CHAPTER 7
What She Wished For
The flames cried out. Crumble, crack, perish. The eighteenth floor was no home to paradise now; only a burning arena that trembled and sparked amid the dueling forces of justice and evil.
“Those adventurers with you… Followers of Hermes, I presume?”
Atop a bluff commanding a view of the entire floor, Erebus looked to each of Astrea’s escorts in turn: a male elf, a chienthrope thief, and a human girl.
“I suppose that makes sense,” said Erebus with an aura of calm. “After all, your own followers are otherwise occupied, aren’t they?”
“Yes. But Hermes was kind enough to lend me his own from outside the city. It was pressing I meet with you, you see.”
Her indigo-blue eyes were stoic and firm, like an arrow of justice. The corners of Erebus’s mouth crept up.
“And why is that, Astrea? Come to pass your judgment on me, have you?”
Erebus was alone, unbacked by any of his followers. Most had given their lives to protect their dark master from the ire of the monster Delphyne, and Astrea’s escort had swiftly dispatched those who remained. If Astrea wanted to deal with Erebus right here and now, there was no doubt she could do it.
But instead, she gently shook her head.
“That is not why I have come, Erebus. After all, if you die here, you will not return to see the light of heaven.”
“………”
“The Dungeon will devour you, and you will be forever lost.”
Erebus shrugged. Astrea stared at him and continued talking.
“I only came to see you and be with you as the ordainer of justice, while the fate of our children plays out.”
Standing by his side, Astrea looked out over the Dungeon floor, where the black wind fought Delphyne, and the followers of justice kneeled at the feet of Silence.
“Show me,” the woman said; it was a silent scream from the lips of the most powerful beauty to ever walk the battlefield. “Show me a greater power. Show me proof I cannot deny. Show me will! Show me resolve! Show me justice! Show this evil what your light can do!”
Nobody could answer her. Lyra, Neze, Noin, Iska, Lyana, Celty, Asta, Maryu—all of them wore bitter scowls across their bleeding faces.
Even Alize could only ball her fists in frustration.
Lyu was no different.
All of Astrea Familia lacked the power to teach the witch her errors.
However…
OOOOOOOOOoooooo…
The roof of the Dungeon shook. A rumble from the surface, spanning the long distance, as if to spur the girls on.
There was no way they should have been able to hear it, and yet hear it they did.
The sound of those who fought.
Was it Warlord? Braver? Was it Andromeda? Or was it a funeral dirge for adventurers whose names would not be remembered?
Either way, it was the howl of heroes—of those who seized their future, and of those who passed it on.
Lyu felt it, too, in the very depths of her soul—and made a choice. Planting her hand on the ground, she bore her bruised and battered body to its feet.
“Leon…!” said Alize, wide-eyed with wonder.
Alfia turned to the girl, her eyes closed as ever.
“Erebus’s favorite,” she said. “Do you have an answer for me?”
Lyu looked down at the wounds on her right hand.
“…No,” she said in an almost imperceptible voice.
“What?”
“Right now…in my current state… I cannot persuade you, or even say for certain what justice is.”
Lyu spoke the truth of her heart. She didn’t lie or try to show off. Instead, she laid her weakness bare.
“I’d be lying,” she said, “if I said your tale just now—of destroying Orario to save the world—didn’t shake my faith a little.”
“Leon…” said Lyra, looking up at her.
“Even now, I’m nothing but a lost traveler on an endless journey…” Lyu went on.
Then she clenched her right hand tight.
“But there is one thing I know for sure, Alfia! With your solution, justice will never go on!”
“What…?”
“You look only to the past! Not to the future, or even the present!”
Alfia’s ultimate aim was to revive the world of antiquity. A return to the Age of Heroes from thousands of years past. She looked not to step boldly forward, but to undo the progress of history, and that was something Lyu could never accept—for one simple reason.
“You’ll be casting away everything we’ve been given—everything we’ve inherited from people like Adi!”
“!”
“That’s why I can never accept your way! You’ll be wasting all their lives—all their deaths!”
Alfia wore a look of utter shock.
And it wasn’t just her. Alize, Lyra—all of Astrea Familia were stunned.
Lyu’s gaze was fixed firmly on the future, not the past. She did not run from the fear and despair that lay ahead, but stood to oppose it.
“All their rights…and all their wrongs! I carry all of them with me and reach for whatever lies ahead!”
Perhaps it was naive of her. Perhaps it was youth. Youth blinded her to the horrors that awaited her. Youth allowed her to dream.
Perhaps, to someone like Alfia, who had personally witnessed the brutality of the world, Lyu’s thoughts were a fanciful fiction. A wish that could never be fulfilled.
But Lyu had known despair once. She had tasted loss and grief. She, too, had seen how harsh the world could be, and she had not given up. Her chin remained lifted, her eyes directed ahead. Lyu chose to keep walking despite knowing full well what she might find.
Her will was noble; her journey long. Even if she were to fall again, she would get up and keep walking. It was her righteous sense of justice that allowed her to do so.
And so, with that fire in her heart, and starlight in her eyes, she looked at Alfia and said, “That is my duty to those who came before me!”
Justice would never die. In order to pass it on, Lyu looked to tomorrow.
The torch she received would burn away the darkness. That was what she believed. That was what Lyu declared.
She would uphold her vow, both to Adi, and to those who still fought on the surface, even now.
