CHAPTER 5
DREAMS OF THE LINDVOLUS
“Ah, I love spring! It’s almost time for the school fair again…”
Today, as with almost every other weekday at Seidoukan, the cafeteria was bustling with students. In the center of that mass of activity sat Eishirou, nibbling on a croquette and looking nostalgic.
“Are you not doing anything special this time around?” Ayato, sitting across from him, asked over his plate of pasta.
“What, when I worked so hard last time?”
During the last school fair, Eishirou’s newspaper club had been one of the main organizers of a major event and were busy practically every day.
“That was an exception. This year, we’re just planning to do a couple of interviews. I mean, the club prez—well, the former club prez—has already gone and graduated. So now we’re just passing one peaceful day after another.” Behind those words was a trace of sadness in Eishirou’s voice.
“Forget about that, Amagiri,” Lester demanded from his seat by Eishirou’s side. “What’s this about you not entering the Lindvolus?” He was resting his chin on his hands, the scraps of the hamburger that he had just eaten laying before him on the table.
“Ah, yeah. I don’t really have any other wishes that I want granted. And besides, I don’t want to get in Julis’s way.”
“Tch! And here I was thinking I’d have a chance to take you both down.” Lester scowled.
“Speaking of which… You seem to be working yourself pretty hard lately, Lester,” Eishirou remarked.
Unlike his roommate, Eishirou, Ayato didn’t have many opportunities to meet Lester, but it was clear just from looking at his movements and build that he had grown significantly stronger over the past few months. Whatever his new training regimen was, it must have been an intense one—and dangerous, too, judging by the fresh injuries that seemed to cover his body every time they met.
“Hmph. Just you wait and see. This year’s Lindvolus is gonna be interesting, that’s for sure,” Lester said with a dauntless grin.
At that moment—
“Yo, Lester MacPhail.”
“Ugh…?! Ms. Yatsuzaki?”
Kyouko, who was Ayato’s homeroom teacher again this year, had sneaked up behind Lester, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Lester, having turned suddenly pale, looked around as if searching for some way to escape.
Ignoring his discomfort, Kyouko grabbed him by the neck, pulling him toward herself. “Melissa’s pretty worried about you, MacPhail. Getting yourself beat up all the time, and refusing to so much as talk about it. So what’s going on? Huh?”
“N-no, it’s just…”
“I thought I told you. Melissa’s my precious little baby. If you do anything to upset her, I’ll make sure it’s much worse for you…” Kyouko’s eyes bored into him, something close to savagery emanating from inside them.
“Melissa…?” Ayato whispered under his breath.
“Ah, MacPhail’s girlfriend,” Eishirou murmured back, covering his mouth with his hand.
Now that he mentioned it, Ayato had heard this story from him once before. Lester, it seemed, had found her collapsed in the street due to her chronic illness one day, and so began their budding romance. Ayato had never met her, but apparently, she was a rare beauty and worked at a café in the Rotlicht.
“…How do you know her, Ms. Yatsuzaki?”
“She’s one of my old teammates.”
“Wha—?!”
That meant she was a member of the only team from Le Wolfe to ever triumph at the Gryps. That, in and of itself, was an extraordinary coincidence.
“So you’d better start talking, MacPhail.”
“I can’t!”
“Then tell me why you can’t!”
“I can’t tell you that, either!”
As he tried to dodge her questions, Lester had broken out into a cold sweat, the drops trickling down his forehead. Kyouko, however, was undeterred.
“Yep, peaceful days,” Eishirou murmured as he watched on, looking as if he couldn’t be happier.
“A secret training program…?” Ayato muttered under his breath.
“Huh? You know something?” Eishirou returned.
“No, it’s just that lately, Julis is getting herself injured pretty frequently, too.”
Ayato, Julis, and Kirin trained together as often as they could, but they never went so far as to seriously injure one another. Which meant she was no doubt doing something else in her own time.
“Well, both Her Highness and Lester here have their eyes on the Lindvolus. Of course they’re gonna want some intensive training. And isn’t Her Highness planning to take down Erenshkigal?”
“I guess so…”
What bothered Ayato, though, was how Julis kept finding a way to dodge his questions about whatever it was that she was doing.
Just like Lester was now.
Of course, Ayato trusted Julis not to engage in anything too over-the-top.
Still, there was one thing that had him worried.
When it comes to Orphelia, I don’t think she’ll be able to restrain herself…
Watching on as Kyouko wrapped her hands around Lester’s neck, Ayato decided that he, too, would have to confront Julis more directly about it.
“Percival will be taking a leave of absence from us for a while,” the student council president of Saint Gallardworth Academy, Elliot Forster, began at the end of the council’s usual debriefing session. “As such, her former position in the rankings, number five, is now vacant and will be decided by a special exhibition match. That’s all… Ah, Noelle, if you could stay back for a minute?”
“Huh? A-ah, yes…” The green-haired young woman, Noelle Messmer, alias the Witch of Holy Thorns, Perceforêt, cautiously approached from her position by the far wall, her face downturned as the other members of the student council filed past her out of the room.
