“Pacifica!” he shouted as he ran. Distracted by the sight of Pacifica being overpowered, and burdened with the girl he already carried in his arms, Shannon didn’t notice the stone pillars crumbling nearby.
Several of the larger fragments fell down toward Shannon. He saw them a bit too late, and his dodge suffered. One of the hurtling stones scraped across his back and threw off his balance.
Shannon choked in pain as he was knocked off his feet.
As Shannon fell, Elfitine was thrown out onto the stone floor. She hit the ground and skidded a bit, but she barely even noticed. She was still in a daze.
Reynard Ganvas. The kind, masked saint. The man who had given Elfitine hope and a reason to live. The man she… loved.
But the Reynard she loved was a fake.
The earth had fallen out from beneath her. Everything that had kept her going now sank into an ocean of meaninglessness. What would she do? What could she do? Reynard had inspired her life and dictated her choices. Without Reynard, she had no plans or wishes or dreams of her own. She had had his dream. He had been her dream.
She was exhausted. Reynard was dead. As she closed her eyes, the sound of crumbling rocks ringing in her ears, she made a silent wish.
Please, she thought. Just let it all end.
A sharp cry pierced through the rumbling. It took her a moment to recognize the voice, but when she did, a small flicker of feeling lit inside her heart.
“Pacifica?” she breathed.
Elfitine opened her eyes. Not far away, Pacifica struggled in the grip of a Berserker. Elfitine slowly registered the armor of light on Pacifica’s body—Elfitine had seen that same armor on Reynard—but it didn’t seem to be strong enough, as Pacifica was grimacing in pain. The young girl snarled and lashed out.
“Let go, you stupid… AGH!”
Pacifica was fighting. She was young, and small, but she still fought multiple opponents. Her sister’s aid was wrapped around her body, and her own fierce will drove her to keep battling.
The will… to fight. In a startling moment, Elfitine realized that she lacked that.
Had Elfitine ever fought? Had she ever once put up a fight? As her wide eyes locked on the struggling Pacifica, memories rushed through Elfitine’s brain. The final one was Reynard’s last personal struggle.
Pacifica suddenly seemed to notice Elfitine.
“Elfitine!” the girl screamed as she disappeared behind a Berserker.
Elfitine found herself jumping to her feet. A new daze gripped her—a surreal, sudden realization of what she had to do.
“Stay back!” Pacifica called from somewhere. “These guys are—AGH!”
The Berserker, it seemed, was squeezing Pacifica’s tiny body. Raquel was seated nearby, but she was focusing so deeply on something that she didn’t move a muscle. Shannon must have been hit hard, because he was sprawled on the ground nearby, looking anguished.
At that moment, the only one who could move was Elfitine. And she knew what she had to do.
I do want it to end, she thought. But I’m going to end it.
“Pacifica!”
Elfitine ran toward the girl who had offered her such kindness. Elfitine knew she was going to die, and she was ready to join her beloved, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. That was what Reynard had done, hadn’t he? He had fought the enemy within.
She had to die fighting. If she didn’t, he would be disappointed in her.
Elfitine threw her body against the Berserker who held her dear friend.
The place was nowhere.
Anti-Mauserist beliefs; Elfitine’s speeches; communal living—the combination of them all had formed a group will—and with drugs and hypnosis, it was molded into a shared-consciousness space. The minds of hundreds of people were shaped into a single mass and connected to the magic field to create a purely inner world.
If one were to ineffectually compare the scenery of the world of consciousness to an actual visual scene, it would resemble a desolate desert.
The islanders awaited their activation order in a sleep so deep, they could not dream. Their thoughts and emotions were temporarily frozen. If their minds were wiped blank, as had happened to Cuphon and Quart, the desert would be gone—replaced with absolutely nothing.
But that hadn’t happened. The people could still be saved. If Raquel could stop the activation from fully taking place, she could save their bodies and preserve their minds.
She began by using a communication spell to inject her own consciousness into the shared consciousness. A moment passed, and then a ripple shot through the islanders’ collective mind mass.
Waves of rejection washed up on all sides of her. Harsh winds blew, carrying emotions of denial. It was a reaction to foreign matter. Inside the shared consciousness, Raquel’s essence was foreign.
…You’ll have to excuse me. I promise I won’t be long.