“………”
Alfia was frozen. She was still trying to make sense of what she’d heard, as if the concept of something other than despair were alien to her.
Meanwhile, Lyu’s words lit a fire in the other members of her familia.
“…You said it, kiddo.”
It was Neze, the animal girl, a grin on her face. Hearing those words from the lips of their newest recruit, she slapped her knees and pulled herself upright.
“Hah. That’s our baby sister for ya. Such a simpleminded idiot,” said Lyra, climbing to her feet and wiping the blood from her cheek.
It was then that Alize, somehow the most energetic of all, leaped to her feet and proudly thrust out her chest.
“I think Leon’s onto something here!” She beamed. “Future! Yeah, that’s right! Future! Just keep saying ‘Future’ and it sounds all justicey! Yeah! Now that’s what I call justice!”
“…Oh, I forgot. We’ve got an even bigger idiot on the team, and it’s the eldest sister…” said Lyra with a sigh.
“But it sounds like we’ve got our answer,” said Lyana, the human mage, swinging her wooden staff.
“Yeah. Thanks to Lyu,” said Maryu, the healer, and the actual eldest sister. She chanted her spell and restored the other girls.
“We’ve got to chase after the future, no matter how bad it gets,” said Noin, the human.
“Because we’re the only ones who can carry on Adi’s words, and her smile,” said Iska, the Amazon. The two of them lifted each other, shoulder to shoulder, and stepped forward.
“Until the day comes when we return to stardust…” said Asta, the dwarf.
“…we’ll all keep walking forward,” Celty, the elf, concluded. The two of them shared a smile that transcended race.
Alize looked around at her fellows, and with a bright, sunny, smile…
“We follow our duty! We balance the scales! Until the day the stars claim us!”
Without further prompting, the girls all looked at each other and shared a nod.
“Like comets in the sky above, we leave our starry trails on this earth where’er we go!”
Lyu and the rest of her family completed the oath.
““““““““““This I swear, on the sword and wings of justice!!””””””””””
The ashen hair of Silence fluttered in the combined wind of the maidens’ vow.
“Not the past, but the future,” she muttered. “To look not to proven history, but the unknown and unwritten. Then to you girls, I must seem a specter, bound to the past…or perhaps a dusty old memento of times gone by.”
To anyone paying close enough attention, it must have seemed as though the witch’s lips formed a gentle smile. But the very next second, that illusion was lost amid the whirling sparks.
“Very well,” she said. “This is the end…of you foolish children and your impossible dreams. I swear on my own life that I shall bury you all. There will be no salvation. There will be no mercy. All will be erased. You have brought your noise to me…and now you shall pay.”
“Oh, we’ll pay, all right!” chirped Alize. “And we’ll take you down!”
“This is it, Alfia!” yelled Lyu. “This ends here!!”
The scarlet flames raged, and the gale wind blew. Lyra and the other girls followed. Ahead of them stood the conqueror of evil, eager to put an end to their ongoing justice.
“Future…? Dreams…?”
Wreathed in a magical light, the bell of Silence tolled, and a battle began to unfold. A short distance away, Vito watched over the girls make their promises with a look of utter shock.
“I don’t understand. How can such cheap rhetoric empower them? How can they face the might and despair of Silence?”
It wasn’t their words that surprised him; Vito was no stranger by now to the pretty white lies of justice. But the conqueror was unassailable, and no amount of hot air could change that.
Vito knew as much firsthand. He still remembered his reaction to being stripped bare by Zald. Pure terror. Like meeting a being from another dimension. A man against whom any and all resistance was a futile endeavor.
And yet, Astrea Familia had found strength in those pretty white lies. They faced the witch without any fear in their hearts.
What sorcery made such things possible? What justice?
At that moment there came a hysterical laughter. Not from the man’s own lips, but those of the girl standing beside him.
“What is so funny?” he asked, turning to Kaguya.
“Oh, nothing,” the girl replied, wiping her eyes. “It’s just…I knew that girl was stupid, but not this stupid. Even for an elf, she’s remarkably stubborn.”
A gentle smile appeared on her lips, as though she’d found something precious she had been missing for a long time.
“Look at her, defect. Look at that idiot. Look at that elf.”
Vito followed Kaguya’s gaze to Lyu, fighting wildly with an elven sword in one hand and the weapon of her departed friend in the other. The trails of her blades shimmered like starlight.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
Normally, Vito would have denied it reflexively, but he was so entranced that he couldn’t respond.
“Isn’t it blinding? The faith of a moron who believes in hope. Someone who strives for perfection, who admits their mistakes, and who looks ever forward.”
Failing to put in the effort would bring you nothing. Ignoring your flaws was a mistake.
Anyone could ignorantly believe in hope. Similarly, anyone could give up on the future.
But to take steps in the direction of that hope, and to aim for that future; that was something truly special. To Kaguya, that was surely where true justice lay.
“That is what we must fight for. That is what Adi wished to pass on. That is the justice we must carry!”
At that moment, her smile was that of the gentle elder sister, looking out for her sibling in her own, clumsy way.
“Justice will go on. A lovely phrase, don’t you agree? It means even my own sordid past is worth preserving,” she said.
But Vito refused to accept it. “Those words are nothing but a comforting lie!” he yelled. “If justice is so important, then what about me?!” He sneered in a futile attempt to conceal his self-loathing. “I am the incarnation of the world’s imperfections! There is no future for me! No hope I can cling to, nor justice to pass on!”