Elliot tapped his fingers against his desk as he watched them leave. He still wasn’t quite able to feel at home in his new position, behind this heavy ebony desk.
Since the retirement of the previous student council president, Ernest Fairclough, following the Gryps, Elliot had inherited three separate roles: He had taken possession of the Runesword, the Lei-Glems; he had reached the top position in the academy’s rankings; and he had succeeded the position of student council president.
According to Gallardworth’s code, the top-ranked student was automatically named student council president and had full power to appoint all other student council members. Only then was a vote of confidence conducted across the academy to approve the outcome.
That said, it was general practice that all council members would be selected from among the academy’s Page Ones. Other students could put their names forward as candidates should the vote of confidence fail to return a majority, but in all of Gallardworth’s history, there was no precedent of that ever having actually been necessary.
Elliot had long known that he was in line to succeed Ernest and had been preparing for the role all that time. He was undoubtedly one of the youngest individuals to reach the office, but he was, after all, the heir of the Forster family, one of the primary founders of the foundation known as Elliot-Pound, and had even been selected upon birth to carry the name of his great ancestor. It was a certain fact that he would receive a position at Elliot-Pound upon graduating from Gallardworth, and it was more than likely that sooner or later, he would become the first Genestella to enter the upper management of one of the enterprise foundations that governed the world.
But now that he had finally reached a position of prominence, he couldn’t even pass a single day without being keenly reminded of his inadequacy. To begin with, his compatibility rating with the Lei-Glems only barely met the necessary standard at 82 percent, and there was no way that he could confidently say he had a handle on the Orga Lux.
Moreover, he may have defeated Ernest in their official ranking match, but there was no mistaking that Ernest had wanted to yield his position to him in the first place. After all, Ernest’s will to fight seemed to have greatly diminished ever since his team’s defeat at the Gryps. Elliot doubted he would have been able to defeat him had he transformed into that monster that had shown itself in the championship. While he might have inherited the Lei-Glems, he suspected—as, he assumed, everyone else did—that he would still lose were he to face that side of Ernest. And so, in a way, he had been unable to save face.
And then there were his actual duties as student council president. No matter how you looked at it, there was simply too much to do, and every passing day seemed busier than the last. And with the school fair coming up soon, things were only getting worse.
On top of that, there had been the incident with Percival, and, of course, the current issue with Noelle. He could feel a headache coming on just thinking about it.
“Ah…,” he murmured, letting out a tired sigh.
At this, Noelle finally glanced up, her expression one of concern.
Given that her long fringe almost completely covered her eyes, most people would no doubt have had difficulty reading her emotions. Elliot, however, had been close friends with her long enough to understand her feelings.
“E-Elliot? What’s wrong?”
“No, I’m okay… And didn’t I tell you not to be so familiar in here?” Elliot frowned.
“Ah! S-sorry! I let my guard down, what with everyone else having left…” Despite her words, Noelle seemed somewhat glad.
“Good grief… You can’t afford to slip up here.”
Elliot and Noelle weren’t siblings, but their relationship came close. Ever since the Invertia, the children of the great families of Europe often intermingled at social gatherings and the like. On top of that, the Forster and Messmer families were close in status and in geographical location, and so the two of them had practically been raised in each other’s company.
“Anyway, Noelle,” Elliot began, clearing his throat. “There’s something I want to check with you.”
“Oh?”
“Is it true that you’ve been training with the Ban’yuu Tenra?”
“Whanya?!” Noelle stepped backward, letting out a strange moan, before suddenly covering her mouth with her hands and quickly shaking her head from side to side.
“Come on, Noelle. You might as well have just admitted it.”
But if this was how she was going to react to his asking, then he wouldn’t pry any further.
“B-but how…?”
“Don’t underestimate Sinodomius. You might have gotten away with it were it only once or twice, but if you’re going to keep going there month after month, they were bound to notice sooner or later. The other schools’ intelligence networks have probably picked up on it by now, too.”
For her part, the Ban’yuu Tenra herself had no doubt anticipated as much. In any event, he didn’t have any proof of her knowing that, but neither was there any particular need for him to divulge that fact.
“Anyway, listen to me, Noelle. Whatever your reasons are, you’re being careless and lacking in discretion. This isn’t appropriate for one of Gallardworth’s Page Ones. And it’s out of the question for someone on the student council, let alone someone so close to the president.”
“Oh…” Noelle drooped her shoulders despondently.
“That said… The higher-ups are willing to overlook it. Although that does make me a bit uneasy.”
“Huh?” Noelle gaped, clearly taken aback by this outcome.
In actual fact, the other schools had taken similar courses of action.
All of them except the Ban’yuu Tenra’s own Jie Long, that was.
“If I had to guess, they’re probably willing to overlook it precisely because it’s the Ban’yuu Tenra. If it were, say, Le Wolfe’s Dirk Eberwein, they’d quite reasonably suspect some sort of ulterior motive, but the Ban’yuu Tenra isn’t that kind of person. She no doubt just wants to train you—all of you. And besides… If it helps our own students to become stronger, it looks like they regard that as a net win. That said, Jie Long seems to be quite up in arms at their own student council president working with students from rival schools.” Elliot stopped there, letting out a deep breath in an attempt to smother his inner thoughts.
