“Coffin,” she said with a voice soft enough to ride the wind. Eight black coffins appeared around Karamori. As he expected, one-eyed Half-wits that she had captured smashed through the coffin lids and flew out of them. They gathered around Archive’s giant. They appeared to be under her command.
Karamori now found himself facing a dirt giant and a crowd of Half-wits, all enhanced by Distortionism. At this point, he stood very little chance of killing Archive even if he wanted to. Without drawing Tyrfing, that is.
“If you are afraid to draw Tyrfing, do not be. As you already know, the Half-wits satisfy the sword’s bloodlust… And you will be doing them a favor,” Archive said coldly. Before Karamori could respond, she lifted her string. “Meteor Shower.”
A small star-filled night swirled into existence above her head, out of which large rocks rained on Karamori. They fell with the force of cannonballs, each large enough to wrap one’s arms around.
“Damn…!”
Deciding immediately that he wouldn’t be able to dodge all the falling rocks, Karamori turned and ran. He stayed just ahead of the rocks as they tore up the land behind him. He hid behind a crumbling ruin, but it proved an unreliable shield when one meteor easily broke through it. Rubble sliced his cheeks as he hid behind more objects and swung his sword to deflect as many rocks as he could.
Archive half closed her eyes from atop her giant.
“I am fated to die today.”
One of the meteors reached Karamori too quickly for him to dodge. He quickly raised Tyrfing’s scabbard to block it, and the meteor smashed into it with an ear-splitting screech. The rock was much too fast and massive for him to deflect it completely, but he managed to twist his body out of the way and avoid getting hit. Right afterward, he heard a concerning rupturing sound accompanied by a vibration in his hands; that was the sound of Tyrfing’s scabbard cracking.
“…”
Karamori looked down at the sword, his eyes wide. The scabbard was wooden with a gold coat of paint. It was unusually strong but not impossible to break.
Archive twisted her string into a new shape and shot a net of black text at Karamori. He instinctively slashed at it with his scabbard but immediately realized that was a mistake.
The black net dug into the scabbard. The crack expanded and decorative jewels and wood chips scattered in all directions.
Archive’s cool voice reached his ears.
“Fate gets its name because it is unavoidable.”
Just then, Tyrfing’s scabbard shattered.
The azure blade was exposed. That blade—which reflected light dully as if covered in miasma—was ruthlessness embodied. There was nothing it wouldn’t cut.
Regret filled Karamori’s eyes. That emotion was quickly overridden by bloodlust, and his dark flame-shaped mark burned across his skin until it covered his entire body.
He quickly tore apart the net of text and slashed through all other attacks heading his way. His speed and skill were so transcendent that he didn’t look human. A murderous intent propelled him.
In a flash, he slayed multiple Half-wits and dashed up the giant Archive was riding, slicing it up on the way.
Naturally, killing a few Half-wits was not enough to return him to sanity.
Karamori easily dodged Archive’s counterattack and jumped up to eye level with her. His approach activated multiple Distortionist traps, but he cut them all down, leaving Archive completely defenseless.
It was kill or be killed. And yet, they were both completely expressionless. There was no one present to feel the terrible cruelty of this situation.
Azure streaked toward the book and the blond girl beneath it.
A single tear rolled down both of their blank faces.
The interior of Asahi Fujinaka’s workshop was nigh on unrecognizable. The paths between the sloppily installed machinery had been piled high with miscellaneous junk, which was mostly made up of colorful empty vials. There were also road signs, animal skulls, and all kinds of other objects.
It was piled highest around two of the room’s occupants.
“Well, that was easy,” said the bald man.
He held a limply dangling Third by the neck. Her orange dress had been stained with blood, and her hair had been burned to shoulder length. It continued to burn even now.
“How dare you…turn on Papa…”
“Beating me up won’t help him now, dolly.”
“Shut…up… I can’t…do nothing…after you killed…my Papa…”
A small bundle of Third’s short hair turned sharp as a needle and stabbed at Pyrovault. A wall of fire appeared and obstructed it.
Pyrovault smiled boldly.
“Guess I might as well help myself to your distortion, too.”
He squeezed her neck tighter, causing her face to scrunch with pain. Her head glowed red, and text appeared on it. Those letters marched into Pyrovault’s arm as if they were alive.
“Urk…”
Third was so beaten up that all she could do was groan. The more her hair burned, the more her life’s light faded. When her eyes started to glaze—
—something sharp sliced through the wind near the workshop’s entrance. Pyrovault looked in that direction just as the door, which had been cut out of the wall around it, was kicked down.
A young man with a naked blue sword walked through, sunlight at his back.