“No justice to pass on? That’s because you never listened to one.”
“Hrk!!”
Kaguya’s sharp gaze cut the man’s rant to ribbons.
“You decided you didn’t need to; you knew what justice was. You were all alone, and nobody could ever understand you, and it just wasn’t fair. You gave yourself over to madness and cruelty, and disguised it as anger. How could you ever pass that on?”
Vito was dumbstruck, but Kaguya’s cutting words did not stop there.
“You incorrigible fool. You’re nothing but a bloodthirsty beast, hiding behind tragic tales, blind to the paradox that lays at your core. Truly defective.”
“Grrh!!”
Vito had no response. He couldn’t argue back with logic, but neither could he surrender to violence and mayhem. The word defective, that Vito had once welcomed, now seemed like a curse he could not escape.
“No matter what you say, we will preserve them. The ideas we’ve been given. The justice we’ve inherited.”
Kaguya returned her trusty sword, Higanbana, to its sheath.
“We will prove to you…that there are things that will long outlive us!”
“Hrk…?!”
“They will sing our heroic tales forever! Not because of a fixation on the past, but to strive for the future!”
When she closed her eyes, she saw the girl who once stood in twilight. And she saw the nameless few who fought and died this day.
With their thoughts occupying her mind, she allowed just a sliver of her blade to peek out, preparing to cut down whatever lay in her path.
Vito couldn’t keep up. “Heroic tales? That is the hope you bring against despair? What absolute nonsense! I won’t accept it! That’s ridiculous!”
He screamed and cried like he was throwing a tantrum. It was all he could do to avoid admitting the truth and breaking down completely.
“I must kill! I must destroy! It’s the only way to make the world right again! Your ‘justice’ is nothing but fabricated lies! You’re a fool to believe it!!”
“Enough.”
Kaguya silenced him with a single word.
“I will put an end, here and now, to your ridiculous delusions. With my own tainted justice—the art of my accursed Gojouno line.”
The Far Eastern girl shifted her foot, aligning her body side-on while lowering her posture. There was no mistaking what kind of technique she was preparing.
Vito took a few steps backward in fright, before planting his feet, steeling his nerve, and launching himself at her with a mad scream.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhh!!”
With no way out of his harrowing realization, the man resorted to the only thing that would bring him solace—plunging his knife through Kaguya’s heart.
However, Kaguya’s gaze was firm.
“Begone, twisted brute. Ill-omened flower of death.”
She spoke her ultrashort chant, and her sword flew from its sheath.
“Iai Strike: Five Lights!”
All of a sudden, Vito’s world shrunk. Five crimson streaks, the same red as the spider lily, trapped him like the bars of a cage.
“Rgh…!”
Vito saw her, in five positions at once. In front, to either side, behind, and finally, above. Her impossible bladework had sealed his fate.
The arts that Kaguya so despised were a fusion of magic enhancement and pure swordplay.
Her former house, the Gojouno clan, sat in the shadows of the Imperial Court. They handled arrests and executions, but also murder, assassination, and seduction—anything the higher-ups wanted dealt with discreetly. And sometime in the early days of the Age of Gods, this clan discovered a peculiarity in their bloodline: the transmission of certain skills and spells.
Just like how elves possessed a common seed that allowed similar skills to manifest, so, too, did the pure blood of the Gojouno line permit the mass creation of assassins, all with identical abilities.
Identical skills. Identical spells. The same horrifying training regimen enforced upon all members of the clan. Bred to be replaceable, and imbued with the founder’s abilities, honed to perfection over a thousand years of history.
That clan’s highest art was this: a paired skill and spell, each bearing the name Five Lights.
The spell was an exceedingly simple one that merely conjured five magical slashes at whatever angle the user wished. It required the caster to possess an ungodly sword skill to elevate it and achieve something greater: an inescapable coffin of blades.
Vito dodged the first slash by a hair’s breadth. With the knife in his hand, he parried the second on his right. He sacrificed his left arm, allowing the third blade to slice it off, while the fourth carved a gash into his back.
“Gaaaaaaaaaghhh!!”
After that, his luck ran out. The fifth and final blade descended on his neck, slicing into his shoulder, and was about to reach his heart when it disappeared. For what reason he could not fathom, but the girl had dispelled her magic at the very last second.
But such mercy was not enough to save Vito’s life. Perhaps it was not mercy at all. All around him, his own blood drops were hanging in the air like a flurry of cluster amaryllis—the crimson color Vito admired most, rendered only to him as a cold, inhuman gray.
“This is the end, defect. Lie there until you perish.”
Her repugnant, despicable flower. Kaguya had grown used to its sight by now, but it disgusted her nonetheless. She returned her sword to its sheath, then turned her back on the fallen Vito.
“Captain! Leon! I’m on my way!”
Her destination was, of course, her loyal friends, still locked in battle with the Silent Witch. She left, clutching the wounds she had suffered.
“…Not…yet…! This…can’t be over…yet…!”
The man she left behind burned with hate; hate for the world and everything in it. He clung stubbornly to life, fighting to stem the waters of life flowing out of him.
“I need to… I need to…!”
Meanwhile, from his vantage point far away, a single god looked down on his follower in silence, his face devoid of emotion.