What he hadn’t told Noelle was that the reaction of the academy’s higher-ups was essentially proof that they didn’t regard her as being particularly important. That was obviously the real deciding factor.
Since becoming the student council president, Elliot had gained access to all kinds of information that had previously been out of his reach—and there was no mistaking that the most shocking among all of that had to do with the Ban’yuu Tenra.
The Ban’yuu Tenra—a battle-crazed monster beyond compare, a being who had inhabited this world for upward of a thousand years.
If she was going out of her way to train students from the other schools, it could only be so that she herself could devour them when she was finished. In other words, no matter how much strength those students managed to obtain, it would still all be for nothing.
It was clear that the losses would outweigh the benefits in the long run. It wasn’t the kind of decision that the academy’s higher-ups—the enterprise foundation—would normally make.
However, Elliot knew that this time, there was something the foundation was prioritizing over and beyond such normal concerns.
“…Noelle, are you serious about entering the Lindvolus?” he asked, wishing in his heart she would withdraw.
Noelle, however, nodded in confirmation.
There was a tacit understanding among Gallardworth’s Page Ones that the top ten of their number would prioritize the team tournament, the Gryps, above all other Festas. While it was, in the end, no more than that—a tacit understanding, with no obligation to comply—Noelle’s current stance was nonetheless exceptional.
“But why?! There’s no need for you to fight in that freak show! Why do you insist on going it alone? Why can’t you wait until the next team tournament?”
It was fair to say that the upcoming Lindvolus would be the most anticipated Festa in decades.
There was every possibility that Orphelia Landlufen could become the first person ever to achieve three consecutive victories in the solo tournament, or that either Ayato Amagiri or Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld would become the second individual to achieve a grand slam. On top of that, Sylvia Lyyneheym had publicly announced her desire to avenge her previous defeat at Orphelia’s hands, and rumor had it that one of those automatons from Allekant that had caused such a stir in the Phoenix would be making an appearance, too. There might still be more than six months before the tournament got under way, but it was already a hot topic on the Net and all the television talk shows. The Festa might always have been met with excitement, but this time, things had reached a fever pitch.
That was no doubt why the academy’s upper management had decided not to interfere in Noelle’s case. They weren’t prepared to let Gallardworth, which prided itself on coming out on top in the three-year cycle overall, be overshadowed by any of the other schools.
And so they were willing, this time, to use her as a pawn that they could afford to sacrifice if necessary.
“B-but, I mean… This is the chance I’ve been waiting for,” Noelle murmured in a small voice.
“Chance? What do you mean?”
“To repay you, Elliot.”
“Huh…?” Elliot was left speechless by the unexpected response.
Noelle broke into a smile. “You were the one who came to help me, remember, when I was getting bullied as a kid? I’ve been wanting to do something to thank you for so long, and now I finally have the chance.”
So that was it. Noelle certainly wasn’t of the strongest character, and back then, she had yet to master her abilities as a Strega. So he had decided to keep an eye out for her. And when she found herself in trouble, he had stepped in to help. That was all there was to it.
“I know how hard it is for you, too, right now, Elliot. It can’t be easy following after Ernest Fairclough.”
“That’s…” Elliot fell silent, forced to acknowledge the truth of what she said.
Ernest had been met with great fanfare since the moment he had first enrolled at Gallardworth, and he soon after secured for himself the number one ranking, mastered the Lei-Glems, and led the academy to victory in the Gryps. He may have finished as a runner-up in his last tournament, but there was no denying that during his time at Gallardworth, he had been at the very top of practically every metric. That was proof not only of his individual fighting ability but also of his impressive tenure as student council president.
Elliot, on the other hand, may have only recently become student council president, but he had already entered the Festa twice, making the top four in the Phoenix and the fifth round in the Gryps. In terms of his own personal contributions to the academy, he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t up to Ernest’s level. That being the case, the only thing for it was to demonstrate his skills and produce results in other areas, but even if he sent the academy’s most promising students to the upcoming Lindvolus or the following year’s Phoenix—
“!” His thoughts had finally taken him to Noelle’s reasoning. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to…”
“…Yep. I’ll do everything I can,” she said, clenching her raised fists.
That’s not for you to worry about! You don’t need to take part!
“!” Elliot managed to swallow the words rising up inside him before they could burst out.
While Noelle was doing it for him, her actions would also benefit the academy. As student council president, he couldn’t get in the way of that.
Her actions were born of devotion—a brilliant, radiating virtue.
In other words, they were the kind of action the Lei-Glems was most fond of.
He couldn’t put a stop to it. Ernest, perhaps, might have been able to deceive the Orga Lux—but for now, at least, Elliot had yet to find a way of doing so himself.
“…I understand. Thank you, Noelle. We’re counting on you.” Cursing his powerlessness in the depths of his mind, he could do little but flash her a forced smile as he wrung the words from his lips.
Hufeng was in an unusual hurry as he made his way down the corridors of the Hall of the Yellow Dragon.
