—The instant that presence descended onto the street, breathing stopped.
Not anyone’s. It was the world’s breath that stopped. The strongest in the Vollachia Empire, with whom he’d once had the chance to speak, said this to Garfiel, who wanted to know the creed that supported that out-of-bounds strength.
『Namely, the world is a stage! The sunlight, the sound of the wind, the scent of the earth, the richness of green—everything is nothing but a set of devices to make the actors shine. Then why does the world go so far as to deck the actors out in such splendor and color? Because none other than the world itself is the super, mega fan whose hopes soar the most for the actors’ blocking, their performances, their famous lines, their iconic scenes!』
That line of thought departs rather sharply from common sense and, to be honest, was quite hard to understand. But just for this moment, it feels as if one can grasp a fragment of the logic the “Blue Lightning” proclaimed so loudly—that the world looks upon people as if enjoying a play.
Which is why, now, it was plain as day that the world had held its breath.
「――――」
Behind them, with the tall rampart that separated the nobles’ quarter from the commoners’ at their backs, Garfiel and the others—blocking the road that stretched out before them stood a man with blazing red hair and sky-blue eyes. Not standing, but standing in the way. Yes—the man was standing in the way.
「Reinhard, is it? …Of all the pursuers I can think of, you’re the worst.」
「I think so too, Otto. It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this.」
The shock of astonishment—the first to regain his senses from it was, as expected of someone with one of the steadiest nerves in their camp, Otto. Even to Otto’s murmur, unable to fully suppress his emotions, the man who answered—Reinhard van Astrea, the “Sword Saint”—did not deny the description of pursuer.
With his hand resting on the hilt of the “Dragon Sword” at his waist, he narrowed his sky-blue eyes slightly,
「An order for your capture has been issued from the royal castle. I ask that you surrender.」
「And if we refuse, you’ll use force?」
「That’s what it will come to. It isn’t my intention… No—my feelings don’t matter.」
「Right. What matters isn’t where one’s heart lies, but the outcome of one’s actions.」
As he spoke, Otto gradually heightened the tension running through his entire body. By contrast, from the instant he appeared, nothing about the air Reinhard wore changed at all. He had already settled on how he would act. And once he decides to do so, he sees that will through—and can do it: that is what a “Sword Saint” is.
「—Reinhard, was it? You said you received orders from the royal castle; do you know what has become of Elder Sister and Emilia?」
At that, Rem spoke up from just behind and to the side of Garfiel. With Garfiel and Otto having stepped forward, Rem stood behind them, shielding Petra and Meili—who had instinctively huddled together at her shoulders—with her arms, fixing Reinhard with a stouthearted stare. The answer to Rem’s question was something Garfiel wanted to know as well. Otto, who had swiftly decided to leave the Royal Hall, likely foresaw this situation.
「Unfortunately, I have not met the two of them inside the castle. I do, however, understand the circumstances by which they were summoned there. They are likely being detained.」
「They haven’t been treated roughly… have they?」
「They have not. At the very least, I can guarantee that no such conduct would come from the soldiers of the Kingdom. Emilia and Ram would not make the careless choice to let the commotion spread, either.」
「—I see. Thank you for answering.」
At the very end—even as she gave them information that would be reassuring for Garfiel and the others—Rem did not forget to add that little bit of poison, and Reinhard closed one eye at her. But the truth was in what Otto had said. What mattered was not feelings, but actions.
「Reinhard, this situation has clearly been set up. The suspicions toward Natsuki and Lady Crusch, the containment of our Emilia faction… even Felt isn’t in a safe zone. And even so—」
「—I am the “Sword Saint”.」
「――――」
「I bear the role of the Kingdom’s sword and will fulfill the duty I’ve been assigned. I warn you again: surrender. Even if you’re escorted to the royal castle, you will not be treated poorly. I will also do everything I can—」
「How persuasive do you think your words are, standing here as you are now?」
Otto’s resolute answer pierced into Reinhard, who kept his expression and voice steady as he called for their surrender. It wasn’t only Otto’s view; it was the will of all five of them, Garfiel included. However eloquent he might be, he was standing there to block their way.
「—It seems you and I won’t be able to be friends.」
「Yes. I had a feeling it would come to that.」
That was the conclusion of the talk between Otto and Reinhard, meant to bend the other's thinking. By a strange turn, both reached the same conclusion—that spending any more words would be pointless.
In fact, Otto's judgment is accurate. Now that Reinhard has caught up, the people at the royal castle must also know that Garfiel and the others are here. If the number of pursuers increases, the avenues of escape will vanish, and if even Marcos starts to move, that possibility will narrow all the more.
「No other soldiers are coming. I've ordered a cordon, but I'm the only one here」
「…May I ask why that is?」
「I don't want to cause needless casualties. I don't intend to underestimate the soldiers' level of training, but I don't intend to make light of you either. That's also why I took on this duty」
「So that we don't end up injuring the soldiers?」
「And also to prevent a situation where you get hurt. If it's me, I can do that」
Taking over from Otto, who had closed off that avenue, Rem kept the exchange going, and Reinhard answered her. The instant that answer was spoken, a prickling sensation as if the world bristled raced through the Royal Capital. Reinhard's intent—his conviction—came across painfully clearly.
However—no, absolutely—that is out of the question.
「――I've been sittin' quiet and listenin' to Bro Otto and Rem talk for a good long while, but there's stuff in what you're sayin' I just can't nod along to, oi」
「Can't agree?」
With crack-crack of knuckles, Garfiel strapped silver gauntlets onto both arms. At the『Sword Saint』narrowing his eyes at Garfiel's stance, Garfiel gnashed his fangs with an「Aa.」He understood the intent behind Reinhard coming alone to hold Garfiel and the others in check. The idea of not wanting to produce unnecessary casualties was something Garfiel agreed with. Even so, he didn't like it. Because—
「For all your talk about not lookin' down on us, ain't there one thought missin'? —That right here! You! Are gonna get! Beat to a pulp! By yours truly!」
In that instant, the roaring Garfiel pushed off the street and lunged at Reinhard. Seeing him step in, what flickered across Reinhard's eyes was not the color of surprise or wariness.
「——」
What flickered was the bitter hue of accepting Garfiel's decision. A gaze of pity, like seeing someone make an obviously wrong choice—not a child who broke a vase apologizing to his parents, but seeing him bury the shards beneath the soil.
At Reinhard, whose eyes held that pained color, Garfiel smashed his fist. It was the same form as that single exchange in Priestella when Garfiel first encountered Reinhard—pressed by his presence, he had lunged reflexively. As Garfiel's downward blow fell, Reinhard raised his right arm. His spread five fingers caught the iron-hard fist, and the easy deflection—
「—!?」
—does not occur.
「Oooooo—!!」
Howling, Garfiel set his whole body into motion, forcibly refusing to let his power bleed off. The impact exploded along the arm Reinhard had taken it with; the sleeve of the『Sword Saint』's white garment burst, and the energy he couldn't deflect spiderwebbed the ground at his feet with cracks. And at Reinhard, eyes widening at a blow beyond what he had imagined, Garfiel bared his fangs with a「Hah!」and grinned as if to show them off,
「Don't go thinkin' everyone but you is gonna keep ploddin' along forever!!」
A dropkick—knees tucked then snapped out—slammed into the center of Reinhard's crossed arms, and the shockwave it triggered savagely tore through a corner of the Royal Capital.
—It felt like I heard the world clap its hands and shout for joy at that opening of hostilities.
△▼△▼△▼△
Petra kept staring at the fight that had begun, her small hands clenched tight.
Garfiel's roaring, surging offensive had the very ferocity of a beast itself—arms, legs, claws, and fangs, every part of him was a weapon with which to bite down on his opponent's throat. Yet that overwhelming flurry of blows, almost impossible to follow with the eyes, Reinhard, facing him, was deflecting for the most part with a raised arm and by slipping his body aside. —But what he could deflect was only most of it, and the aftershocks he couldn't completely turn aside could reach beyond.
「Garfiel, you're amazing… you're holding your own…!」
Before she knew it, what spilled from Petra’s lips was praise for the struggling Garfiel. Petra, too, was a citizen of the Kingdom, and the out-of-scale nature of the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard had reached her ears since the days when she was just a village girl. In the Kingdom, it’s said that even if you don’t know the king’s name, you know the name of the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard—he is that renowned. Once, when the 'Sword Saint'—younger then than Petra is now—singlehandedly crushed the ambition behind an incident in which the three great nations other than Lugunica simultaneously sought to infiltrate the Kingdom, that achievement struck hope into the hearts of many of its people and hammered into the common folk the awe-inspiring might of the current 'Sword Saint'.
Even in Arlam Village, Petra’s hometown, that 'Sword Saint' was an object of admiration among the boys, and Petra, as one of the girls who dreamed, had not entirely failed to imagine a romantic Cinderella story. —Though, for Petra, her prince was a boy utterly unlike the 'Sword Saint' rumored in flowery phrases—simply the most wonderful boy in his own right.
Be that as it may, to Petra—who became connected to that living legend, the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard, in the form of opposing camps in the Royal Selection—his being beyond all bounds was more than she had imagined; anything she’d heard in rumors, when faced with the real thing, was nothing but the product of a child’s clumsy fantasies. —On the way back from the Pleiades Watchtower, seeing him in person, Petra felt that in her very skin.