The fierce fighting continued. Fire and wind came at her from opposite angles, but Alfia dodged and parried every last blow like a leaf in the wind.
“Brave of you to come so close, children,” said the witch. “Do you think speed and recklessness alone will win you the day?”
“No, but what choice do we have?! Your magic can hit us at close range or far, so we might as well be where we can hit you back!”
“That’s the only chance we have of winning!” said Lyu, agreeing with her captain’s words. “A long-range battle favors nobody but you!”
The two girls’ combination attacks were nothing short of art, but the witch was unperturbed. She parted her lips, preparing to blast the pair of them off the face of the earth.
“Besides, mixing close- and long-range combat is a vital skill for any adventurer!”
It was Neze, a midrange fighter, who plugged the gaps and put a stop to the spell with her throwing daggers. For Alfia, just a small tilt of the head was required to avoid them, but it created the smallest of openings for Astrea’s finest mages to unleash their spells.
“Celty, now!”
“Yes, Miss Lyana!”
An immense fireball and stream of roaring flames created an inescapable prison of fire.
However, the witch negated it entirely.
“Ataraxia.”
Her barrier obliterated the two spells, leaving not even magical residue behind.
“Erk, she put her enchantment back up!” exclaimed Noin, having paused for a moment to use a healing item.
“Well, of course she would!” shouted Lyra. “She only needs to say one word to activate it, and she can turn it off whenever she likes! Even if it’s not instantaneous, she can switch between offense and defense in the blink of an eye!”
Her irritation was plain to see. Neze once more voiced her concern. “I know, but…doesn’t that make her unbeatable?! She doesn’t have any weaknesses at all!”
No, she has to have some, thought Alize. Otherwise, she would have wiped the floor with us by now! She’s a Level 7, and we’re Level 3 at best! There’s no doubt about it…her power level is dropping!
Two adjacent levels were an order of magnitude apart. A Rank Up was likened to an ascension of the body and soul, one step closer to godhood. The very idea of a Level 3 facing a Level 7 was so laughable it couldn’t even be called a fight under normal circumstances.
So then, circumstances were not normal.
Alize had figured it out.
“We’re on the right path!” she said. “Braver’s plan to wear her out is working! Leon, commence operation Hit and Run! It’s not very hero-like of us, but we have to keep her busy!”
“Right, Alize!”
At her leader’s command, Lyu flew into a resolute barrage of swings. She never attacked from the front, but instead from the sides, behind, and sometimes used that as a feint to go in from above.
“Taking turns to keep me on my toes, are you? I suppose you aren’t likely to give me a chance to cast my spells… No matter. Against you, I hardly need them.”
The strategy was sound…against any normal foe, at least. Against Alfia and her prodigious talent, it fell woefully short. Just as she covered for Alize and came in close, Alfia pressed the sword aside with her palm, while her other hand, deadly as a guillotine blade, came down upon Lyu’s neck. Alize was too far away to step in, but…
“Out of the way, greenhorn!”
A lightning-fast blade repelled Alfia’s chop.
“I step out of the fight for two seconds, and this happens! I just can’t leave you alone, can I?”
“Kaguya!”
Alfia stepped back to avoid her blade, allowing the Far Eastern girl to land beside Lyu.
“I was wondering where you went off to!” Alize chirped. “I didn’t believe for one second you’d just leave us all behind and run! Honest!”
“You’re as bad at lying as the elf, Captain. Best you keep your mouth shut…and leave this old hag to me!”
Kaguya did not spare so much as a glance in her leader’s direction. With a snarl that exposed her pearly whites, she kept her wicked eyes on Alfia.
“I’ve rid us of that meddling pest,” she spat. “Now it’s time to settle the score!”
“You have an impressive fire, child,” said Alfia. “However, I should correct you, for I am merely twenty-four.”
“Whoa! You’re actually that young?! I thought for sure you were, like, forty or something, and it was just your Falna making you look pretty! Color me shocked!”
“Alize! I know we’re fighting her, but you don’t have to be so rude!” said Lyu.
The weary gazes of the adventurers at the center of the formation converged on the pair. “What are they doing over there…?” Lyra sighed.
“Oh, pardon my rudeness!” said Kaguya. “It’s just, all old women look the same when you’re just seventeen!”
“If you mean to provoke me,” responded Alfia, “you’ll have to try a little harder than that. Your youth is nothing to be proud of.”
Without making any sound at all, Alfia instantly closed the distance with Kaguya. The Far Eastern girl’s eyes flew wide as she beheld the terrifying speed and power of the witch’s bare hand—as formidable a blade as any first-tier equipment.
“People age faster than you could ever know.”
What followed was a deadly storm. The girls couldn’t believe their eyes: Not only did Alfia’s hand remain completely unharmed—her bare-handed parries actually wore down the girls’ blades instead.
She’s still going?! thought Kaguya.
She’s even faster than before! thought Alize.
She’s a monster! thought Lyu.
“We grow old,” said Alfia, “every time we think of what could have been. To regret our actions is to curse ourselves. Even I no longer know my heart’s true age.”
Her gentle looks betrayed no emotion, but her words were laced with sorrow.
“We cannot fix our past mistakes. They are what make us who we are today… Zald and I are of one mind in this regard.”
Beneath the ashen clouds, the people’s voices roared. These were the cries of adventurers—the city’s scream itself.
Ottar gazed to the sky, taking them in, before lowering his gaze to the man before him.