As the leader of the Wood sect, he wouldn’t normally allow himself to appear so flustered. Today, however, was different.
He was making his way to Xinglou, a letter clutched delicately in his hands.
At this time of day, she would no doubt be in the middle of training her disciples in the Room of the Vermilion Bird.
He turned a corner into the corridor surrounding the garden, when—
“Wha—?!”
As he realized that the door that should have been in front of him looked to have been blown off its hinges, he caught sight of a black shadow rolling through the garden with great force.
“Wh-what on earth… Master?!”
As he made sense of the scene in front of him, he realized that it was Xinglou that he was staring at—Xinglou who had been thrown across the garden.
“Heh… Heh-heh-heh! Wonderful! You’ve exceeded all expectation!” Xinglou’s expression was ecstatic as she licked at the blood running across her chin. That could mean only one thing—
Someone had managed to land an attack on her.
But that’s… That’s…
Hufeng, unable to believe his eyes, froze in place.
There was no one at Jie Long who could do that to Xinglou Fan, the Ban’yuu Tenra. Not even her highest disciple, Xiaohui Wu, had been able to pull off such a feat.
“No, it’s all thanks to your training, master. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Fuyuka…?!”
Stepping out of the Room of the Vermilion Bird was Jie Long’s third-ranked student, the Witch of Dharani, Fuyuka Umenokouji.
Her long, lustrous black hair falling over her slender eyes, every movement of her delicate body appeared graceful and composed. Her uniform was that of Jie Long, but her jacket was different, emblazoned with a crest shaped like a Japanese plum.
“I should have expected as much from the Umenokouji clan’s hidden techniques. You’ve surpassed my expectations. Perhaps I’m going to have to get serious.” An ominous light glimmered in Xinglou’s eyes as an overpowering sense of pressure suddenly erupted from her petite frame, bearing down on Fuyuka.
“No, no, that won’t do, master,” a remonstrating voice spoke up from behind Fuyuka—the head of the Water sect, Cecily Wong. “You can’t mean to crush her before she can take part in the Lindvolus, can you? That would be such a waste.”
“Are you trying to get between us, Cecily? It’s only thanks to our master’s training that I’ve been able to revive our lost techniques. I’m indebted to her.” Despite Xinglou’s ominous aura washing over her, Fuyuka’s expression had changed only slightly, one eye opening marginally wider. Even so, while her lips were curled upward in a grin, those eyes of hers were unmistakably serious.
“See, she says so herself. There’s no harm in a little taste.” Xinglou, on the other hand, was already brimming with excitement. As she grumbled under her breath, the air around her began to warp, with three mystical vajras, holy weapons, appearing in the empty space before her, circling her like miniature satellites.
Together, the three weapons—the Dokkosho, the Sankosho, and the Gokosho—made up the Gourensho—a sengu, or sage tool—left behind by the first Ban’yuu Tenra.
It was Jie Long’s greatest treasure, with everyone but Xinglou forbidden to lay so much as a hand on it.
“But I guess if you’re going to bring out something like that, then I’ll just have to…” Fuyuka, however, continued to maintain her composed demeanor as she quickly set to activating a seal with her fingers.
Hufeng could tell right away that, as a technique, it was completely different to seisenjutsu.
“I beseech thee, oh Taisai, that Ouban’s comet may drive out evil, that thou may grant me the protection of the Dragon King of the Sea…,” Fuyuka intoned, a vast vortex of mana building up around her.
This, too, was completely different to Cecily’s seisenjutsu. At the very least, as far as Hufeng could tell, seisenjutsu possessed no technique that consumed as much mana as this.
“H-hold on a minute, you two! Stop! Hufeng, say something to her!” Cecily, letting out an exasperated sigh, stared at him imploringly.
“Ah, well…” Hufeng, still not fully grasping the situation, could do little but continue to stand still in confusion, however.
“Oh, Hufeng? What’s that in your hand? Don’t tell me it’s…,” Fuyuka called out, her voice cold and threatening.
This was enough to make him return to his senses. He quickly adopted a formal posture, holding out the letter as he bowed before Xinglou. “Y-yes, master! You’ve received a message from Senior Disciple!”
“…Oh, have I now?” The sense of intimidation emanating from her immediately vanished. Smiling, Xinglou rushed over to receive the letter.
Fuyuka, watching on from the side, allowed her ability to dissipate with a shrug.
“Let’s hope he’s doing well…”
After his defeat in their semifinal match at the Gryps, Xinglou’s highest disciple and Jie Long’s second-ranked fighter, Xiaohui Wu, had taken a leave of absence from Jie Long and embarked on a journey to improve his skills. His goal, of course, was to find his own form of martial arts, and temper it to perfection.
He sought also to change himself, as one who had lived his life so far merely abiding by Xinglou’s teachings.
“Hmm, yes… Oh?” Xinglou scanned over the contents of the letter with excitement, until coming to a sudden stop. “He wouldn’t… I see… Hah! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Though she raised her eyebrows in surprise at whatever was written there, she apparently couldn’t stop herself from breaking out into a high-pitched laugh. She was laughing so hard, in fact, that tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.