That is why, faced with Garfiel taking that extraordinary being head-on, Petra felt an incongruous thrill, even pride.
"Tch, nobody will listen to me...!"
Grinding his teeth with a creak, the one scattering his awareness evenly in all directions is Otto. While devoting attention to the fight between Garfiel and Reinhard, Otto is desperately trying to find a way to break the deadlock using the 'Blessing of Soul Language'. Yet his mutter points to the absence of any creatures he can rely on—the fact that his groundwork, by which he usually, in any land, shrewdly secures not collaborators but cooperative entities, has fallen flat. In the first place, the reason they were caught up to by Reinhard here was, in his words, because he was "tricked by bugs." But it’s hard to believe the insects deceived Otto with malice and led him into a trap. In other words, something exists—on the opposing side, someone who, like Otto, or with even greater compulsion than Otto, has a way to command the insects. Namely—
"—Like Meili’s blessing."
With Meili, pressed close enough that their shoulders touched, at the edge of her vision, Petra thus guessed the method used by the one who had outmaneuvered Otto.
Otto’s 'Blessing of Soul Language' has seen a wide range of use, but that owes more to Otto’s own capability in wielding it than to the blessing’s inherent performance. The 'Blessing of Soul Language' only allows him to talk with all living things; whether he can secure their cooperation is the fruit of Otto’s own negotiating and coordinating abilities. Until now, Petra and the others had relied entirely on Otto’s personal talent for that part. If their opponent had someone who, like Meili can control witchbeasts, possessed a means to subdue living things unconditionally, that advantage would be easily lost.
"Petra, if it really comes to it..."
"—Absolutely not."
Right beside her, Petra firmly cut off the words Meili had started to whisper. What Meili had been about to propose was, given they couldn’t rely on the 'Blessing of Soul Language', preparing a way for them to influence the situation—in short, relying on Meili’s blessing. However, while that would certainly be a move capable of changing things, it was at the same time far too sharp a double-edged sword.
"If you summon witchbeasts, Meili, there’s no taking it back. People will say the villain Subaru of the Witch Cult had the 'witchbeast user' Meili as his ally. They’ll think Emilia is connected to the 'Witch'... the 'Witch of Envy,' too."
"But even the 'Sword Saint' guy is here, you know? The people at the castle have already—"
"No, that’s not it. It’s not the people at the castle we can’t let think that—it’s the people of the Royal Capital... the people of the Kingdom."
"——"
"Just like how we believe in Subaru, the people who were helped by Subaru and Emilia will think this is all wrong. We have to make sure we preserve that possibility."
It’s true that this very moment is a crisis, but if we stop choosing our means and focus only on getting through the here and now, we’ll simply be handing the other side more cards. That’s why, even when escaping the Royal Hall, we didn’t try to force a breakthrough by brute strength, relying on Garfiel or Rem. The more Petra and the others—no, the more Emilia's Faction—demonstrate its supposed danger, the worse the position of Subaru, who is being pursued, and of Emilia, who is in the castle, will become. That must be avoided.
"...How frustrating."
Chewing over the meaning of Petra's words, Meili bit her lip in frustration. Atop Meili's head, the Little Red Scorpion snapped its pincers sharply, as if in sympathy with her feelings. To have power, yet be stopped from wielding it. It's a sense of helplessness different from Petra's, and the flavor of the pent-up frustration she bites back must be different too.
"I have to keep watching."
She doesn't have the torment that comes from being a blessing-bearer like Meili or Otto. That's why Petra can prune away any needless options that try to bubble up and concentrate on a single answer. She doesn't know what she can do yet. But so that, when that 'something' presents itself, she won't be someone who lets it pass her by, she single-mindedly focuses her awareness.
Because that is the manifestation of Petra Leyte's resolve to fight the 'Sword Saint'.
△▼△▼△▼△
His vision narrows, sounds grow distant, scents sharpen, pain spikes, the taste of blood grows hazy—the single life called Garfiel burns white-hot, lost in a trance.
The clash began with him outstripping his opponent's expectations, nailing a near-perfect opening dash. Garfiel's mighty arms, savage legs, and beastlike claws rampaged unrestrained, and he succeeded in pinning Reinhard, who stood before him, on the defensive and to the spot.
It was a result incomparable to the times in Priestella when, in little warm-ups and sparring bouts, he couldn't lift a finger, was treated—literally—like a baby, and lost.
"Back then, I couldn't even budge you off the gravel spread over the yard..."
"—"
"This time, it ain't gonna go that way!!"
He thrust out both arms, drawn tight straight back, at the same time; a full-powered strike drove for Reinhard's chest. Reinhard drew up the 'Dragon Sword' at his hip and caught it on the weapon's sturdy scabbard. But he couldn't disperse the shock completely—his feet lifted, and he took a big step back. He had forced Reinhard to move from that spot with a barrage of heavy blows— for Garfiel, who had been made to learn the difference in their strength that day, it was the finest of medals. Perhaps Reinhard felt it as well; the 'Sword Saint', his cheeks tightening ever so slightly, lifted his face and—
"Your skill—"
"You tryin' to say I've gotten better!?"
"That's exactly what I was going to say."
Garfiel stepped in, determined to seize his praise not in words but in nothing less than victory. The fact that his foe had been driven back by a single blow meant his attacks were reaching Reinhard as something more than a mere breeze. Of course, Garfiel didn't mistake this fine showing for proof that he'd surpassed Reinhard in true ability.
"—It's a damn aggravating thing, though."
Reinhard had stood in their way as a pursuer, yet it was obvious he took no pleasure in opposing Garfiel—let alone Subaru and Emilia. As the 'Sword Saint', he was merely following the royal castle's orders. On top of that, to avoid injuries he hadn't brought any other soldiers—sealing away his own ruinous combat power as he faced Garfiel even now.
Put simply, Garfiel was in his strongest state, brimming with both spirit and stamina, while Reinhard was at his weakest, with low motivation and self-bound out of concern for the surrounding damage. That's precisely why a miraculous stalemate had arisen in this exchange.
"—Truly, it's a damn aggravating thing."
He wants to win. Garfiel wants to win. Without allowing the opponent even the slightest room for excuses, he wants to beat the strong foe who once left him unable to move a hand or foot, riding a ridiculous growth curve that shoots straight up.
'As expected, Garfiel. I knew you'd win!' he wants to hear Subaru say; he wants Otto to regard him with, 'You really saved us this time, Garfiel.' He wants to make Frederica acknowledge him with, 'I'm surprised, Garf. You've already become quite the adult, haven't you?' and it would be pleasant to have Mimi squeal, 'Yah-ha! Garf, amazing! Super strong!!'; he wants Ram to praise him with, 'Hah, not bad, Garf.' He wants everyone to smile.
—Grinding to dust that greedy heart within him that seeks victory, he sets his soul ablaze for this revenge match against the 'Sword Saint', which is in no way fair in this moment.
"—GRAAAAH!!"
Up, down, right, left, forward, back, obverse, reverse, heaven, earth—the bounding Garfiel ricochets, and, not content with assailing Reinhard from the four and eight directions, hammers him from sixteen, from thirty-two, leaving not even a gap for a mouse to slip through. The thunderous sounds of impact are faster, heavier, and louder than a drum beaten in rapid-fire, and without a break they batter, cleave, and grind to bits the peace of the Royal Capital.
But that's only natural. Inevitable. Foreordained. The peace of the Royal Capital that exists here is a lie. A sham. A flimsy facade. Down below, Subaru; behind the scenes, Emilia; in the shadows, the rest of them—are being threatened.
And Reinhard, who has stood in their way as that tangible, unreasonable threat—
"Get smashed to bits—!!"
His all-out right, unleashed—Reinhard caught it with his raised scabbard at the very moment it came; Garfiel twisted the knee of his lightly lifted left leg—and stamped hard on the ground. In that instant, the power of the earth that Garfiel had not once revealed amid his ferocious assault—the energy stored up by the "Blessing of the Earth Spirits"—swelled all at once.
—Up to this point, even as Garfiel had been hammering away with full-power attacks unending, he had never repurposed the "Blessing of the Earth Spirits" into offense to shake Reinhard’s footing. He used the blessing strictly to reinforce his own body, preserving his trump card. For this very moment—only for the one move that would lift Reinhard off his footing.
Even someone like Reinhard, if his body were launched into the air, would have no choice but to trust to free fall on the way down. If he were in the sky where he couldn’t brace himself, Garfiel should be able either to inflict damage with a pursuit or commit to escape. Therefore—
"R-right here—" "—You really have improved."
Reinhard stomped down from directly above on that swelling energy from below.
――――
In that instant, the power that had been on the verge of erupting lost its outlet and spread in all directions centered on the sole of Reinhard’s shoe. The roadway cracked and heaved; the force bled off as it severed a section of the Royal Capital; and the buildings around the battlefield, one after another, were bathed in that explosive energy and collapsed. At that sight, Garfiel’s green eyes flew wide—
"The residents of the whole area have already been evacuated. —There’s no need to worry."
A single flash—light and shock ran from one edge of his vision to the other; it bored through Garfiel’s body on the diagonal and smashed his upper half headfirst into the ground.
