“It’s the azure sword…!” Pyrovault said, his grin widening.