“U-um… Master?”
What on earth could Xiaohui have written?
“I always knew he had a curious destiny, but to think he’d bump into that old fool! He must have been born under one lucky star…” Xinglou remained unable to control her laughter for a long moment. When she finally regained her composure, she turned her gaze toward Hufeng and the others. “Rest easy. According to this, he’s in good health. He’ll be busy training now, far away from us all here. And—he should be back for the Lindvolus.”
“!” Hufeng startled at this announcement. That meant, no doubt, that he intended to compete.
“Hufeng, I’ll trust you to carry out the necessary preparations.”
“Of course, master!”
If Xiaohui really was going to enter the tournament, that came as great news for him, too.
Since fighting alongside him in the Gryps, Hufeng had only gained more respect for Xiaohui’s strength and earnest nature. And now Xiaohui would take on the Festa once more, and the Lindvolus at that. He felt as if he could finally rest easy.
Hufeng, of course, wished he could compete himself, but having entered two Festas already, he only had one more opportunity remaining. Seeing as he wanted to better himself under Xinglou’s guidance a while more yet, he had no choice this time but to give it a miss.
“Hmm… In that case, I might get a chance to fight him myself. Oh, that’ll be fun,” Fuyuka said, concealing her mirth with the sleeve of her inner kimono. Her unshakable confidence was there for all to see.
To tell the truth, Hufeng had hardly ever seen Fuyuka fight.
While she liked to call herself Xinglou’s pupil, she was, strictly speaking, treated by everyone else here as a guest. On top of that, Xinglou had instructed her disciples to refrain from engaging with her as much as possible. She seemed to spend most of her time diligently studying techniques deep within the Hall of the Yellow Dragon.
From what Hufeng had heard, the Umenokouji clan seemed to possess a special bloodline and had passed down a system of techniques not unlike seisenjutsu for more than a thousand years. Those techniques were the sole property of the clan, and it seemed to be forbidden to share them with outsiders. Hufeng had gathered that she often engaged with Xinglou, and Cecily, too, being in charge of passing along seisenjutsu, but he himself had only had minor dealings with her.
Hufeng had seen her techniques in action only once, during an official ranking match. From what he could tell, the main technique she used then was a unique throwing one, similar to others used in seisenjutsu or jujitsu, but that was as much as he was able to learn then. At the time, he had doubted she would be able to stand up to him—let alone someone like Xiaohui.
And yet—
“But you know, Fuyuka, are you really okay with it…? Your techniques, I mean,” Cecily asked, her voice tinged with worry.
“What’s this now?” Fuyuka replied, tilting her head to one side.
“Well, like… It wouldn’t be against the rules, or anything, right?”
“There shouldn’t be a problem there…hopefully,” Fuyuka said with a loud guffaw.
“At any rate, this year’s Lindvolus is getting more and more interesting. One of our friends at the Liangshan even managed to land an attack on me the other day, too.”
“Wha—?!” Hufeng, Cecily, and even Fuyuka all startled at this offhand remark.
“By the Liangshan, you mean that private school that you’ve gone and opened, master? Do you really have anyone that strong there…?”
The private school had become a cause of considerable friction between Xinglou and the executives of integrated enterprise foundation of Jie Long—but at this revelation, Hufeng was willing to put that issue aside for a moment.
“…Who, exactly?” Fuyuka asked the very question that was on the tip of Hufeng’s own tongue.
Xinglou, however, responded only with a merry laugh. “Yes, the tournament should be fun, indeed.”
“And we’re done!”
Camilla was working tirelessly in her lab when the door suddenly slid open, her dear friend appearing in the entrance. “—! Ernesta!” she exclaimed when she realized who had spoken earlier.
“Hey, Camilla. Long time no see.” Ernesta waved to her with a smile, still yet to properly step inside.
“Where have you been all this time?! I haven’t been able to get in touch at all…!”
Ever since the end of the Phoenix, Ernesta had taken to going on frequent, long absences from Allekant—or rather, from Asterisk itself—to the point where Camilla hadn’t heard from her in months now. She had, of course, tried to call her friend countless times, but on most occasions, the call simply wouldn’t connect, and at those rare moments when it did, Ernesta merely mumbled on and on about equations and the like, as if half-asleep. It had reached a point where Camilla was seriously considering reporting her as missing.
“Sorry, sorry, it was an important time for work I was entrusted with.”
“I get that… But it isn’t anything shady, is it?”
Camilla herself was often asked to undertake work by outside research institutes, and it wasn’t unusual that they could turn into long-term projects. For someone of Ernesta’s talents, it was only natural that those requests would be both more numerous and more significant.
That said, it had all gone a bit too far this time.
“Come on, Camilla, you know I’m bound to confidentiality. Well, it was pretty boring work, to be honest, but the generous remuneration more than compensated for all that.”
“Remuneration…?” Whatever she must have meant, it probably wasn’t money. Given her current sponsors, the number of funds at her disposal was already practically limitless.
“Ah, master! If you had told us you were coming back, we would have prepared a proper reception for you!”