A strangled "ka" of pain escaped, and, as if tracing the cracks from when the just-upheaved ground had been stomped flat, an even larger, thicker fissure opened in the roadway, forming a semicircular crater there. In the Empire, Garfiel had stood up to even a head-on strike from the "Cloud Dragon." Of course, he hadn’t gotten off unscathed, but even so, he endured it. —Even that toughness can’t endure this.
"—Ah"
He could tell the bones all over his body were creaking, his muscles were screaming, and his organs had chosen silence. The sheer force threw his body into a panic, so that sight tried to taste, hearing tried to feel pain, smell showed colors, taste heard sounds, and touch tried to convey scents—and none of it connected to understanding.
Does it hurt, is it bitter, does it smell of rust, is it loud—what’s happening—I don’t know. He took a single blow so fatal it made all of that unknowable. He took it. He took it took it took it, took took took took took took, taketaketa—bibibibibi—
—gh
Round and round, his consciousness was being churned, torn apart, about to scatter. Even so, he sensed someone right beside him gasp. The one who gasped, eyes widening, was the red man. The blue-eyed man. The one he had to stop. —He wrapped both arms around that opponent’s right arm, the one that had unleashed the knife-hand strike, and refused to let go.
This one thing, he had decided he would do. Do it. Did it. Must do it.
"AooOOO…!"
"Garfiel, you—"
The air inside his heart was being squeezed out—his heart? His stomach? Which one is the container for air? Either’s fine. Anyway, even if the air-bag’s contents are empty, he roars. Roaring puts strength in him. If he has strength, he can keep this arm from getting away. If he can keep it from getting away, then—
"Uaaaaa—!!"
—without missing it, the green "something" he trusted would move properly.
――――
Still hugged around his arm, the red man who noticed the voice faced forward. His eyes filled with wariness at the green "something" that was charging in with no regard for appearances. He couldn’t read what it would do. He didn’t know what it intended to try. He couldn’t guess what it meant to pull off. Meanwhile, the distance between green and red closed, closed, closed, closed—and with nothing happening, the distance between green and red fell to zero.
"No way—nothing?"
"That’s exactly what’ll draw out your carelessness the best… won’t it?"
With one arm sealed, the other arm swung, and it grazed the green one’s chin. Having brought nothing and charged straight in, the green one took that blow, was stripped of the ability to act with no recourse, and could do nothing but collapse. As they fell, they murmured,
"—Now"
His lips maybe, maybe not, produced a sound that wasn’t a sound. As every phenomenon outside the bounds of understanding flowed from right to left and he received it as mere information, Garfiel—yes, Garfiel. The brain that recognizes himself as Garfiel received that and processed the data. There is red, the green has fallen, and there is Garfiel. And then—
"In sync!" "Little Red Scorpion-chan!"
Across the sky, two white streaks of light raced, passing along the line of fire opened when the green one fell and driving straight at the red one. There was no real sound to speak of; the two lights, faster than arrows, rushed the red one—rushed the red one whose right arm had been sealed and who had just swung free with his left.
"I'm surprised."
But the red one used the elbow of the left arm that had felled the green one, half-rotated the sword in the white scabbard hanging at his waist, and neatly batted the light aside from the flank. With a sound like water spray bursting, the light shattered, and the attack that should have reached the red Reinhard—Petra and Meili's combined technique—was blocked.
Garfiel's reckless self-sacrifice, Otto's interposition, Petra and Meili's ambush—none of them reached Reinhard—
"——"
—and a furiously spinning spiked iron ball was hurled toward the very center of Reinhard.
△▼△▼△▼△
Holding her breath to pour her entire being into just a single instant, Rem forbade herself any waste whatsoever.
She pared away every stray thought—the agitation and emotional tremors that could sap her power, the over-eagerness that might throw her aim off—and invested literally everything into that single throw.
Garfiel would challenge, Otto would scheme, Petra and Meili would ride the tide. Even so, to break through Reinhard, an overwhelming wall they could not otherwise breach, she would have to turn even the humiliation of being treated as dead weight into a weapon.
Swallowing all those psychological factors, Rem poured her all into that one throw.
"Haaaah—!"
Straight and true, singing with the notes of an extending chain, the spiked iron ball that slew the air as it flew—the Morning Star—rushed for Reinhard's torso. Needless to say, if a weapon of this weight and hardness struck head-on, a human body would not get off lightly. Even so, Rem cast aside every shred of hesitation out of trust in how out of scale her opponent was. Even if, in perfect condition, she smashed this into the back of his head from behind, Reinhard would not lose his life—such was the awe and trust she held for an opponent on an entirely different stage.
The black iron ball that carried that trust was drawn into the very center of Reinhard's chest—
"—!?"
The very moment she thought, It'll hit, Rem was struck by an impact that nearly dislocated her right shoulder.
"What—"
—happened? As Rem's eyes bulged, in her field of view Reinhard, who should have taken the iron ball full-on, had swung one long leg high on the spot. —No, that's not it. It was a kicked-up leg. Following the tip of that leg stretched toward the heavens, the Morning Star Rem had unleashed had been swept aside with a single kick and blasted into the sky at a speed too fast for the eye to catch. The shock of the chain going taut traveled all the way back into Rem's body, and it had nearly destroyed her shoulder.
"—ah"
Before the pain could tear her body apart, the heart that had grasped the truth felt as though it would be torn. They had failed. Garfiel had put forth his last ounce of strength, Otto had deliberately feigned having no plan, Petra and Meili had served as a flash in the eyes to pave the way for the main force, Rem. The one single chance for the five here, united as one—that was—
"It won't rea—"
"—No, I'll make it reach."
In the next instant, what painted over her lament was a man's voice that Rem's ears did not know.
"——"
Everyone there drew a sharp breath and turned toward the voice that had arrived like a sneak attack. —Its owner was a white-haired man in a butler's uniform, twin swords of silver light gleaming in his hands. Letting an overwhelming sword aura spill from his whole body, the man said.
"For the one move to save my lord—'Sword Demon' Wilhelm Trias—shall render assistance."
△▼△▼△▼△
What followed immediately after that preamble—the clash begun in the span of a heartbeat—was everything.
"—Grandfather."
In the instant a murmur laced with surprise and grief slipped out, within Reinhard's wavering eyes the 'Sword Demon'—Wilhelm—leaned forward and bullet-dashed. Kicking off the shattered, peeled-up street, Wilhelm erased the distance between himself and Reinhard in a blink, and set the twin blades low at his waist, silver flashes poised. He seized upon that tiny opening, before they were unleashed, before they could land.
"Where d'you think you're lookin', oi!"
His eyes bloodshot, still clutching his right arm with all his might, Garfiel swelled the ground to which half his body was stuck; the rising roadway lunged at Reinhard. Half-baked and with its aim blurry, it was a blind attack that took only sheer number and breadth, fired off in the hope that something would hit. But Reinhard swung his pulled-back left arm, sweeping in a semicircle. A shockwave was born, and fragments scattered. Into that, Wilhelm's stepping slash—
"Aaaah—!!"
Faster than that, Rem let out a high cry and brought her right arm down with all her might.――With a horn wreathed in pale light sprouting from her brow and her oni body driven beyond its limits, the demon girl halted the iron ball that had once been kicked aloft and slammed it straight down from overhead again.
For Reinhard, whose attention had been stolen by the heaving earth and the approaching 『Sword Demon』, the attack from mid-heaven that he should have already warded off once must have been the ultimate sucker punch. However――,
「So this is what you can do.」
Murmuring that, Reinhard caught the falling iron ball with the sheath of the 『Dragon Sword』. The sword had come free from his waist when he blocked Petra and the others’ attack; he kicked it up so that his left hand—the one that had just warded off Garfiel’s upheaving of the earth—could seize it, matching it to the iron ball.
An abnormal combat prowess that has fended off every attack thus far by sheer, superhuman reflexes. And yet, even so, at last,
「Riaaaaa――ッ!!」
With a kiai like a rending crack that could split the earth, the 『Sword Demon』’s twin blades became silver light and raced forth. This was nothing like the succession of ambush-minded strikes up to this point; it was a blow imbued with the realm attainable only by one who has devoted himself solely to the sword, and it closed in on the 『Sword Saint』. His left arm, gripping the 『Dragon Sword』, was receiving the iron ball, and his right arm was sealed by Garfiel.――This time, there seemed to be no way to ward off that flashing blade.
――Unless he slowly brought his right arm up into a guard, Garfiel and all.
「――ァ」
With Garfiel still clinging to his arm, Reinhard meant to sweep at Wilhelm. That said, Garfiel had no way to stop it; even if he let go of the arm here, the freed hand-blade would simply meet Wilhelm head-on. As things stood, Reinhard using Garfiel as a bludgeon was the lesser hindrance. However, if Garfiel, treated as a weapon, were to collide with Wilhelm, the once-in-a-lifetime opening brought by their stalwart reinforcements would be lost――,
「――――」
In that instant, Garfiel’s and Wilhelm’s gazes crossed, and instinct understood. And Garfiel accepted Wilhelm’s decision with a “bring it.” The 『Sword Demon』’s adamant resolve—its answer was――,
「――No way」
As the answer took on a visible form, Reinhard’s twin eyes were dyed with shock.