Pyrovault burst out laughing.
“Ha! You came! I take it you killed the girl?” he taunted.
Large, round tears streamed from the young man’s eyes.
Pyrovault tossed Third aside as if she was a bag of garbage. Helpless to slow herself in the air, she crashed through the workshop wall and fell to the ground outside.
The young man—Shin Karamori—looked around the workshop. His eyes paused on Asahi Fujinaka, who was sitting by the wall injured and barely breathing. He frowned.
“…What happened here?” Karamori asked.
“Oh-ho. You’ve managed to stay sane with the sword drawn? …No, I guess you’ve killed enough to return to sanity,” Pyrovault said.
“…”
Karamori didn’t respond. Pyrovault held out his metal hand to show him a ball of red liquid packed with words sitting in his palm.
“This is Asahi Fujinaka’s greatest masterpiece: a book that can Compile the world’s distortions,” he said.
“…!”
Karamori’s mind went temporarily blank from the shock.
Such an invention would let its owner obtain any of the world’s twisted phenomena. Tyrfing, The Archive, Untitled… If the book could be controlled after obtaining the distortions of powerful vanits like those, it would be incredibly dangerous.
No one person could be allowed to have that much power.
Karamori’s eyes sharpened as he looked at Pyrovault.
“Ha-ha-ha, just the reaction I expected. You know you have to stop me. I wouldn’t have it any other way! Let’s settle things, once and for all!”
Pyrovault stored the liquid text in his coat and forcefully swung his right arm. Bright-red flames then erupted from his back and formed into wings.
“We’re fightin’ to the death, Vanit Slayer.”
He had used Force to imbue himself with the distortion from his vials, giving him the ability to produce and manipulate flames at will. Spots on his flaming wings darkened and fire birds shot out of them. There were nearly twenty of them.
Karamori immediately drew his gun and shot at them, but the bullets had no effect. That left him no choice but to swing Tyrfing and slice apart the first fire bird that reached him, but—
“…!”
The severed pieces of the bird flared and exploded. The explosion itself was small, but the flames instantly burned Karamori’s skin. Even so, he used his superhuman speed to avoid a direct hit.
He had no time to rest as two more fire birds dove at him. He got low and skillfully severed their wings. They both produced small explosions as well, but he easily dodged them.
“Nicely done, kid!”
Pyrovault dashed through the explosive flames, catching Karamori completely off guard. He thrust a sword made of fire at Karamori’s back, who only had time to slightly twist his body to try to avoid it. The fire sword passed through his right arm and torso and stabbed into the floor.
Karamori fell to the floor, and without even waiting to regain his balance, he stabbed Tyrfing upward at Pyrovault’s heart. His blade, however, did not reach his opponent’s chest. It was forced to a halt right before letters appeared on Pyrovault’s coat, spelling the word STOP. The road sign’s distortion now resided within the coat.
Karamori scowled and retreated to give himself distance. The spot on the floor that the fire sword stabbed into burst aflame, sending up a column of smoke.
Pyrovault watched him and spread his arms wide.
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got no desire to finish you off with nothin’ but ranged magic tricks. We’ve gotta make this fun!” he yelled, beginning to run at Karamori before he finished speaking. Fire birds spawned from his flaming wings as he charged.
Karamori swung Tyrfing at the fire sword, but the flames had no substance and the azure blade passed ineffectually through it. The fire birds then dove and exploded, bathing him in bright-red flames and knocking him off his feet. The explosions blasted pieces off of nearby apparatuses and started multiple fires.
Karamori tumbled to the floor. Smoke rose from his burned cheeks. He would have been burnt to a crisp by now if not for his special full-body Canary suit.
An uninjured Pyrovault emerged from the inferno that was now burning in the workshop. He paid no heed to the flames surrounding him, his face a mesh of beastlike ferocity and a mad smile unique to humanity.
Pyrovault repeatedly slashed his fire sword with impossible speed, giving Karamori only two options: defend or dodge. The swooping, exploding fire birds made sure he never had a moment to collect himself. The amount of blasts and fires in the workshop made it sound like a miniature war was taking place.
Karamori fought desperately, blood from his wounds boiling as they fell through the air and thoughts blazing in his head. A cut on his forehead bled down his face. His eyes flared as they searched for a means of survival, but they found nothing.
His meager counters were halted by the word on the coat, and his full-strength kicks did nothing. He slashed, lunged, and leaped—his sword a blur as he fought back—but he couldn’t turn the fight in his favor. Pyrovault’s onslaught was so overwhelming that it was actually remarkable that Karamori was able to survive it with one sword.