“Welcome back, master.”
Ardy and Rimcy both hurried toward them from the depths of the lab.
“You look well, you two. It looks like you’re both taking good care of Camilla.”
“They’ve been a great help. Much better than the staff, that’s for sure.”
Camilla let out a deep sigh, steeling her resolve, before glancing back toward Ernesta. “In that case, let me prepare Lenaty’s armaments. Given her specs, it wouldn’t do to arm her with just any old Lux.”
“Huh? That won’t do, Camilla! Why would you want to…?” Ernesta shook her head.
Camilla, in an unusual move for her, raised a hand to stop her. “If you’re going to have her call me her father, you could at least let me do this much.”
“…Don’t tell me this is about your body?”
This time, it was Camilla’s turn to shake her head.
It was certainly true that Ernesta had built half of Camilla’s own body, using the same technology that powered the puppets, and that Camilla, in turn, had sworn to dedicate half of her life to her. And yet—
“That has nothing to do with it. I want this…on a personal level. Intuitively. Some voice deep inside me is telling me I need to do it,” Camilla responded, recalling what Hilda had said to her some months prior.
“This seems like a good opportunity to let you in on a little secret. It’s that sense of intuition that sets people like me and Ernesta Kühne apart from the likes of you, Camilla Pareto. All great scientists are gifted with intuition. We have it. Mediocre researchers like yourself don’t.”
If she could see her now, she would throw those words right back at her: I might not be the best, but I’m a scientist, too, Hilda!
“…Right. Well, I guess we can do that.” Ernesta flashed her a defeated smile.
“Just so you know, I’m still planning on entering with Rimcy as well. If she ends up fighting against Lenaty, I won’t let her go easy on her.”
She was getting Rimcy ready to be outfitted with a new weapon system designed specifically to defeat Saya Sasamiya.
With that, she ought to at least be a match for Lenaty. It would leave Ardy at a disadvantage, but that couldn’t be helped this time around.
“Oh? I’d expect nothing less.” Ernesta’s laugh was just like Lenaty’s, as if they really were mother and child.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! ’Sup, ladies! Aren’t we as beautiful as ever! Why don’t you give us a hug, eh?”
Irene was passing her lunch break at the Le Wolfe Black Institute the same way she always did—sitting at a picnic table with her sister, Priscilla, in the courtyard in front of the main school building, gulping down a lunch her sister had made—when a man with sunglasses, standing at the head of a crowd of close to twenty people, suddenly called out to her.
He was tall and burly; his chest was covered in a layer of thick red hair; and his teeth glinted as he shone her a broad and somewhat threatening smile. His eyes may have been hidden behind his sunglasses, but it was quite clear that he was in a cheerful mood. His arms and neck—practically his whole uniform, for that matter—sparkled with all kinds of luxury accessories.
“Tch! What do you want, Rodolfo? Don’t come any closer…!” Irene warned, rising to her feet and spearing the man with a threatening glare. This was the Institute’s second-highest-ranked fighter, Rodolfo Zoppo—the Mage of the Crushing Star, alias Basadone.
“Irene…,” her sister tried.
“Keep your distance, Priscilla.”
Priscilla fell back as instructed. Compared with how she had been even less than a year ago, her movements now displayed no openings or weaknesses. Her training with the Ban’yuu Tenra must have been paying off, but it still wouldn’t be a good idea for her to get involved with the man in front of them. It was always a bad turn of events to get caught in his line of sight.
“Hey, hey, hey! Come on now, I didn’t do nothing! We’re just here to have some fun, right? Ha-ha-ha!” Rodolfo spread his arms wide, letting out a gregarious laugh. That sentence—We’re just here to have some fun—was practically his catchphrase.
“Unfortunately, we’ve got no plans to hang out with you or your thugs,” Irene reiterated. “We’re having lunch, so scram.”
“Come on now,” Rodolfo continued, completely ignoring her demonstrations. “You know, I heard a little rumor. That you and your sis are gonna enter the Lindvolus. Is it true?”
“…So what if it is?”
Rodolfo was the head of the Omo Nero, the largest mafia organization operating out of the Rotlicht. It was said that the group had over a thousand members, and that much of the Le Wolfe Black Institute was under their control. Their ability to gather information wasn’t to be underestimated.
“So it’s true, then? Well, damn it. So you think you can take down Erenshkigal? You’d be better off rethinking that. There ain’t anything fun about that kinda work. Don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid that, unlike you, we’re not looking to have fun.”
Rodolfo’s point wasn’t, however, entirely incorrect.
There was no debating that Orphelia Landlufen was the indisputable favorite to win, but the other schools were all entering formidable contestants, too. Irene’s job, as Dirk had instructed her, was to take down as many of them as possible.
Not only that, but this time, she would receive a bonus for every opponent she defeated. In other words, the better she performed, the closer she could come to clearing her debt. Just thinking about it was enough to get her worked up.
“Hah! What a sad way to go! Why don’t you quit whoring yourself out and come have some fun at our place? Come on, we’ll take care of your money problems. I’ll even give you a loan!”