「It’s your… your bad habit. You misread the measure of others’ resolve.」
Fixing that astonishment with blue eyes as calm as a lake’s surface, Wilhelm declared it. The released swordlight swept out in a half circle—slashing open Garfiel’s raised flank, and then, with the blade that passed through, biting deep into Reinhard’s leg.
「At long last, it reached ya……ッ」
Truly, letting the flesh be cut to sever the bone—the experience of fighting back-to-back in Priestella served Garfiel and Wilhelm here in their wordless coordination. To Reinhard’s senses, if Garfiel inserted himself into the sword’s path, Wilhelm would surely cease his attack. However, the 『Sword Demon』 did not; he grasped the objective that Garfiel and the others had to achieve. Therefore, trusting in Garfiel’s powers of recovery, he cut through Reinhard along with Garfiel.
「――っ」
With a deep wound to his leg, Reinhard’s breath hitched, and Garfiel slipped free from his arm. Pressing a hand to the gash in his flank, he activated healing magic even as his consciousness threatened to fly off. Though he felt a faint awkwardness in its activation, he poured everything into emergency treatment.
「Splendid.」
Just then, before the slipped-free Garfiel could hit the ground, Wilhelm’s outstretched arm caught his body. Looking, Wilhelm had already returned the twin blades in both hands to their sheaths, and in the arm opposite the one cradling Garfiel he held the fallen Otto. Still holding the two, Wilhelm glanced toward Reinhard, and—
「Even for you, that wound won’t be something that heals in an instant.」
「Grandfather, please wait! They, Lady Crusch is――」
「I cannot entrust my sword to the Kingdom as it is now.」
「――っ！」
Answering the voice that tried to stop him thus, Wilhelm sprang far back. Left behind, Reinhard’s eyes widened, but just as Wilhelm had pointed out, the gash that had cleaved deep into his leg was severe, and even he could not move again at once.
「Lady Rem, you’re awake! Take them!」
「Yes! Old man I don’t know!」
Meanwhile, at Wilhelm’s call, Rem swiftly pivoted, ran to Petra and Meili, and scooped up their startled bodies with a little “kya!” As that passed at the corner of his eye, Otto, slung over Wilhelm’s shoulder, stirred faintly,
「Follow the wall and head west……っ」
「Mr. Otto! You’re alive――」
「I’m alive……! On the west side, there are neither the sounds nor any sign of the bugs.――There’s no way we’re being deceived.」
「――Understood.」
Assuming their 『Blessing of Soul Language』 would be turned against them, Otto deliberately chooses to flee toward where no voices of living creatures can be heard, a ploy to avoid a sucker ambush. In accordance with his instructions, Wilhelm and Rem exchange a nod, then burst into a run from the spot, attempting to escape while leaving Reinhard on the battlefield.
「――――」
Rocked violently in the arms of the 『Sword Demon』, Garfiel somehow manages to move his neck and look toward a quarter of the Royal Capital that, in only a brief moment, had become unrecognizable, where Reinhard is left behind. He has his thoughts. It’s not that he hates Reinhard. Even so, as a choice in this situation, the fact that they somehow got past him, who had become an irreconcilable obstacle, brings him relief and a sense of accomplishment—
「――それでも僕は、王国の剣だ」
At that moment, Garfiel felt the world gasp. It didn’t hold its breath; it gasped. —Because, with the quiet resonance of the air, 『Dragon Sword』 Reid, its legendary blade laid bare, emitted a cold, pale-blue light.
△▼△▼△▼△
――『Dragon Sword』 Reid.
One of the ten magic and holy swords in the world, it is permitted to be wielded only by the 『Sword Saint』 of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, a legendary sword handed down through the generations. While its immense, hidden power is the stuff of rumor, because the sword is said to choose for itself the time when it should be drawn, it is considered a sword with a troublesome reputation, with almost no widely known opportunities to see it in action.
Particularly since it passed into the hands of the current 『Sword Saint』, Reinhard van Astrea, chances for the 『Dragon Sword』 to be used have dwindled even further, and reliable accounts of it actually being drawn are so few they can be counted on the fingers of one hand. That is simply because Reinhard’s transcendent prowess as its owner reduces his opponents to foes not even worth drawing the 『Dragon Sword』 against.
In fact, in the many situations where Reinhard has been called upon to act as the 『Sword Saint』, the overwhelming power of 『Dragon Sword』 Reid has not been required. Hence, 『Dragon Sword』 Reid was described by Natsuki Subaru as 「Isn’t it stronger if you just swing it around like an unbreakable blunt weapon?」, which put a wry smile on Reinhard’s face. However—
「――――」
Once the blade of that 『Dragon Sword』 is bared, the world acknowledges it as a matter of the utmost import. The conditions under which 『Dragon Sword』 Reid is drawn remain riddled with mysteries both to those who know Lugunica’s long history and to the 『Sword Saint』 lineage that has owned it for generations. The enemy’s strength, the weight of one’s burden, the savagery of the peril faced—none of these qualifies as the answer. The one thing that can be said with certainty is that when 『Dragon Sword』 Reid is drawn, its purpose has never gone unfulfilled.
「――――」
As if doused by a cold wave, his body and mind, struck by the sword aura, shuddered. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. That is something that must never, ever be made to swing.
「――ッ」
A hard clack sounded; Garfiel’s teeth knocked together in the arms of the old swordsman who had interposed himself. Though being carried, he too—despite knowing he shouldn’t—looked toward Reinhard, beheld the bared 『Dragon Sword』, and felt his hair stand on end.
Rem and the old swordsman, with no leeway to glance back, surely sensed—upon their backs, or as it passed straight through them—the density of the sword aura unleashed from the very soul. Even so, they strove desperately, refused to cower, and did what had to be done.
I honestly think that’s amazing. I can’t help but be impressed. I could never do that. How can they do it without even a model to follow? So I’ll take that as my example and do what I should do. —I’m sure I’ll get scolded, though.
Let’s do what has to be done. Because I want to stand alongside those girls, who always live giving their all—
「――Come on out, Sandworm-chan!!」
In the next instant, the sensation of the earth shaking—no exaggeration—rocked the Royal Capital.
「Meili-chan!?」
Cradled in Rem’s arms, Petra, who had been trying to find something that could oppose the 『Dragon Sword』, opened her eyes wide and stared aghast at Meili, who had ignored the warning. Meeting Petra’s gaze, Meili stuck out her tongue and went, 「Sooorry.」
「I know that if I do this, it’ll cause trouble for big bro Subaru and big sis Emilia... but we can’t end it here, right?」
「—Idiot! You idiot, idiot! We finally got you forgiven, and yet...」
「Ahh, so that’s Petra-chan’s...」
With tears in her eyes, Meili accepted Petra’s words as she called her “idiot” over and over. The notion that Meili, a 『witchbeast user』, summoning witchbeasts would only further broadcast the danger of Emilia's Faction was just one part of the reason. What Petra truly wanted to prevent was the Kingdom once again viewing Meili as dangerous—Meili, whose past as a deadly assassin had been forgiven as their guide to the Pleiades Watchtower.
「It’s fineee. ... Because I got to dream, even if only for a little whileee.」
Maybe, I thought, my sins might be forgiven and I could walk a proper path. In fact, I even thought about walking toward such a future together with the people who’ve been so good to me. And that alone was enough to warm this chest, like back when I was with my high-maintenance big sister.
――Because I got to have a dream like that.
「Mister 『Sword Saint』, can you catch up? I’ve sent out four Sand Worm-chan to all of the Royal Capital’s gates—east, west, south, and north—so by now everyyyone’s in a total panic, you know?」
They’re the sandworms that live in the Augria Dunes, so huge as to be beyond comparison with any others. She had secretly ordered them to follow and kept her trump card burrowed beneath the Royal Capital; now, through her 『Divine Protection of Demon Manipulation』, Meili deliberately gave instructions that would ostentatiously stoke fear.
If Reinhard didn’t go, there might be casualties.――Meili’s heart wouldn’t ache even if that happened. As long as the people here—Subaru, Beatrice, Emilia—didn’t get hurt, that was fine. Aside from the people who cherished her and whom she wanted to cherish in return, she didn’t care who died.
「――Meili」
From afar, she could see Reinhard’s lips move that way as he held the 『Dragon Sword』. Meili, too, was someone who had crossed to the Pleiades Watchtower together with Reinhard and Felt. They had spent time together, and she remembered being shown consideration. Even so, they didn’t compare to Subaru and the others.
「I’m a baaad girl.」
With a mocking little smile, Meili gave Reinhard a small wave. The heat-laden droplets spilled from the corners of her eyes and traced down her cheeks, but Meili herself didn’t notice. The only ones who did were the 『Sword Saint』, whose eyes could pick things out clearly even at such a receding distance, and Petra, who wept at her friend’s decision while being carried in the arms of the desperately running Rem.
「Meili-chan, you idiot...! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...!」
The tearful apology of the girl fell hollowly in the face of her friend’s great decision. And at the end of that great, great choice—
「――――」
――For the first time since the 『Dragon Sword』 Reid passed into the hand of the 『Sword Saint』 Reinhard van Astrea, the sword was returned to its sheath without fulfilling the purpose for which it had been drawn.