“Zald…”
In Central Park, just south of Babel’s gates, the defeated conqueror was lying on the ground. All around, the scars of their fight were carved into the land. Flagstones had been uprooted, revealing the bare earth beneath. By now, the sparks of war were fewer in number, and the hell this man had wrought was beginning to fade.
Ottar’s right hand gripped his sword, though he no longer possessed the strength to wield it. With unsteady movements, he made his way to Zald’s side.
“…You bested me, then.”
“Yes… I did.”
Zald was staring death in the face. His armor was battered and torn, and the flesh beneath was blackened with blood. It was obvious he was not in good health.
Perhaps he never had been.
“Hah. Mewling…brat…”
His face was slick with blood, and the light in his eyes was fading fast. It was clear he was trying to laugh, but most of the muscles in his face no longer worked, and all he could manage was a slight twisting of his lips.
There was no trace of the fierce, imposing figure who had blocked Ottar’s path for so many years—just a dying hero on his way out.
“Things would have been different ten years ago,” Ottar said, casting his mind back to the past. “Besting you now means very little to me.”
“Spare me your pity…” Zald grunted. “Before this war, I feasted well… Never have I felt as strong as I did today…”
The one thing Zald didn’t want to listen to was the boaz downplaying his own achievements.
“You bested me regardless,” he said. “Take pride in that…and never forget it…”
“…As you wish.”
Even on his deathbed, the warrior had more to teach. Ottar fell silent, his mind swarmed by unnecessary thoughts and feelings.
His keen nose picked out a trace of rot amid the stench of blackened blood, and it brought to mind a memory—a memory of a time prior to the Black Dragon’s onslaught—when Ottar stood with Finn on a plain of black sand. Thinking back to that time, he asked the man a question.
“Zald, do you regret slaying the Behemoth?”
“…I do not.”
A question the man denied.
“I only played my part. For the good of this world…and for my fellow man. What…is there…to regret…? If there is one thing I regret, it is…Cough! Hack!”
As he tried to speak, Zald retched horrifically, spluttering black ooze that washed away the crimson blood.
“…Sleep now, Zald,” came the voice of Freya, standing silently by her warlord’s side. “I may not be your god, but I shall be here for you in the end regardless.”
“Heh. What spirit of fortune I should thank…to behold you in my final moments…instead of that boorish old man…”
Zald managed to crack somewhat of a smile, taking one last parting shot at his familia’s god.
“…Ottar,” he said.
It took Ottar a moment to realize what sounded so odd. The man had called him by name for the very first time.
“…What is it?” he asked.
“Do not…rest easy. You have far…to go. Greater heights still…await…”
“…I know.”
“Good…”
With his receding gaze fixed on the ashen skies above, the old hero left his final words.
“Never stop…fighting. Never stop…growing… Leave us…all… behind…”
With that, Zald breathed his last. There was no funeral song; instead, only the hymn of war resonated in the background. However, just for a moment, it seemed to grow in intensity, as if fulfilling his wish.
A gentle smile remained on Zald’s lips, even after he passed. The goddess kneeled, reached out her hand, and softly closed his eyelids.
“The final remnant of Zeus Familia is no more,” she said. “At last.”
“Yes…”
Ottar stood, half listening to his goddess’s words, as a thousand years of history crumbled in his presence. He craned his neck upward, beholding the same ash-laden sky Zald saw in his final moments.
“Zald…” he said. “I will always be grateful to you.”
“Zald confirmed dead! Almost all the enhanced species have been wiped out, and the stronghold defenses are all under control!”
Adventurers called out to each other amid the rapidly evolving war zone. There seemed to be no end to the good news constantly streaming in, bringing the strongholds hope. Ottar’s victory, as well as the sacrifice of the veterans, empowered them to shake off their despair and fight on in spite of their horrific losses, dealing a heavy blow to the Evils and monsters alike.
“This is the home stretch!” said Asfi, her faith returning. “The Evils won’t be able to hang on much longer! But still…!”
Behind her spectacles, her eyes narrowed. Her line of sight shifted to the fleeing Evils.
“Master Zald has fallen…? This cannot be… You’ll pay for this!!”
“Come back here! …Damn!”
Falgar watched in frustration as Olivas and the other lieutenants left the battlefield, covering their retreats with whatever forces remained available to them.
If only we had the forces to pursue them, thought Asfi, biting her lip, but we’ve taken too many casualties already! We can barely defend the strongholds as it is! The Evils still have plenty of suicide bombers and monsters on their side. At this rate, we’ll have no choice but to let their leaders escape!
At that moment, a runner from Loki Familia appeared from the northwest—the direction of Guild HQ.
“Perseus! A message!”
The use of a runner instead of a signal informed Asfi that the contents were more than what a brief sequence of flashing lights could convey. She stiffened in fear of what that might be.
“You’re to join up with Ankusha and assume overall command!” the envoy said.
“What?! Me?” Asfi shrieked. “What happened to Braver?!”
There were already standing orders in place for the worst-case scenario—in which Finn was assassinated or otherwise taken out of the battle—but they required the strongholds to act independently, not for anyone to take over the prum general’s spot.
The messenger hemmed and hawed awhile, struggling to find the words, before…
“…The captain has, er…opted to take independent action, ma’am…”
“…You’re kidding me…”
Asfi’s eyes flew wide as she realized what he intended to do.