“Who are you calling a whore?! I’ll kill you if you so much as try to lay one of those fat, disgusting fingers of yours on either of us!”
The Omo Nero wasn’t exactly hostile to Dirk, but they weren’t exactly on good terms, either.
“…Hey, asshole. What makes you think you can talk to the boss like that?” a burly skinhead bellowed, stepping forward from the crowd. Irene didn’t remember his name, but she remembered seeing his face amid the rookies who had recently entered the school’s rankings. “I don’t care if you’re third or not, if you disrespect the boss—”
“Heeey! We’re just inviting these beauties to have a bit of fun! You gonna get in the way? Huh?” Rodolfo, still wearing his artificial smile, glared at the man with the full strength of the midsummer sun.
“Gwuh…?!”
At that moment, the skinhead’s skull seemed to burst into flames.
He fell limp, the whites of his eyes showing as he lay sprawled faceup on the ground. Fortunately, it looked like he was still breathing. His head seemed badly burned on the left side, but it was still intact, at least.
Without even glancing toward him, Rodolfo made a sign with his fingers, and some of his other followers began to drag the skinhead away.
“…Damn it, this ain’t fun. But remember this. You and your sister are both my type. So I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ha-ha-ha! I’m gonna be in it, too! The Lindvolus!”
“!”
Rodolfo was currently in his second year of college but, until now, hadn’t even entered the Festa once.
Irene, like practically everyone else, had assumed he simply wasn’t interested in it.
“Oh? What’s gotten into you? You’ve left it a bit late, don’t you think?”
“Huh? It’ll be fun! Ha-ha-ha!” Rodolfo bellowed with laughter once more, before turning his back to her. “Go easy on me if we bump into each other there, won’t ya?” And with that, he disappeared into his crowd of followers.
“…Hmph.” Only after watching him disappear behind the school building did Irene allow herself to relax.
“Sis, are you okay…? Have some water.”
“Ah, that was tense…” She took a mouthful from the bottle that Priscilla had offered her. “Brrg! That bastard! Does he think his rank gives him the right to act that way or something?”
“Um, I was watching the whole time, and he didn’t leave any openings or anything…”
“Oh? So you can tell that now, can you?”
Priscilla’s growth over the past few months certainly was remarkable. As a regenerative, she had a lot of hidden potential, and if she kept on following her current path, there was every possibility that she could undergo a dramatic transformation from her prior self. She still wasn’t strong enough, however, to face Rodolfo or his lackeys.
“…If you wind up facing him in the Lindvolus, tell me you’ll withdraw.”
Among the Genestella, Rodolfo’s ability made him close to invincible.
The only real exception to that was Orphelia. In fact, Rodolfo had challenged her only once and been soundly defeated. But if he had been able to get within range of her, Irene couldn’t help but wonder what the outcome would have been.
“Sorry, Irene. I won’t withdraw, not even then.”
“Huh…?” Irene stared back at her younger sister in mute shock.
“I mean, I’m the best one to face him, right? In terms of tactics and ability. With that battle style of yours, you’re the one we should be worried about.”
“W-well, that might be true, but…”
At the moment, Irene’s fighting style revolved around close combat. No matter how she tried to look at it, she clearly wasn’t suited to face Rodolfo.
“You remember what I told you, right? That if you’re going to fight, I’ll fight alongside you,” Priscilla said earnestly, leaning forward. “We’d better finish eating. Break’s almost over!” she continued with a gentle smile, holding out the lunch box.
“…I’m no match for you, huh?” Irene could do nothing but return her sister’s grin before lifting a stick of skewered meatballs to her mouth.
The air-window still open, Sylvia, dressed only in her underwear, held out a one-piece dress in front of the mirror.
“Hmm, I guess this one’s a little… Hmm…”
It was certainly pretty, but the design was perhaps a little girly. She wanted to convey a slightly classier impression.
Her bed was covered in a huge pile of clothes that she had taken out of her wardrobe.
“And—are you even listening to me, Sylvia?” Petra’s exasperated voice came from the other side of the air-window.
“No. You keep saying the same thing over and over again, Petra.”
At this honest response, Petra’s expression became suddenly sullen. Sylvia could imagine her eyes, though hidden behind her visor, staring up at her. “I’m only thinking about what’s best for you…”
“Ha-ha! Come on, Petra, you don’t expect me to believe that after all we’ve been through?”
“…Taking your achievements and abilities into account, it only makes sense to give the upcoming Festa a miss,” she continued in a soft voice. “If you wait till the next Lindvolus, your chances of winning will be considerably greater.”
In other words, Petra thought she wouldn’t be able to defeat Orphelia and was urging her not to waste her limited opportunities to enter the tournament.
Despite this, Sylvia didn’t feel insulted by the older woman’s appraisal. No matter how you looked at it, Orphelia’s power was undeniably overwhelming.
“I understand the logic behind what you’re saying, but why are you only bringing it up now? Before, you were happy not to interfere with whatever I decided to do, whether to enter or not. Isn’t that right, Petra?”