Not anyone’s. It was the world’s breath that stopped. The strongest in the Vollachia Empire, with whom he’d once had the chance to speak, said this to Garfiel, who wanted to know the creed that supported that out-of-bounds strength.
『Namely, the world is a stage! The sunlight, the sound of the wind, the scent of the earth, the richness of green—everything is nothing but a set of devices to make the actors shine. Then why does the world go so far as to deck the actors out in such splendor and color? Because none other than the world itself is the super, mega fan whose hopes soar the most for the actors’ blocking, their performances, their famous lines, their iconic scenes!』
That line of thought departs rather sharply from common sense and, to be honest, was quite hard to understand. But just for this moment, it feels as if one can grasp a fragment of the logic the “Blue Lightning” proclaimed so loudly—that the world looks upon people as if enjoying a play.
Which is why, now, it was plain as day that the world had held its breath.
「――――」
Behind them, with the tall rampart that separated the nobles’ quarter from the commoners’ at their backs, Garfiel and the others—blocking the road that stretched out before them stood a man with blazing red hair and sky-blue eyes. Not standing, but standing in the way. Yes—the man was standing in the way.
「Reinhard, is it? …Of all the pursuers I can think of, you’re the worst.」
「I think so too, Otto. It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this.」
The shock of astonishment—the first to regain his senses from it was, as expected of someone with one of the steadiest nerves in their camp, Otto. Even to Otto’s murmur, unable to fully suppress his emotions, the man who answered—Reinhard van Astrea, the “Sword Saint”—did not deny the description of pursuer.
With his hand resting on the hilt of the “Dragon Sword” at his waist, he narrowed his sky-blue eyes slightly,
「An order for your capture has been issued from the royal castle. I ask that you surrender.」
「And if we refuse, you’ll use force?」
「That’s what it will come to. It isn’t my intention… No—my feelings don’t matter.」
「Right. What matters isn’t where one’s heart lies, but the outcome of one’s actions.」
As he spoke, Otto gradually heightened the tension running through his entire body. By contrast, from the instant he appeared, nothing about the air Reinhard wore changed at all. He had already settled on how he would act. And once he decides to do so, he sees that will through—and can do it: that is what a “Sword Saint” is.
「—Reinhard, was it? You said you received orders from the royal castle; do you know what has become of Elder Sister and Emilia?」
At that, Rem spoke up from just behind and to the side of Garfiel. With Garfiel and Otto having stepped forward, Rem stood behind them, shielding Petra and Meili—who had instinctively huddled together at her shoulders—with her arms, fixing Reinhard with a stouthearted stare. The answer to Rem’s question was something Garfiel wanted to know as well. Otto, who had swiftly decided to leave the Royal Hall, likely foresaw this situation.
「Unfortunately, I have not met the two of them inside the castle. I do, however, understand the circumstances by which they were summoned there. They are likely being detained.」
「They haven’t been treated roughly… have they?」
「They have not. At the very least, I can guarantee that no such conduct would come from the soldiers of the Kingdom. Emilia and Ram would not make the careless choice to let the commotion spread, either.」
「—I see. Thank you for answering.」
At the very end—even as she gave them information that would be reassuring for Garfiel and the others—Rem did not forget to add that little bit of poison, and Reinhard closed one eye at her. But the truth was in what Otto had said. What mattered was not feelings, but actions.
「Reinhard, this situation has clearly been set up. The suspicions toward Natsuki and Lady Crusch, the containment of our Emilia faction… even Felt isn’t in a safe zone. And even so—」
「—I am the “Sword Saint”.」
「――――」
「I bear the role of the Kingdom’s sword and will fulfill the duty I’ve been assigned. I warn you again: surrender. Even if you’re escorted to the royal castle, you will not be treated poorly. I will also do everything I can—」
「How persuasive do you think your words are, standing here as you are now?」
Otto’s resolute answer pierced into Reinhard, who kept his expression and voice steady as he called for their surrender. It wasn’t only Otto’s view; it was the will of all five of them, Garfiel included. However eloquent he might be, he was standing there to block their way.
「—It seems you and I won’t be able to be friends.」
「Yes. I had a feeling it would come to that.」
That was the conclusion of the talk between Otto and Reinhard, meant to bend the other's thinking. By a strange turn, both reached the same conclusion—that spending any more words would be pointless.
In fact, Otto's judgment is accurate. Now that Reinhard has caught up, the people at the royal castle must also know that Garfiel and the others are here. If the number of pursuers increases, the avenues of escape will vanish, and if even Marcos starts to move, that possibility will narrow all the more.
「No other soldiers are coming. I've ordered a cordon, but I'm the only one here」
「…May I ask why that is?」
「I don't want to cause needless casualties. I don't intend to underestimate the soldiers' level of training, but I don't intend to make light of you either. That's also why I took on this duty」
「So that we don't end up injuring the soldiers?」
「And also to prevent a situation where you get hurt. If it's me, I can do that」
Taking over from Otto, who had closed off that avenue, Rem kept the exchange going, and Reinhard answered her. The instant that answer was spoken, a prickling sensation as if the world bristled raced through the Royal Capital. Reinhard's intent—his conviction—came across painfully clearly.
However—no, absolutely—that is out of the question.
「――I've been sittin' quiet and listenin' to Bro Otto and Rem talk for a good long while, but there's stuff in what you're sayin' I just can't nod along to, oi」
「Can't agree?」
With crack-crack of knuckles, Garfiel strapped silver gauntlets onto both arms. At the『Sword Saint』narrowing his eyes at Garfiel's stance, Garfiel gnashed his fangs with an「Aa.」He understood the intent behind Reinhard coming alone to hold Garfiel and the others in check. The idea of not wanting to produce unnecessary casualties was something Garfiel agreed with. Even so, he didn't like it. Because—
「For all your talk about not lookin' down on us, ain't there one thought missin'? —That right here! You! Are gonna get! Beat to a pulp! By yours truly!」
In that instant, the roaring Garfiel pushed off the street and lunged at Reinhard. Seeing him step in, what flickered across Reinhard's eyes was not the color of surprise or wariness.
「——」
What flickered was the bitter hue of accepting Garfiel's decision. A gaze of pity, like seeing someone make an obviously wrong choice—not a child who broke a vase apologizing to his parents, but seeing him bury the shards beneath the soil.
At Reinhard, whose eyes held that pained color, Garfiel smashed his fist. It was the same form as that single exchange in Priestella when Garfiel first encountered Reinhard—pressed by his presence, he had lunged reflexively. As Garfiel's downward blow fell, Reinhard raised his right arm. His spread five fingers caught the iron-hard fist, and the easy deflection—
「—!?」
—does not occur.
「Oooooo—!!」
Howling, Garfiel set his whole body into motion, forcibly refusing to let his power bleed off. The impact exploded along the arm Reinhard had taken it with; the sleeve of the『Sword Saint』's white garment burst, and the energy he couldn't deflect spiderwebbed the ground at his feet with cracks. And at Reinhard, eyes widening at a blow beyond what he had imagined, Garfiel bared his fangs with a「Hah!」and grinned as if to show them off,
「Don't go thinkin' everyone but you is gonna keep ploddin' along forever!!」
A dropkick—knees tucked then snapped out—slammed into the center of Reinhard's crossed arms, and the shockwave it triggered savagely tore through a corner of the Royal Capital.
—It felt like I heard the world clap its hands and shout for joy at that opening of hostilities.
△▼△▼△▼△
Petra kept staring at the fight that had begun, her small hands clenched tight.
Garfiel's roaring, surging offensive had the very ferocity of a beast itself—arms, legs, claws, and fangs, every part of him was a weapon with which to bite down on his opponent's throat. Yet that overwhelming flurry of blows, almost impossible to follow with the eyes, Reinhard, facing him, was deflecting for the most part with a raised arm and by slipping his body aside. —But what he could deflect was only most of it, and the aftershocks he couldn't completely turn aside could reach beyond.
「Garfiel, you're amazing… you're holding your own…!」
Before she knew it, what spilled from Petra’s lips was praise for the struggling Garfiel. Petra, too, was a citizen of the Kingdom, and the out-of-scale nature of the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard had reached her ears since the days when she was just a village girl. In the Kingdom, it’s said that even if you don’t know the king’s name, you know the name of the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard—he is that renowned. Once, when the 'Sword Saint'—younger then than Petra is now—singlehandedly crushed the ambition behind an incident in which the three great nations other than Lugunica simultaneously sought to infiltrate the Kingdom, that achievement struck hope into the hearts of many of its people and hammered into the common folk the awe-inspiring might of the current 'Sword Saint'.
Even in Arlam Village, Petra’s hometown, that 'Sword Saint' was an object of admiration among the boys, and Petra, as one of the girls who dreamed, had not entirely failed to imagine a romantic Cinderella story. —Though, for Petra, her prince was a boy utterly unlike the 'Sword Saint' rumored in flowery phrases—simply the most wonderful boy in his own right.
Be that as it may, to Petra—who became connected to that living legend, the 'Sword Saint' Reinhard, in the form of opposing camps in the Royal Selection—his being beyond all bounds was more than she had imagined; anything she’d heard in rumors, when faced with the real thing, was nothing but the product of a child’s clumsy fantasies. —On the way back from the Pleiades Watchtower, seeing him in person, Petra felt that in her very skin.
