“Hey! Why are you only attacking Papa?!” she yelled.
“Because it forces us to protect him!” Pyrovault said.
The bald man positioned himself next to Third and threw a large bottle at Karamori, who responded by yanking on Tyrfing’s chain. The sword flew back toward him and cut the bottle in two on the way before it could produce the desired effect. He dashed forward, grabbed Tyrfing’s handle, and tried to circle around Pyrovault and Third and get behind Asahi Fujinaka.
“Not so fast.”
Pyrovault moved to block his path and slammed the animal skull on the other end of his pole onto the ground at his feet. The impact shattered Duplicator Tree roots and caused black needle-like objects to shoot out of their cracks in all directions.
The needles flew at Karamori with explosive force, but he thrust Tyrfing into the ground and blocked them. The next moment, he jumped onto Tyrfing and used it as a platform to propel himself high into the air, clearing Pyrovault’s head. He yanked on the chains in midair to reclaim the sword, which arced toward Pyrovault as it flew to him.
“Shit!” Pyrovault cursed. He moved his neck a hairbreadth, having no time to do anything else, and the azure blade grazed his ear.
Karamori grabbed the sword, landed in a slide to avoid a vicious sweep of hair from Third, and closed in on Asahi Fujinaka.
“Oh dear,” the man said, seeming to realize he was actually in danger. He turned to run, but it was too late. Karamori overtook him in an instant and swung down with Tyrfing.
An ear-splitting clang followed. Third had gotten her hair in front of the blade just in time to save the old man. Karamori responded by spinning and using the centripetal force to swing the blade as hard as he could, managing to cut through a few centimeters of her hair. The white strands danced in the wind.
“What?! That’s impossible!” Third cried.
Karamori continued to persistently dog Asahi Fujinaka, focusing solely on him. This forced Third to protect the old man, leaving her little time to attack. Karamori’s relentless pursuit also introduced a clumsiness to her movement that wasn’t there before, likely due to her lack of combat experience. Karamori’s close proximity to Asahi Fujinaka meant that neither she nor Pyrovault could go all out for fear of hurting their master.
Karamori’s strategy was cold—dirty, even—and it limited Third and Pyrovault’s capabilities to the point that they might as well have been fighting in mud.
A fierce fight bloomed in the dead forest. A distorted fight filled with dancing blue sword, whirling white hair, and exploding flame.
Karamori was dogged in his pursuit. He matched Asahi Fujinaka’s movements step for step, even choosing to suffer blows from Third and Pyrovault rather than pause and let the man escape striking distance. It was an impossible balancing act, though, because he knew if he didn’t devote at least a little attention to defense, Third and Pyrovault would kill him in an instant.
He suddenly threw the azure sword. Pyrovault smiled savagely and lifted the road sign, likely thinking Karamori defenseless with only the chain in his hands. But before the bald man could swing his weapon, he went pale and ducked. The dark azure glow of the blade streaked through the spot where his head had just been.
Karamori skillfully looped the chain around a branch growing from a Duplicator Tree root, which altered Tyrfing’s trajectory so it swung at Pyrovault from behind. The bald man dodged and clenched his teeth in frustration.
Karamori wielded Tyrfing less like a sword and more like a kusarigama, making cunning, expert use of the chain as he sought to kill his opponents.
The thin sickle of a kusarigama would have been easy to deflect, but Tyrfing being on the end of the chains eliminated that concern. The blade’s distortion allowed it to cut through anything, regardless of the speed and strength with which it was swung.
The chains gave Karamori overwhelming reach and flexibility of strategy. All who faced him with the sword fully drawn felt like they were being hounded by blue death on all sides.
The injuries Pyrovault and Third were consistently inflicting on Karamori should have given them a clear advantage. And yet, cold sweat beaded their faces. They both possessed superhuman strength but couldn’t defeat one young man with a sword. Multiple times during the battle, they were confident they were about to kill him, only for Karamori to escape the jaws of death by the skin of his teeth and keep fighting.