“Morale on all fronts is dropping fast! We don’t know how long we can sustain the attack on the strongholds! Heavy casualties among the tamers, too!”
“Apate and Alecto have both taken heavy damage from Freya Familia! I’m getting unconfirmed reports that the Dis sisters and Master Basram have all been killed in action! The remaining spirit warriors are retreating alongside the rest of our troops!”
Despair crept into the voices of the Evils messengers. Every word out of their mouths only enraged Valletta more and more.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!! Order those losers to hold the line and tell our lieutenants to get their asses back to Knossos!”
Valletta was a competent commander. She wasn’t one to let the anger get the better of her. Suppressing the fire roaring inside her, she shifted her mind to plans of retreat.
“And don’t let Finn’s lot find out about our secret entrance!” she yelled. “Stay off Daedalus Street and use the one outside the city! Make ’em think we’re runnin’ away!”
“B-but, ma’am, even if we regroup, we no longer have the strength to make another offensive! The day is lost!”
“No it ain’t! Listen!” cried Valletta as the ground beneath her feet shuddered. “Hear that? Erebus and Alfia are still alive down there! That means the war ain’t over yet! We just gotta make it to Knossos, regroup with that woman, and then…”
But then came a voice. A voice Valletta had never expected outside her worst nightmares.
“Spear of magic, I offer my blood! Bore within this brow.”
“…Gh?!”
Be it through some fluke of the wind, an auditory hallucination, or some uncanny sixth sense like Braver’s thumb—Valletta heard a voice that should’ve been too far to be audible.
“Hell Finegas!”
Her eyes were immediately drawn to its source—to West Main Street, where a lone prum stood atop a mountain of Evils corpses.
He slowly opened his eyes.
“…There’s no escape,” he said. “This is checkmate.”
His irises, once azure, were now a burning crimson. Blasting the cobbles at his feet, he sprinted faster than the wind, bearing his greatspear.
“F-Finn?! You bastaaaard!!”
Valletta screamed his name and leaped from the trading house edifice, leaving her flustered underlings to follow. Springing from rooftop to rooftop, she traveled from the southwestern district toward the southeast, hoping to escape the prum’s wrath.
She had made a snap decision. She was fast on her feet. But the prum was even faster.
“Gaaaaaaaagh!!”
A scream echoed through the streets. It belonged to one of the cultist pawns Valletta had sent to die in her stead. She had left them to harass Finn like a swarm of wild hornets, and they had succeeded in their task for only a few seconds before he took them apart and resumed his pursuit.
Finn lopped off hands, skewered hearts, let lips run red with blood. Heads flew, bathing the streets in crimson rain, before landing far away. But these people had toyed with human life, and their fates meant nothing to him. Instead, he fixed his scarlet eyes on Valletta.
It was difficult to keep him in sight because of his sheer speed. Finn was like a vicious hound, refusing to give up the chase until one of them was dead.
“I’ve left command of our armies to Asfi and Shakti,” he muttered, eyes fixed unerringly on his target’s back. “There’s only one man uninjured enough to go after you, and that’s me. What’s the matter, Valletta? Never expected the king to come after you alone? If so, you only have yourself to blame.”
A lone cultist hurtled down at him from above, but one swing of Finn’s greatspear caused the unfortunate man to light up the sky in a premature explosion. His bloody remains splattered the walls as Finn locked eyes once more with the enemy general.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this, Valletta.”
Without even a moment’s pause, Finn resumed his pursuit.
“Where’s your guard, Finn?!” screamed Valletta over her shoulder. “You think I can’t handle one sneaky little prum?!” Still, she seemed to be avoiding challenging Finn one-on-one. “Once I regroup up with Apate and Alecto, you’re dead meat! We’ll kick the shit out of you!”
Apate Familia and Alecto Familia had been charged with conquering the Amphitheatrum in the east of the city, and right now they were heading south through district three—just a stone’s throw from where Valletta was in district four. Even if the Dis sisters and Basram were no more, the surviving forces included four spirit warriors, and the means of controlling them—Basram’s staff. These Level 5 soldiers would be more than enough to handle Finn.
“And don’t think I don’t know all about that spell of yours!” she sneered. “It raises your stats, but at the cost of your sanity! You’re just a berserker incapable of rational thought!”
Hell Finegas was a mind-altering enchantment. It granted the user a buff comparable to a level increase, but also imbued them with a lust for battle. Under its effects, Finn was unable to make coolheaded decisions, let alone command an army. In a straight-up fight, its potency was unmatched, but it rendered Finn far more vulnerable to traps and tricks.
“You’re a fool to come at me alone, Finn! And soon you’ll pay the price!”
With a swing of her arm, Valletta tossed a flash bomb. Upon seeing that signal, the survivors of Apate Familia immediately changed course. Though not as distinguished as the Dis Sisters, the other followers of Apate were a cut above the Evils’ rank and file. Their acting leader immediately took Basram’s staff in hand and struck its base against the rooftops, causing the four spirit warriors to charge like savage beasts.
Valletta grinned a malicious grin. In just sixty seconds, Finn would be nothing but a bloody puddle on the pavement. However, Finn seemed completely unperturbed.
“Sorry to disappoint, Valletta,” he said, “but it’s not going to be that easy.”
The four spirit warriors came straight at him. Finn landed upon the roof of a large brothel. As soon as he did, sixteen of Alecto Familia’s soldiers leaped out of hiding, their spells already charged.