That is why, faced with Garfiel taking that extraordinary being head-on, Petra felt an incongruous thrill, even pride.
"Tch, nobody will listen to me...!"
Grinding his teeth with a creak, the one scattering his awareness evenly in all directions is Otto. While devoting attention to the fight between Garfiel and Reinhard, Otto is desperately trying to find a way to break the deadlock using the 'Blessing of Soul Language'. Yet his mutter points to the absence of any creatures he can rely on—the fact that his groundwork, by which he usually, in any land, shrewdly secures not collaborators but cooperative entities, has fallen flat. In the first place, the reason they were caught up to by Reinhard here was, in his words, because he was "tricked by bugs." But it’s hard to believe the insects deceived Otto with malice and led him into a trap. In other words, something exists—on the opposing side, someone who, like Otto, or with even greater compulsion than Otto, has a way to command the insects. Namely—
"—Like Meili’s blessing."
With Meili, pressed close enough that their shoulders touched, at the edge of her vision, Petra thus guessed the method used by the one who had outmaneuvered Otto.
Otto’s 'Blessing of Soul Language' has seen a wide range of use, but that owes more to Otto’s own capability in wielding it than to the blessing’s inherent performance. The 'Blessing of Soul Language' only allows him to talk with all living things; whether he can secure their cooperation is the fruit of Otto’s own negotiating and coordinating abilities. Until now, Petra and the others had relied entirely on Otto’s personal talent for that part. If their opponent had someone who, like Meili can control witchbeasts, possessed a means to subdue living things unconditionally, that advantage would be easily lost.
"Petra, if it really comes to it..."
"—Absolutely not."
Right beside her, Petra firmly cut off the words Meili had started to whisper. What Meili had been about to propose was, given they couldn’t rely on the 'Blessing of Soul Language', preparing a way for them to influence the situation—in short, relying on Meili’s blessing. However, while that would certainly be a move capable of changing things, it was at the same time far too sharp a double-edged sword.
"If you summon witchbeasts, Meili, there’s no taking it back. People will say the villain Subaru of the Witch Cult had the 'witchbeast user' Meili as his ally. They’ll think Emilia is connected to the 'Witch'... the 'Witch of Envy,' too."
"But even the 'Sword Saint' guy is here, you know? The people at the castle have already—"
"No, that’s not it. It’s not the people at the castle we can’t let think that—it’s the people of the Royal Capital... the people of the Kingdom."
"——"
"Just like how we believe in Subaru, the people who were helped by Subaru and Emilia will think this is all wrong. We have to make sure we preserve that possibility."
It’s true that this very moment is a crisis, but if we stop choosing our means and focus only on getting through the here and now, we’ll simply be handing the other side more cards. That’s why, even when escaping the Royal Hall, we didn’t try to force a breakthrough by brute strength, relying on Garfiel or Rem. The more Petra and the others—no, the more Emilia's Faction—demonstrate its supposed danger, the worse the position of Subaru, who is being pursued, and of Emilia, who is in the castle, will become. That must be avoided.
"...How frustrating."
Chewing over the meaning of Petra's words, Meili bit her lip in frustration. Atop Meili's head, the Little Red Scorpion snapped its pincers sharply, as if in sympathy with her feelings. To have power, yet be stopped from wielding it. It's a sense of helplessness different from Petra's, and the flavor of the pent-up frustration she bites back must be different too.
"I have to keep watching."
She doesn't have the torment that comes from being a blessing-bearer like Meili or Otto. That's why Petra can prune away any needless options that try to bubble up and concentrate on a single answer. She doesn't know what she can do yet. But so that, when that 'something' presents itself, she won't be someone who lets it pass her by, she single-mindedly focuses her awareness.
Because that is the manifestation of Petra Leyte's resolve to fight the 'Sword Saint'.
△▼△▼△▼△
His vision narrows, sounds grow distant, scents sharpen, pain spikes, the taste of blood grows hazy—the single life called Garfiel burns white-hot, lost in a trance.
The clash began with him outstripping his opponent's expectations, nailing a near-perfect opening dash. Garfiel's mighty arms, savage legs, and beastlike claws rampaged unrestrained, and he succeeded in pinning Reinhard, who stood before him, on the defensive and to the spot.
It was a result incomparable to the times in Priestella when, in little warm-ups and sparring bouts, he couldn't lift a finger, was treated—literally—like a baby, and lost.
"Back then, I couldn't even budge you off the gravel spread over the yard..."
"—"
"This time, it ain't gonna go that way!!"
He thrust out both arms, drawn tight straight back, at the same time; a full-powered strike drove for Reinhard's chest. Reinhard drew up the 'Dragon Sword' at his hip and caught it on the weapon's sturdy scabbard. But he couldn't disperse the shock completely—his feet lifted, and he took a big step back. He had forced Reinhard to move from that spot with a barrage of heavy blows— for Garfiel, who had been made to learn the difference in their strength that day, it was the finest of medals. Perhaps Reinhard felt it as well; the 'Sword Saint', his cheeks tightening ever so slightly, lifted his face and—
"Your skill—"
"You tryin' to say I've gotten better!?"
"That's exactly what I was going to say."
Garfiel stepped in, determined to seize his praise not in words but in nothing less than victory. The fact that his foe had been driven back by a single blow meant his attacks were reaching Reinhard as something more than a mere breeze. Of course, Garfiel didn't mistake this fine showing for proof that he'd surpassed Reinhard in true ability.
"—It's a damn aggravating thing, though."
Reinhard had stood in their way as a pursuer, yet it was obvious he took no pleasure in opposing Garfiel—let alone Subaru and Emilia. As the 'Sword Saint', he was merely following the royal castle's orders. On top of that, to avoid injuries he hadn't brought any other soldiers—sealing away his own ruinous combat power as he faced Garfiel even now.
Put simply, Garfiel was in his strongest state, brimming with both spirit and stamina, while Reinhard was at his weakest, with low motivation and self-bound out of concern for the surrounding damage. That's precisely why a miraculous stalemate had arisen in this exchange.
"—Truly, it's a damn aggravating thing."
He wants to win. Garfiel wants to win. Without allowing the opponent even the slightest room for excuses, he wants to beat the strong foe who once left him unable to move a hand or foot, riding a ridiculous growth curve that shoots straight up.
'As expected, Garfiel. I knew you'd win!' he wants to hear Subaru say; he wants Otto to regard him with, 'You really saved us this time, Garfiel.' He wants to make Frederica acknowledge him with, 'I'm surprised, Garf. You've already become quite the adult, haven't you?' and it would be pleasant to have Mimi squeal, 'Yah-ha! Garf, amazing! Super strong!!'; he wants Ram to praise him with, 'Hah, not bad, Garf.' He wants everyone to smile.
—Grinding to dust that greedy heart within him that seeks victory, he sets his soul ablaze for this revenge match against the 'Sword Saint', which is in no way fair in this moment.
"—GRAAAAH!!"
Up, down, right, left, forward, back, obverse, reverse, heaven, earth—the bounding Garfiel ricochets, and, not content with assailing Reinhard from the four and eight directions, hammers him from sixteen, from thirty-two, leaving not even a gap for a mouse to slip through. The thunderous sounds of impact are faster, heavier, and louder than a drum beaten in rapid-fire, and without a break they batter, cleave, and grind to bits the peace of the Royal Capital.
But that's only natural. Inevitable. Foreordained. The peace of the Royal Capital that exists here is a lie. A sham. A flimsy facade. Down below, Subaru; behind the scenes, Emilia; in the shadows, the rest of them—are being threatened.
And Reinhard, who has stood in their way as that tangible, unreasonable threat—
"Get smashed to bits—!!"
His all-out right, unleashed—Reinhard caught it with his raised scabbard at the very moment it came; Garfiel twisted the knee of his lightly lifted left leg—and stamped hard on the ground. In that instant, the power of the earth that Garfiel had not once revealed amid his ferocious assault—the energy stored up by the "Blessing of the Earth Spirits"—swelled all at once.
—Up to this point, even as Garfiel had been hammering away with full-power attacks unending, he had never repurposed the "Blessing of the Earth Spirits" into offense to shake Reinhard’s footing. He used the blessing strictly to reinforce his own body, preserving his trump card. For this very moment—only for the one move that would lift Reinhard off his footing.
Even someone like Reinhard, if his body were launched into the air, would have no choice but to trust to free fall on the way down. If he were in the sky where he couldn’t brace himself, Garfiel should be able either to inflict damage with a pursuit or commit to escape. Therefore—
"R-right here—" "—You really have improved."
Reinhard stomped down from directly above on that swelling energy from below.
――――
In that instant, the power that had been on the verge of erupting lost its outlet and spread in all directions centered on the sole of Reinhard’s shoe. The roadway cracked and heaved; the force bled off as it severed a section of the Royal Capital; and the buildings around the battlefield, one after another, were bathed in that explosive energy and collapsed. At that sight, Garfiel’s green eyes flew wide—
"The residents of the whole area have already been evacuated. —There’s no need to worry."
A single flash—light and shock ran from one edge of his vision to the other; it bored through Garfiel’s body on the diagonal and smashed his upper half headfirst into the ground.