“The situation has changed. It would be one thing if we could be certain that you would reach Orphelia in the final, but I fear that such a view is now rather optimistic.”
“I see. So you’d be happy if I could make runner-up. Still, the answer is no. I’ve already publicly declared my intent to take revenge on Orphelia, so if I drop out now, everyone will think I’m too cowardly to follow through.”
As she spoke, she thought of perhaps adopting a monochrome look, with black skinny pants and a white shirt, but she soon changed her mind. That would be too simple. She really was in a bind here.
“Which is why I’m suggesting we organize a large-scale live tour to take place over the winter. If you’re clearly busy with work, that should lessen the criticism.”
That was half-true—and half-wrong.
Sylvia’s popularity came not only from her musical career but also because that career had been born out of her performance in the arena. If she were to turn her back on all that, the mainstay of her fan base would collapse beneath her.
“As I told you before, there are too many irregularities with this year’s Lindvolus. Orphelia Landlufen is just the tip of the iceberg. Every school is entering their best fighters this time around. Everyone, except perhaps Gallardworth’s entrants, will pose a considerable challenge. There’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to reach the championship.”
“Isn’t that a good thing, if my opponents are stronger? It’ll certainly get the crowd more excited. And that’ll work to my advantage too, no?”
On top of that, she fully intended to carry out her responsibilities as Queenvale’s reigning top-ranked fighter.
“Neithnefer will compete even if you don’t. On top of that, Violet Weinberg’s growth has been extraordinary, as has Minato Wakamiya’s… Although I suppose we have the Ban’yuu Tenra to thank for those two.”
“Ah, speaking of Minato, has she gotten that Orga Lux yet?”
Sylvia hadn’t seen her for a while now but hoped she was managing to keep well.
When she thought of that puppy-like—no, rabbit-like—girl she always felt her lips forming a smile. Minato just had a certain charming aura about her.
“We also have—”
“Yes, yes, I know. I am the student council president, you realize?”
“Then, will you withdraw?”
“Those are separate issues.”
“…Sylvia.” Petra’s voice seemed to drop down a level.
Perhaps she had finally managed to anger her, Sylvia wondered.
“Hmm, well, it isn’t that I don’t trust everyone. But you know, I don’t intend to lose. No matter who my opponent is.”
Even if she faced Ayato, the champion of both the Phoenix and the Gryps, for example, she would still be confident in her victory.
But it sounded like he wasn’t going to enter out of consideration for Julis.
Just thinking about how dearly he seemed to regard that princess with the rose-colored hair was enough to make her feel slightly…no, pretty jealous.
“Words alone won’t secure victory. What makes you so sure?”
“I’m preparing some new songs. Three, in fact… I wrote one of them for Orphelia especially.”
“Three…? Why am I only hearing about this now?”
Sylvia used her songs to activate her abilities and so took sole responsibility for composing both the arrangements and the lyrics. For that reason, when she wanted to manifest a particular effect, they often required considerable time and effort to produce (she could still improvise, of course, but in that case, their accuracy and strength would be greatly reduced).
“They’re not finished, that’s why. I was going to tell you when they were ready.”
“Hmm…” Petra sank deep into thought, no doubt realizing that the conditions had changed yet again.
“Sorry, Petra. I know why you’re telling me to quit, and I can see your logic, but I want to do this. And I want to win, against Orphelia.”
She still wasn’t able to forget the depths of her regret that day she had lost in the championship match of the last Lindvolus.
“I can’t give this up.”
She was, after all, a sore loser.
All the targets that she had set for herself—as a songstress, as Queenvale’s top-ranked fighter, in her search for Ursula, and in the pursuit of love—she wanted to succeed in every one of them. She was fighting to achieve all of those goals.
Of course, there were things that she simply wouldn’t be able to do. As frustrating as it was, there would be times when she’d be forced to accept setbacks, when she would have to decide between one thing or another. But at the very least, she didn’t want to have to live with regrets when such times came.
“Well… All right. If you’re that set on it, I guess there’s no talking you out of it.” With this, Petra let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping. She looked to have finally given up. “Why don’t you try the off-shoulder blouse at the end of the bed, along with those culottes in front of you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re going on a date with Ayato Amagiri, no?”
“Ah… Well, something like that.”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a date, but rather, one of their regular meetings to exchange information on the Golden Bough Alliance. That, however, didn’t mean she still wasn’t going to give it her all. She didn’t get many opportunities to meet Ayato in person, and she had her heart set on winning the contest over him.
“Oh, this is nice…”
As she lifted the two pieces that Petra had suggested in front of her, she could only nod in satisfaction at the refreshing look.
“Nice advice. There’s no beating a former top idol and model,” Sylvia said in praise.
Petra relaxed her mouth into a faint smile. “Given your attitude toward losing, I have to support you where I can. Although, if you were to ask me, I would warn you that your opponents are quite formidable… Do your best.” With that, the air-window snapped shut before Sylvia could even determine whether she was trying to be sarcastic or encouraging.
“…I don’t need you to tell me that, Petra.”
But, of course, she was right.
In a sense, her current contest was even more grueling than the Lindvolus.
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