Wow!
As expected of a Supernatural Ability―Sona's 'Telekinetic Self-Enhancement' sure is busted, huh? That super-enhanced punch of hers was even more powerful than I anticipated it to be, too, sending Avon Laura flying like that!
She, who had ended up rolling across the sandy arena floor, soon rose back to her feet like a true tenacious bug, but that was to be expected.
Although it was not without accruing some damage, someone belonging to the Wardens is not someone to give up just like that.
Show me... How long can you go on for, mutt?
Try with all your might.
Struggle.
Can you draw out the full power of the twins, all by yourself?
A dog so precious to the Wardens like yourself is someone extremely hard to come by, let alone one with your combat capabilities.
You belong to them.
To the people behind the incident I cannot remember.
The people I want to see suffer.
You lot claim to be saving the world, but can you put your money where your mouth is?
Are you nothing more than a dog with no bite, or can you show me that you truly deserve to be coming after me again when you already lost me once?
Such a sight―I am deeply interested in witnessing it with my own eyes.
Prove your mettle to me.
Avon Laura.
= = =
***
= = =
Her eyes firmly shut, Avon Laura didn't bother to wipe the grime of battle off her face and armour as she focused wholly on what lay within.
Despite having her eyes closed, however, she could still see clear as day.
Was it her mind's eye? Perhaps something similar.
Either way, what sat in the centre of that vision was a red ball the size of a star. It was plain-looking, a simple ball of yarn. Although it was unimaginably difficult to reach this point alone, she was a person more than capable of having her efforts bear fruit.
Surrounding the yarn was but the vastness of space, leaving all to be desired, but it had an ominous atmosphere around it.
As if the ball of red yarn was of grave importance.
However, Avon Laura did not mind this, and immediately began to tug at the object within her mind. At first, the ball had a complete shape, but it soon deflated.
It started with a single thread.
Clang~!
Suddenly, her sword struck something seemingly made of metal, the recoil making it bounce off whatever had been hit.
She pulled that thread a little more.
Clang~!
Again, there was a clear collision with something.
Then, she yanked the thread hard.
"Ow..."
"Sana..."
―Two small and deadpan voices, seemingly belonging to the two girls.
Avon Laura's eyes remained close all the while, but the results were undoubtedly there.
Success.
She went again, but this time tugged on a different thread.
Woosh-!
...Nothing? They must have dodged, leaving nothing but the wind pressure from the sword slicing the air, but Avon Laura didn't have the luxury of contemplating such meaningless things.
She just continued to pull the thread.
Clang~!
Clang~!
Clang~!
Clang~!
Clang~!
Strangely, no matter how many times or how hard the thread was pulled, it only ended in the same result; her attack being blocked by something.
It was not her duty to figure out what that something was and adapt, however.
Instead, the only thought that occurred was along the lines of 'it must be the wrong thread', and she immediately went for a third.
Clang~!
Clang~!
Another dead thread.
Clang~!
Without hesitation, she tried a fourth and a fifth.
Clang~!
Clang~!
A sixth and a seventh, and even an eighth and a ninth.
Clang~!
Clang~!
Clang~!
But somehow, not even the tenth thread managed to secure a solid hit.
Clang~~~!
Something was wrong.
But, there was nothing Avon Laura could do; in her current state, continuing to pull the red threads leading from the yarn was the best course of action.
It being all she had, there was no other choice.
Swinging her sword in a wide arc―
Woosh-!
―The blade hit nothing. However, that didn't mean it was a useless effort.
Thud.
Something fell to the ground; presumably the enemy after losing her balance.
Avon Laura clutched the cord of yarn in her hands. Would this be the thread to end it all? Just as she was about to pull on it, she froze at the sight before her.
――The thread began to decay.
Blackening all over, the thread rapidly withered into dust and vanished.
A timeline had been cut short.
Death.
If she had continued following that thread, death would accompany it―instinctually feeling this, Avon Laura's body drenched in sweat along with the immense relief.
Because one thread had disappeared, the great ball of yarn had slightly reduced in size. It did not mean much, though, as all Avon had to do was find another thread.
And that did not take long.
Clang~!
She brought down her sword from the sky in a vertical downswing, smashing the target in front of her with a violent impact, but to seemingly no avail.
Drawing on that thread again, her body swiftly followed up with a forward thrust.
Clang~!
Despite not being able to penetrate the opponent's defences, the stab managed to push them back, and with an immediate jump backwards to gain some distance, there was a moment of silence before―
Boom-!!
―They had fallen back onto one of the innumerable landmines littering the arena.
Avon Laura did not think for a second to leave it at that, however, as there was still another enemy remaining, so she continued to pull at the thread.
Dashing towards a certain direction on her south-western side, she arrived within an instant, but just as she was about to yank that thread and end it all, she paused.
Just like before, the thread darkened in a flash and began to wither away.
...Why...?
Feeling the weight of the fibre in her hands evaporate, she hurriedly grabbed the nearest one and hauled it, causing her arm to swing.
Woosh-!
It appeared that, due to the slight delay before her attack, it had barely missed its intended target. But, again, all was fine.
She only needed to pull the thread.
―Before she could do that, though, the line of thread she held yet again turned from red to black, and then into ash that scattered into the endless darkness of her mindscape.
...Why?
Trying another thread, the same result occurred.
Why?
Again.
Why...!?
And again.
Along with this perpetually repeating cycle, the grand red ball of thread that was akin to the sun of our solar system just prior, was now nothing more than the size of a blue whale.
Nonetheless, it didn't end there.
No, she still needed to win the battle; win the battle and capture that man.
To save the world, even if fate was utterly exhausted as a result, she needed to find a winning line―the path to victory.
Thus, she continued.
But it wasn't looking good.
One thread after another dyed black and withered into nothingness within her grasp, and despite her ever-quickening pace, her panic-stricken endeavour to find and pull a thread that would lead to the desired future was appearing more and more futile.
The ball of yarn shrank.
From the size of a star, to the size of a planet.
From the size of a planet, to the size of a moon.
From the size of a moon, to the size of a large structure.
To a small building, to an animal, to a beach ball.
It shrank and shrank and shrank.
Withered away like a rose bush in winter, wilting with no hope to recover.
And eventually...
...Why...?
'Fate' was reduced to the size of an ant.
...How...?
Silently bending down, she took between her fingers the final thread.
There was no other option.
Feebly picking up this thread, the intention of pulling it didn't even enter her consciousness as it withered away before her very eyes, and she was left with nothing.
Avon Laura was destined to perish.
Coming to this belated and cruel realisation, she fell backwards from her crouched position onto the floor.
All alone in this dark and dismal space, she buried her head into her knees.
Quietly, she sobbed.