A strangled "ka" of pain escaped, and, as if tracing the cracks from when the just-upheaved ground had been stomped flat, an even larger, thicker fissure opened in the roadway, forming a semicircular crater there. In the Empire, Garfiel had stood up to even a head-on strike from the "Cloud Dragon." Of course, he hadn’t gotten off unscathed, but even so, he endured it. —Even that toughness can’t endure this.
"—Ah"
He could tell the bones all over his body were creaking, his muscles were screaming, and his organs had chosen silence. The sheer force threw his body into a panic, so that sight tried to taste, hearing tried to feel pain, smell showed colors, taste heard sounds, and touch tried to convey scents—and none of it connected to understanding.
Does it hurt, is it bitter, does it smell of rust, is it loud—what’s happening—I don’t know. He took a single blow so fatal it made all of that unknowable. He took it. He took it took it took it, took took took took took took, taketaketa—bibibibibi—
—gh
Round and round, his consciousness was being churned, torn apart, about to scatter. Even so, he sensed someone right beside him gasp. The one who gasped, eyes widening, was the red man. The blue-eyed man. The one he had to stop. —He wrapped both arms around that opponent’s right arm, the one that had unleashed the knife-hand strike, and refused to let go.
This one thing, he had decided he would do. Do it. Did it. Must do it.
"AooOOO…!"
"Garfiel, you—"
The air inside his heart was being squeezed out—his heart? His stomach? Which one is the container for air? Either’s fine. Anyway, even if the air-bag’s contents are empty, he roars. Roaring puts strength in him. If he has strength, he can keep this arm from getting away. If he can keep it from getting away, then—
"Uaaaaa—!!"
—without missing it, the green "something" he trusted would move properly.
――――
Still hugged around his arm, the red man who noticed the voice faced forward. His eyes filled with wariness at the green "something" that was charging in with no regard for appearances. He couldn’t read what it would do. He didn’t know what it intended to try. He couldn’t guess what it meant to pull off. Meanwhile, the distance between green and red closed, closed, closed, closed—and with nothing happening, the distance between green and red fell to zero.
"No way—nothing?"
"That’s exactly what’ll draw out your carelessness the best… won’t it?"
With one arm sealed, the other arm swung, and it grazed the green one’s chin. Having brought nothing and charged straight in, the green one took that blow, was stripped of the ability to act with no recourse, and could do nothing but collapse. As they fell, they murmured,
"—Now"
His lips maybe, maybe not, produced a sound that wasn’t a sound. As every phenomenon outside the bounds of understanding flowed from right to left and he received it as mere information, Garfiel—yes, Garfiel. The brain that recognizes himself as Garfiel received that and processed the data. There is red, the green has fallen, and there is Garfiel. And then—
"In sync!" "Little Red Scorpion-chan!"
Across the sky, two white streaks of light raced, passing along the line of fire opened when the green one fell and driving straight at the red one. There was no real sound to speak of; the two lights, faster than arrows, rushed the red one—rushed the red one whose right arm had been sealed and who had just swung free with his left.
"I'm surprised."
But the red one used the elbow of the left arm that had felled the green one, half-rotated the sword in the white scabbard hanging at his waist, and neatly batted the light aside from the flank. With a sound like water spray bursting, the light shattered, and the attack that should have reached the red Reinhard—Petra and Meili's combined technique—was blocked.
Garfiel's reckless self-sacrifice, Otto's interposition, Petra and Meili's ambush—none of them reached Reinhard—
"——"
—and a furiously spinning spiked iron ball was hurled toward the very center of Reinhard.
△▼△▼△▼△
Holding her breath to pour her entire being into just a single instant, Rem forbade herself any waste whatsoever.
She pared away every stray thought—the agitation and emotional tremors that could sap her power, the over-eagerness that might throw her aim off—and invested literally everything into that single throw.
Garfiel would challenge, Otto would scheme, Petra and Meili would ride the tide. Even so, to break through Reinhard, an overwhelming wall they could not otherwise breach, she would have to turn even the humiliation of being treated as dead weight into a weapon.
Swallowing all those psychological factors, Rem poured her all into that one throw.
"Haaaah—!"
Straight and true, singing with the notes of an extending chain, the spiked iron ball that slew the air as it flew—the Morning Star—rushed for Reinhard's torso. Needless to say, if a weapon of this weight and hardness struck head-on, a human body would not get off lightly. Even so, Rem cast aside every shred of hesitation out of trust in how out of scale her opponent was. Even if, in perfect condition, she smashed this into the back of his head from behind, Reinhard would not lose his life—such was the awe and trust she held for an opponent on an entirely different stage.
The black iron ball that carried that trust was drawn into the very center of Reinhard's chest—
"—!?"
The very moment she thought, It'll hit, Rem was struck by an impact that nearly dislocated her right shoulder.
"What—"
—happened? As Rem's eyes bulged, in her field of view Reinhard, who should have taken the iron ball full-on, had swung one long leg high on the spot. —No, that's not it. It was a kicked-up leg. Following the tip of that leg stretched toward the heavens, the Morning Star Rem had unleashed had been swept aside with a single kick and blasted into the sky at a speed too fast for the eye to catch. The shock of the chain going taut traveled all the way back into Rem's body, and it had nearly destroyed her shoulder.
"—ah"
Before the pain could tear her body apart, the heart that had grasped the truth felt as though it would be torn. They had failed. Garfiel had put forth his last ounce of strength, Otto had deliberately feigned having no plan, Petra and Meili had served as a flash in the eyes to pave the way for the main force, Rem. The one single chance for the five here, united as one—that was—
"It won't rea—"
"—No, I'll make it reach."
In the next instant, what painted over her lament was a man's voice that Rem's ears did not know.
"——"
Everyone there drew a sharp breath and turned toward the voice that had arrived like a sneak attack. —Its owner was a white-haired man in a butler's uniform, twin swords of silver light gleaming in his hands. Letting an overwhelming sword aura spill from his whole body, the man said.
"For the one move to save my lord—'Sword Demon' Wilhelm Trias—shall render assistance."
△▼△▼△▼△
What followed immediately after that preamble—the clash begun in the span of a heartbeat—was everything.
"—Grandfather."
In the instant a murmur laced with surprise and grief slipped out, within Reinhard's wavering eyes the 'Sword Demon'—Wilhelm—leaned forward and bullet-dashed. Kicking off the shattered, peeled-up street, Wilhelm erased the distance between himself and Reinhard in a blink, and set the twin blades low at his waist, silver flashes poised. He seized upon that tiny opening, before they were unleashed, before they could land.
"Where d'you think you're lookin', oi!"
His eyes bloodshot, still clutching his right arm with all his might, Garfiel swelled the ground to which half his body was stuck; the rising roadway lunged at Reinhard. Half-baked and with its aim blurry, it was a blind attack that took only sheer number and breadth, fired off in the hope that something would hit. But Reinhard swung his pulled-back left arm, sweeping in a semicircle. A shockwave was born, and fragments scattered. Into that, Wilhelm's stepping slash—
"Aaaah—!!"
Faster than that, Rem let out a high cry and brought her right arm down with all her might.――With a horn wreathed in pale light sprouting from her brow and her oni body driven beyond its limits, the demon girl halted the iron ball that had once been kicked aloft and slammed it straight down from overhead again.
For Reinhard, whose attention had been stolen by the heaving earth and the approaching 『Sword Demon』, the attack from mid-heaven that he should have already warded off once must have been the ultimate sucker punch. However――,
「So this is what you can do.」
Murmuring that, Reinhard caught the falling iron ball with the sheath of the 『Dragon Sword』. The sword had come free from his waist when he blocked Petra and the others’ attack; he kicked it up so that his left hand—the one that had just warded off Garfiel’s upheaving of the earth—could seize it, matching it to the iron ball.
An abnormal combat prowess that has fended off every attack thus far by sheer, superhuman reflexes. And yet, even so, at last,
「Riaaaaa――ッ!!」
With a kiai like a rending crack that could split the earth, the 『Sword Demon』’s twin blades became silver light and raced forth. This was nothing like the succession of ambush-minded strikes up to this point; it was a blow imbued with the realm attainable only by one who has devoted himself solely to the sword, and it closed in on the 『Sword Saint』. His left arm, gripping the 『Dragon Sword』, was receiving the iron ball, and his right arm was sealed by Garfiel.――This time, there seemed to be no way to ward off that flashing blade.
――Unless he slowly brought his right arm up into a guard, Garfiel and all.
「――ァ」
With Garfiel still clinging to his arm, Reinhard meant to sweep at Wilhelm. That said, Garfiel had no way to stop it; even if he let go of the arm here, the freed hand-blade would simply meet Wilhelm head-on. As things stood, Reinhard using Garfiel as a bludgeon was the lesser hindrance. However, if Garfiel, treated as a weapon, were to collide with Wilhelm, the once-in-a-lifetime opening brought by their stalwart reinforcements would be lost――,
「――――」
In that instant, Garfiel’s and Wilhelm’s gazes crossed, and instinct understood. And Garfiel accepted Wilhelm’s decision with a “bring it.” The 『Sword Demon』’s adamant resolve—its answer was――,
「――No way」
As the answer took on a visible form, Reinhard’s twin eyes were dyed with shock.