The trap was sprung. But with the cold flames of brutality brewing within him, the man people called a hero unleashed his ferocity.
It was a massacre.
“………”
The distant sounds of his greatspear going to work sent a chill down Valletta’s spine.
Finn sliced the first of the spirit warriors in half almost immediately. A thrust skewered the second in the neck. The carnage was enough to give even those mindless beasts pause, but even that was short-lived before the third of them fell prey to the raging tip of Finn’s weapon.
The remnants of Alecto Familia trembled with fright. The spirit warriors had been weakened in their battle with Freya Familia, but they still should have made for formidable foes. The fourteen mages of the ambush squad immediately fired off their prepared spells and magic swords.
In response, Finn gripped the still-moving body of the third spirit warrior and used it as a human shield.
The very last thought that passed through the minds of the mages as their target disappeared into the flames, was how on earth had a mad berserker had been able to think up such a maneuver. The very next second, a throwing knife came speeding out of the inferno, skewering the Evils captain in the face. It crackled with dark lightning, betraying its true identity—the spirit dagger that had been lodged into the experiment’s spine and gave it its powers.
With their leader’s death, his men were overcome by confusion and chaos. It was then that a voice issued forth from the flames.
“Don’t run away. Let’s end it here.”
Then the small spearman leaped forward, slaughtering the remaining mages in the blink of an eye. Without their captain, they struggled to defend themselves, much less fight back. What was supposed to be the hunting of a mindless beast very quickly became the exact opposite, and the mad sycophants of Alecto and Apate were forced to pay the price for their vile crimes.
The last spirit warrior roared and leaped at Finn, but they were no match for the prum captain and his magical enhancements. Watching the fight made it quite clear that Finn’s spell had not dampened his tactical acumen to anywhere near the extent that Valletta had hoped.
“Wha—?!”
Valletta was at a loss for words. After breaking through the melee fighters, Finn moved on to the supporting mages. By disturbing their ranks, he was able to push through the blockade.
“H-he’s wiped out both Apate’s and Alecto’s forces!” cried a subordinate. “Braver’s coming this way, ma’am!”
“He defeated our ambush?” snarled Valletta. “How?! That shouldn’t be possible!”
Finn was meant to be nothing more than a savage beast, incapable of rational thought, let alone predicting a surprise attack. Up on the brothel roof, now a hill of blood, Braver stood and swung his spear.
“As it turns out,” he said, “I can break through the madness if I’m angry enough. I do confess that I didn’t know that before. And wouldn’t you know it…I’m quite angry.”
Finn’s mind was sharp, his decisions swift. Like a flame so hot it burned clear and blue, his rage was more defined than it had ever been.
“I had to watch my mentors die,” he said. “I know this won’t bring them back, but…won’t you help me grieve?”
Blood was splattered across his cheeks like an unholy specter, Finn took one step across the battlefield.
“I want to bathe you in your own blood.”
His voice quivered like fire.
“I want to make you buy back each and every life you’ve taken…with your own suffering.”
The hero became an avatar of rage and shot forward.
“S-somebody stop him!” Valletta cried. “Hold him off so I can get away!!”
Her soldiers let out terrified squeals as they ran to engage, but each of them ended up splattered against the cobbles like the ones who preceded them.
“That look… That look in his eyes! There’s no doubt about it…he’s still sane! He’s lost it and kept his sanity at the same time!”
Pale with fear, Valletta had no choice but to accept the truth.
Using his magic, Finn’s as strong as a Level 6! He’s the most powerful man in the city, alongside Ottar! My only edge was that he couldn’t make rational decisions! Once that’s out the window, I’m toast!
Valletta’s worst fears had become the honest truth. As she fled toward the center of the southwest district, Finn’s golden spear, soaked in blood, bore down on her.
“H-he can’t be stopped! He’s just one man, but… Gaaaagh!!”
The last of Valletta’s troops fell to Finn’s attacks. All that was left was the toxic spider herself.
“Don’t try to squirm your way out of this one.”
“S-stay away from me! Stay awaaaaay!!”
She let out a scream, fighting to be as far as possible from the lone prum. But Finn was completely cold to her humiliating flight. With one hand, he raised his spear like a javelin.
“…Rot in hell, Valletta.”
He threw.
The spear spiraled through the air at an ungodly speed, whistling toward the enemy commander.
“Hrgh… Grgh!!”
Time ground to a halt as pain shot through her body. The impact lifted her off her feet and into the air.
Valletta shifted her gaze down and to the side. There, sticking out of her shoulder, was the tip of Finn’s spear, coated in her own blood.
“Gaaaaaaaaaaghhh!”
The weapon remained lodged in her flesh, dragging her down into the snarl of streets below.
“I missed,” cursed Finn. “I only hit her shoulder. And now she’s fallen into…”
Daedalus Street.
A labyrinthine maze of alleyways and passages. The city’s second Dungeon. No amount of familiarity could help even a resident of Orario make sense of its enigmatic twists and turns. Some said that anyone who ventured in too deep would never come back out.
Finn narrowed his crimson eyes.
“I should hunt her down…end her life with my own two hands…but…”
He shook his head. It was like his boundless rage and the mind of Braver were warring inside his brain.