Withstanding their pressure, Raquel began a detailed investigation of the world she had invaded.
The strategic level attack spell. It was most likely separated into parts, like the pieces of a puzzle, and stored inside the islanders’ heads in a compressed state. They were like seeds planted in the desert: until activation, the spells had no effect and thus didn’t interfere with the islanders’ minds. The islanders probably hadn’t noticed that the spells had even been there.
But once the activation order was made, the spells would decompress and go into action. Each part would fit into another, filling all the spaces that were missing, until a giant spell was formed.
There was no time to go around and erase the individual spells. Even if she could destroy pieces of the spell, the backup spells would just fill in the gaps that she created. She had to find the core—if she could find the central command of the spell and work backward, she could send an order to shut the entire spell down.
Suddenly, the shared consciousness began to rumble.
Oh, dear. Is it starting?
All of the compressed spells had started to activate. It was as though countless plants sprouted up in the desert, and hundreds of flowers were beginning to bloom. Petals unfolded in the shape of geometric patterns, brushing against one another as they grew into a large flower, bumping into surrounding flowers as they formed a giant garden. It was beautiful and terrible. And Raquel was running out of time.
I hope this works.
Raquel scattered around several Arborheim block spells. For a moment, the numerous flowers trembled. The flowers stopped growing as if covered in poison.
Raquel knew they would only be stunted for a short time. The flower garden Ginnungagap was too enormous, and Raquel was too small. She wasn’t sure she could find the core in time. It was a gamble with poor odds.
It’s inconvenient not to have a God to pray to in times like these, she thought as she searched the garden of hell.
“Pacifica!”
Elfitine knew she wasn’t very strong, but she still threw herself with all her might. She hit the Berserker with such force that she was afraid she’d snapped something inside her.
The Berserker lost his balance. Surprise, it seemed, had been an effective weapon. The Berserker lost his grip on Pacifica.
Unfortunately, Elfitine and the Berserker then crashed to the floor together.
Elfitine vaguely heard Pacifica cry out her name. Her eyes blurry, Elfitine looked up as the Berserker lurched to his feet. His attention was now on her. He raised a fist.
With his muscle capacity clearly at a maximum, the Berserker’s blow would probably break her neck. She didn’t have the speed to dodge it. She no longer even had the will.
I fought, was all she thought. I fought, didn’t I? As the fist swing down at her, the girl was overcome by an absolute calm.
She had fought of her own will. Not under anyone’s orders, and not for anyone’s sake. She had fought because she chose to.
That was all she needed.
“Good, Elfitine.”
Silver flashed across Elfitine’s vision. The fist plummeting toward her was suddenly removed from its arm, sent spinning through the air.
Her world still surreal, Elfitine turned her head. Shannon stood behind her, drenched in sweat. He raised his sword again.
A blade began to grow out of the Berserker’s bloody wrist stump. Shannon took a fighting stance, clearly ready to clash blades. He gritted his teeth.
But then, the rumbling halted.
Elfitine didn’t know what that meant. Had Raquel stopped it somehow while the rest of them had protected her? Shannon’s expression registered relief, but the soulless Berserker didn’t falter, still slashing him.
Shannon barely blocked in time. He was in an awkward stance, and he looked pained when his back twisted, so the Berserker’s attack threw off his balance. He stumbled to the ground as the Berserker advanced on him.
“Shannon!”
Pacifica screamed from somewhere. As if in slow motion, Elfitine watched as the girl sprinted for Shannon. The armor of light vanished from Pacifica once she reached a certain distance from Raquel, but that didn’t stop her from throwing her body over her brother’s.
The Berserker’s blade streaked through the air, now falling toward Pacifica’s shoulder. Elfitine’s breath caught in her throat.
“Blanketing my enemy is the queen of frost!”
Something whistled in the wind—the sound of air crying out as the pressure suddenly plunged. A white sparkle covered the Berserker.
It was snow… and frost. The frost multiplied at full speed, covering the Berserker’s body entirely. Before he could respond, the Berserker came to a full halt.
A moment. And then, after teetering, the Berserker fell to the ground with a thud. He had abruptly become a block of ice.
“Boy,” Raquel said as she brushed dirt from her cloak. “That was awfully close.”
Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—she didn’t sound very concerned.