It was eerie. Pyrovault, Third, and Asahi Fujinaka couldn’t help but be unsettled by Shin Karamori.
Another piercing clang sounded as Karamori sliced through a fist of hair that Third swung at him. The hair fluttered to the ground. Cutting Third’s hair may have appeared pointless, but it was her weapon, and he was chipping away at her fighting strength.
He was increasing his chances of winning. Steadily. Unemotionally. Mechanically.
Violent flames erupted around Karamori, ignited by Pyrovault the moment the young man fell far enough behind Asahi Fujinaka. The flames rose as tall as a barn, painting the landscape red.
But when the fire cleared, Karamori crawled out from beneath a triangle-shaped hole he’d cut into a Duplicator Tree root. He’d made a shelter for himself, having decided he couldn’t avoid the flames.
Karamori got to his feet and stared at the three of them, his eyes devoid of anything but malice.
“Papa, there’s something wrong with him!” Third shouted.
Asahi Fujinaka frowned. “Pyrovault. Stop. We’re retreating. I can’t afford for Third to lose any more hair.”
“Screw that,” Pyrovault spat. “You may not have a reason to kill him, but I do.”
“I thought you said you take your job seriously.”
“…Tsk.”
Pyrovault looked unhappy, but he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Flames shot up around him, Third, and the restrained Archive, and they were all teleported to Asahi Fujinaka.
Karamori, driven by the sword’s bloodlust, couldn’t care less that they thought they were done fighting. He rushed at the group, completely devoid of emotion.
“Farewell for now,” Asahi Fujinaka said. “How many people will you have killed by the time you regain consciousness, I wonder.”
“…!”
The small sliver of Karamori that was left in his mind panicked. If he let them get away, he would be forced to hunt down and kill Fujinaka. He had to avoid that at all costs.
Yet his limbs moved of their own accord. Bloodlust overpowered his rational mind.
Pyrovault punched the earth, and blue flames appeared around the four people, who began to fade. However, just before they vanished completely, Archive took a step forward. The surprised expressions of Asahi Fujinaka and the others were visible for a mere moment before they disappeared, leaving only Archive behind.
The blue sword sliced through her flesh, sending blood arcing through the night.
Her form blurred, just like it had earlier when she’d disobeyed the book.
As Archive’s blood spattered, she lifted her string before her eyes.
“Coffin.”
Ten coffins appeared around Karamori, and a Half-wit crawled from each one. They sank into the ground, becoming pictures that swam toward Karamori.
The young man’s face didn’t even flinch at their unexpected arrival. They emerged from below and attacked him, each one made of dirt, but azure trails streaked through the air as Karamori easily slaughtered them. With each kill, the mark on his arm receded.
Archive’s form wavered violently as she watched; it looked like she could disappear at any moment. She spoke to the young man possessed by the sword, her face scrunched up in agony.
“It has all…been decided. In five hours, I…will be killed by you… That is my fate.”
“…!”
Karamori’s blade stilled momentarily as the tiny piece of him that was still conscious reacted to her words. However, that was the last thing Archive said before she faded into nothingness as if she had never been there at all.
He resumed swinging his sword, and once he’d butchered six more Half-wits, Karamori finally returned to his senses. He killed the remaining monsters while in his right mind, and only then was he able to stop.
Karamori looked around. He saw a dead forest ravaged by the ferocious battle—the investigators’ corpses lying in pools of their own blood. And…
“Karamori…”
…Hitsugi Fujinaka.
Karamori sheathed his sword and punched the ground.
He couldn’t do a damn thing on his own. He relied solely on the sword, and even then, he had to be saved by Archive. After all this time, he remained a slave to his sword, unable to resist the rushing current of fate it imposed upon him. He was powerless.
Wind blew through the forest, brushing up against death and regret. It was no comfort to Karamori, nor did it carry away the smallest piece of his sorrow. All the fleeting wind did was blow through his hollow heart.