「It’s your… your bad habit. You misread the measure of others’ resolve.」
Fixing that astonishment with blue eyes as calm as a lake’s surface, Wilhelm declared it. The released swordlight swept out in a half circle—slashing open Garfiel’s raised flank, and then, with the blade that passed through, biting deep into Reinhard’s leg.
「At long last, it reached ya……ッ」
Truly, letting the flesh be cut to sever the bone—the experience of fighting back-to-back in Priestella served Garfiel and Wilhelm here in their wordless coordination. To Reinhard’s senses, if Garfiel inserted himself into the sword’s path, Wilhelm would surely cease his attack. However, the 『Sword Demon』 did not; he grasped the objective that Garfiel and the others had to achieve. Therefore, trusting in Garfiel’s powers of recovery, he cut through Reinhard along with Garfiel.
「――っ」
With a deep wound to his leg, Reinhard’s breath hitched, and Garfiel slipped free from his arm. Pressing a hand to the gash in his flank, he activated healing magic even as his consciousness threatened to fly off. Though he felt a faint awkwardness in its activation, he poured everything into emergency treatment.
「Splendid.」
Just then, before the slipped-free Garfiel could hit the ground, Wilhelm’s outstretched arm caught his body. Looking, Wilhelm had already returned the twin blades in both hands to their sheaths, and in the arm opposite the one cradling Garfiel he held the fallen Otto. Still holding the two, Wilhelm glanced toward Reinhard, and—
「Even for you, that wound won’t be something that heals in an instant.」
「Grandfather, please wait! They, Lady Crusch is――」
「I cannot entrust my sword to the Kingdom as it is now.」
「――っ！」
Answering the voice that tried to stop him thus, Wilhelm sprang far back. Left behind, Reinhard’s eyes widened, but just as Wilhelm had pointed out, the gash that had cleaved deep into his leg was severe, and even he could not move again at once.
「Lady Rem, you’re awake! Take them!」
「Yes! Old man I don’t know!」
Meanwhile, at Wilhelm’s call, Rem swiftly pivoted, ran to Petra and Meili, and scooped up their startled bodies with a little “kya!” As that passed at the corner of his eye, Otto, slung over Wilhelm’s shoulder, stirred faintly,
「Follow the wall and head west……っ」
「Mr. Otto! You’re alive――」
「I’m alive……! On the west side, there are neither the sounds nor any sign of the bugs.――There’s no way we’re being deceived.」
「――Understood.」
Assuming their 『Blessing of Soul Language』 would be turned against them, Otto deliberately chooses to flee toward where no voices of living creatures can be heard, a ploy to avoid a sucker ambush. In accordance with his instructions, Wilhelm and Rem exchange a nod, then burst into a run from the spot, attempting to escape while leaving Reinhard on the battlefield.
「――――」
Rocked violently in the arms of the 『Sword Demon』, Garfiel somehow manages to move his neck and look toward a quarter of the Royal Capital that, in only a brief moment, had become unrecognizable, where Reinhard is left behind. He has his thoughts. It’s not that he hates Reinhard. Even so, as a choice in this situation, the fact that they somehow got past him, who had become an irreconcilable obstacle, brings him relief and a sense of accomplishment—
「――それでも僕は、王国の剣だ」
At that moment, Garfiel felt the world gasp. It didn’t hold its breath; it gasped. —Because, with the quiet resonance of the air, 『Dragon Sword』 Reid, its legendary blade laid bare, emitted a cold, pale-blue light.
△▼△▼△▼△
――『Dragon Sword』 Reid.
One of the ten magic and holy swords in the world, it is permitted to be wielded only by the 『Sword Saint』 of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, a legendary sword handed down through the generations. While its immense, hidden power is the stuff of rumor, because the sword is said to choose for itself the time when it should be drawn, it is considered a sword with a troublesome reputation, with almost no widely known opportunities to see it in action.
Particularly since it passed into the hands of the current 『Sword Saint』, Reinhard van Astrea, chances for the 『Dragon Sword』 to be used have dwindled even further, and reliable accounts of it actually being drawn are so few they can be counted on the fingers of one hand. That is simply because Reinhard’s transcendent prowess as its owner reduces his opponents to foes not even worth drawing the 『Dragon Sword』 against.
In fact, in the many situations where Reinhard has been called upon to act as the 『Sword Saint』, the overwhelming power of 『Dragon Sword』 Reid has not been required. Hence, 『Dragon Sword』 Reid was described by Natsuki Subaru as 「Isn’t it stronger if you just swing it around like an unbreakable blunt weapon?」, which put a wry smile on Reinhard’s face. However—
「――――」
Once the blade of that 『Dragon Sword』 is bared, the world acknowledges it as a matter of the utmost import. The conditions under which 『Dragon Sword』 Reid is drawn remain riddled with mysteries both to those who know Lugunica’s long history and to the 『Sword Saint』 lineage that has owned it for generations. The enemy’s strength, the weight of one’s burden, the savagery of the peril faced—none of these qualifies as the answer. The one thing that can be said with certainty is that when 『Dragon Sword』 Reid is drawn, its purpose has never gone unfulfilled.
「――――」
As if doused by a cold wave, his body and mind, struck by the sword aura, shuddered. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. That is something that must never, ever be made to swing.
「――ッ」
A hard clack sounded; Garfiel’s teeth knocked together in the arms of the old swordsman who had interposed himself. Though being carried, he too—despite knowing he shouldn’t—looked toward Reinhard, beheld the bared 『Dragon Sword』, and felt his hair stand on end.
Rem and the old swordsman, with no leeway to glance back, surely sensed—upon their backs, or as it passed straight through them—the density of the sword aura unleashed from the very soul. Even so, they strove desperately, refused to cower, and did what had to be done.
I honestly think that’s amazing. I can’t help but be impressed. I could never do that. How can they do it without even a model to follow? So I’ll take that as my example and do what I should do. —I’m sure I’ll get scolded, though.
Let’s do what has to be done. Because I want to stand alongside those girls, who always live giving their all—
「――Come on out, Sandworm-chan!!」
In the next instant, the sensation of the earth shaking—no exaggeration—rocked the Royal Capital.
「Meili-chan!?」
Cradled in Rem’s arms, Petra, who had been trying to find something that could oppose the 『Dragon Sword』, opened her eyes wide and stared aghast at Meili, who had ignored the warning. Meeting Petra’s gaze, Meili stuck out her tongue and went, 「Sooorry.」
「I know that if I do this, it’ll cause trouble for big bro Subaru and big sis Emilia... but we can’t end it here, right?」
「—Idiot! You idiot, idiot! We finally got you forgiven, and yet...」
「Ahh, so that’s Petra-chan’s...」
With tears in her eyes, Meili accepted Petra’s words as she called her “idiot” over and over. The notion that Meili, a 『witchbeast user』, summoning witchbeasts would only further broadcast the danger of Emilia's Faction was just one part of the reason. What Petra truly wanted to prevent was the Kingdom once again viewing Meili as dangerous—Meili, whose past as a deadly assassin had been forgiven as their guide to the Pleiades Watchtower.
「It’s fineee. ... Because I got to dream, even if only for a little whileee.」
Maybe, I thought, my sins might be forgiven and I could walk a proper path. In fact, I even thought about walking toward such a future together with the people who’ve been so good to me. And that alone was enough to warm this chest, like back when I was with my high-maintenance big sister.
――Because I got to have a dream like that.
「Mister 『Sword Saint』, can you catch up? I’ve sent out four Sand Worm-chan to all of the Royal Capital’s gates—east, west, south, and north—so by now everyyyone’s in a total panic, you know?」
They’re the sandworms that live in the Augria Dunes, so huge as to be beyond comparison with any others. She had secretly ordered them to follow and kept her trump card burrowed beneath the Royal Capital; now, through her 『Divine Protection of Demon Manipulation』, Meili deliberately gave instructions that would ostentatiously stoke fear.
If Reinhard didn’t go, there might be casualties.――Meili’s heart wouldn’t ache even if that happened. As long as the people here—Subaru, Beatrice, Emilia—didn’t get hurt, that was fine. Aside from the people who cherished her and whom she wanted to cherish in return, she didn’t care who died.
「――Meili」
From afar, she could see Reinhard’s lips move that way as he held the 『Dragon Sword』. Meili, too, was someone who had crossed to the Pleiades Watchtower together with Reinhard and Felt. They had spent time together, and she remembered being shown consideration. Even so, they didn’t compare to Subaru and the others.
「I’m a baaad girl.」
With a mocking little smile, Meili gave Reinhard a small wave. The heat-laden droplets spilled from the corners of her eyes and traced down her cheeks, but Meili herself didn’t notice. The only ones who did were the 『Sword Saint』, whose eyes could pick things out clearly even at such a receding distance, and Petra, who wept at her friend’s decision while being carried in the arms of the desperately running Rem.
「Meili-chan, you idiot...! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...!」
The tearful apology of the girl fell hollowly in the face of her friend’s great decision. And at the end of that great, great choice—
「――――」
――For the first time since the 『Dragon Sword』 Reid passed into the hand of the 『Sword Saint』 Reinhard van Astrea, the sword was returned to its sheath without fulfilling the purpose for which it had been drawn.
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