“I can’t risk getting lost when there’s so much going on. As much as it pains me to let her go…”
Valletta was a slippery one. Even wounded, there was no telling how far into Daedalus Street she could make it. It would take Finn time, not just to track her down, but to make his way back. And time was one thing he didn’t have right now. The longer he was absent from the board, the more Finn risked letting other enemy pieces give him the slip.
“It’s not good enough to win the battle… We need to win the war. Not just for those of us who live, but for those who’ve died.”
Muttering to himself, Finn closed his eyes.
“…At times like this, I wish I really were a mindless beast.”
Consigning his sorrow to those words, he opened his eyes again. Now they were calm and blue, and filled with reason once more.
“We’ll call it quits here, Valletta. Both of us have lost too much.”
Turning his back on Daedalus Street, Finn departed to rendezvous with nearby troops and mop up the stragglers. The sight of him mowing down enemy forces by himself raised the spirits of adventurers across the whole battlefield. He may have allowed Valletta to escape, but Finn was dead set on making sure the remaining Evils understood the price of their sins, and that they were prepared to pay them back in full.
With Valletta gone, there were none left among the Evils capable of matching Finn at the game of war. And so, the hero set dedicated himself to securing a complete strategic victory.
We’ve taken out more than half of the Evils’ lieutenants. It’s safe to say the battle aboveground is drawing to a close now.
In the casino neighborhood, Finn rejoined his army and went over the messengers’ reports. The cries of adventurers filled the air. They seemed like they would burst into song at any moment. From the top of the building, Finn surveyed the whole city.
All that’s left is the Dungeon. Since she wasn’t up here, I’m guessing Alfia really is down below, just as I predicted.
The Dungeon monster, and Hera’s finest. The task Riveria’s group faced was harsher yet than anything in the city streets.
However, if by some fluke their battle was still raging…
“…Then her time should be running out right about now.”
Finn’s eyes were drawn to the ground beneath his feet, where unfathomable depths below, his allies fought.
Blades swung endlessly, creating an unremitting cacophony of sound.
“Gah!”
Hit by the witch’s magic, Lyu was sent flying.
“Leon!!” cried Alize, calling after her.
There was nobody left to assuage her fears. Kaguya, Lyra, Neze—all the other girls had fallen to her might. Lyu looked up and saw a flutter of ashen hair.
“This is the end,” came Alfia’s voice.
She was so close there was no hope to either dodge or block her spell. Lyu watched in terror as the witch raised her arm.
“Gospel.”
But just then, right after speaking her ultrashort chant, Alfia became mysteriously still.
“Huh…? It didn’t work…?”
Lyu was astonished to find herself still living. She immediately leaped back to a safe distance, then shot Alfia a puzzled look.
Why hadn’t the witch’s spell obliterated her? It wasn’t long before Lyu received her answer.
“…Hack!”
Alfia’s hand flew to her mouth, just as a flood of crimson erupted from her throat.
“What?!”
Lyu and the other girls had no idea what was happening. It was like the witch was suffering a fit of some kind.
“She’s…coughing up blood?!”
“But we didn’t do anything!”
Lyu and Kaguya watched in shock as Alfia continued to choke. Her blood spilled forth, staining her dress and the crystals at her feet. Before long, she was standing in a scarlet puddle.
“…It’s true, then. What Finn said…”
It was Lyra who spoke up first, still awestruck at what she was seeing.
“I didn’t believe him at first. I mean, these two are so friggin’ powerful, there’s no way…but he was right.”
The doors of memory were flung wide, and the girl’s minds each played host to a scene of the past.
It was Lyu who instinctively described the scene.
“The weakness of Alfia, Silence…”
“A weakness? Zald and Alfia have one?”
They met on the eve of the decisive showdown, just a few short hours before total war began. Loki Familia had some vital information to share with the girls of Astrea Familia.
“Yes,” Finn had said. “There’s a small chance you might end up fighting one of them. I’m telling you this just in case.”
Finn had already included this information in the battle plans sent to each of the familias, but at the eleventh hour, he had decided to call Astrea’s girls to the Guild Headquarters war room.
“A weakness, huh? Something that’ll let us take ’em down in seconds, like a monster’s magic stone? No chance.”
Lyra scanned the faces of Loki Familia’s three leaders, clasping her hands behind her head.
“Some tiny advantage, I bet. A of good that’ll do when we’re talkin’ about two Level Seven’s who’ll flatten us with one hit,” she said.
Riveria answered Lyra’s flippant attitude with neither anger nor blame. She only stated the facts.
“That is true,” she said. “It will not trivialize your task. However, we believe that if you plan appropriately, victory can nonetheless be yours.”
“…Against those two?” exclaimed Lyra in astonishment. “…You’re pullin’ our legs, right?”
It was Gareth who answered. “This weakness existed back when the Zeus and Hera familias were still around. In all likelihood, they have not been able to cure it.”
“…We fought her, once,” said Kaguya. “And we didn’t see any sign of a supposed weakness. Nothing at all…”
“There is one,” Riveria reiterated. “What’s more, it’s the reason Alfia is still only Level Seven despite all her talent.”
Jaws hung open at Riveria’s brazen remark. Even Alize was too stunned to say anything. It was Lyu, standing next to her, who spoke on her behalf.
“And what is that weakness?” she asked, a hint of tension in her voice.
Riveria closed her eyes. “The one thing that held her back from perfection: an incurable illness.”
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login