"Nooo, Rosclay…!" "Rosclay!"
"It can't be… Rosclay!" "Rosclay! Get up, Rosclay!"
Sorrow and bewilderment was filling the stands. Watching the progress from the half-underground entrance into the arena, Elea the Red Tag closed her eyes.
Kia had won. Finally, Elea could have peace of mind. A ray of hope, at last.
Kia is invincible. Faster than Rosclay, she bested him with a single word.
The fact was proven to her in the best way possible—that Kia could go on and win the remaining three matches in just the same way.
The largest faction, ruined by their sponsored candidate, Rosclay, would need to incorporate Kia into their ranks, or the Sixways Exhibition couldn't continue on. Since they needed to defeat Lucnoca the Winter, who was bound to continue on advancing in the third match down the line.
The fearsome ancient dragon that easily butchered Alus the Star Runner and turned the Mari Plains into a frozen land of death. In front of now-evident disaster, there was none other than Kia the World Word who could accomplish such a feat.
Furthermore, if they were going to control Kia, it meant they absolutely couldn't eliminate Elea. It was for that reason she had spent such a long time building up a relationship of trust.
Her tutor, Elea, who Kia trusted more than anyone else.
The route to victory through the remaining part of the bracket had already been paved by Rosclay.
With this, the Sixways Exhibition was over.
"Silence!"
There was a clear and resonant voice amid the screams and uproar. The adjudicator tasked with observing all the matches of the Sixways Exhibition. A stout woman with a large frame, stern and solemn—Meeka the Whispered.
Her voice calmed the arena as it was descending into madness.
"As was agreed upon before the match! This true duel will be decided via one of two ways! A combatant is knocked down and doesn't get up. A combatant forfeits the match of their own volition."
Thus, with the match clearly decided to all present, she declared— "However, Rosclay the Absolute has not been knocked down yet!"
Meeka's declaration.
It took a moment for Elea to understand what it really meant.
It can't be.
She felt like she was once again being dragged back into a terrifying dark abyss.
Meeka's expression was as firm as steel.
Her tone remained steady, as if she was narrating a clear and obvious truth. "As long as this fact holds true, this match will continue!"
The crowd's cheers welled up once again.
The keeper of the judiciary. Aureatia's Twenty-Sixth Minister, Meeka the Whispered.
Neither Elea…nor even Haade had raised any objections to tasking her with observing all the matches. As the Twenty-Nine Officials all confronted and spied on each other, she was supposed to be the neutral adjudicator they had all agreed
on.
She's been roped into the scheme, too… I can't believe they even got to
Meeka. The adjudicator for the matches is our enemy—
She heard the cracking sound of something breaking. The mountain burying Rosclay's body was crumbling away, and it was slowly cut apart by a myriad of straight swords. Sword Craft Arts from his remote support.
No. She had a bigger problem than Meeka.
The fact that their fight was deemed to continue—the fact that the cheers were once again erupting through the arena.
From within the mass of earth, gaps appeared just big enough to breathe through, and a gauntleted hand appeared. Moving and grabbing a sword.
Elea gasped.
There was one more miscalculation. She looked toward Kia.
She didn't…kill him…!
He wanted to gather his thoughts, but he was utterly drained.
His brain cells, cut off from oxygen, were reaching their limits just by maintaining consciousness, and various joints were dislocated or outright destroyed from being instantaneously squeezed under the earthen pressure.
Ignoring the intense pain, he fit his dislocated left shoulder back into place.
Gritting his teeth hard enough to draw blood, he nevertheless let out neither a scream nor a sob.
Because he was Rosclay the Absolute.
…Earthen Craft Arts. Irregularly fast activation speed…and scale…
Was his perception of them correct? This wasn't adequate contemplation but merely the work of confirming what he saw with his own eyes.
Laboring against the pain, Rosclay brandished his weapon.
Kia the World Word, already making to leave the arena, looked back at the knight dubiously.
She knit her eyebrows, as if she was looking at a true fool. "…What?"
Fed up and disdainful—even then, to Rosclay, it didn't matter.
Even in that brief instant, he needed time. The time from stirring the girl's emotions until she once again shifted to the attack. Time where, no matter how brief, he could study his enemy's true nature and pick out a route to victory.
Her incantation…was nonexistent. It wasn't a proper incantation. Her order to "bury me," was a signal to some other people. Using a radzio just like me… for support from someone outside the match… But no, given that I'm her opponent here, then the soldiers would've verified for me whether she possessed some communication devices or not… A cleverly disguised method… Is there some other method of making Word Arts work remotely…? No… That's not it…!
He couldn't get his thoughts together. It wasn't simply due to Rosclay's fatigue, either.
It was because, according to the known logic of this world, the phenomenon Kia manifested was far too abnormal.
Elea hadn't made contact with any other powerful players at all…! Even if there was someone here providing Kia support…! The only explanation is…with just simple Craft Arts alone, she managed to cast Word Arts…that possessed power and activation speed beyond even a self-proclaimed demon king's level!
And because he saw the conclusion he absolutely didn't want to reach.
If this phenomenon was being produced by some sort of mechanism, then he could prevent it from working. If he was able to perfectly see through the trick, Rosclay could conversely link it to a path to victory.
However, if there was no sort of mechanism or trick at all?
If the phenomenon he witnessed was the answer to it all—and that this young girl named Kia was a Word Arts user capable of using such tremendous Craft Arts?
Was it really okay for a monster of this level to appear out of nowhere without warning? A monster this ludicrous. This unparalleled.
…I need some path to victory—
Rosclay's body was once again covered in soil. It was instantaneous. "Bury him… What's with you?"
It's impossible.
Once again, within his darkened, enclosed hell, this time he heard the sound of the armor on his right leg break apart. Kia's Craft Arts might easily be capable of strangling someone to death under the pressure of the soil. She was simply not doing so.
He had gained no new information. He was handled in the exact same way as before, and Rosclay was completely unable to avoid her attack.
"Ownopellal iokouto. Yurowastera. Vapmarsia wanwao. Sarpmorebonda. Utokma." (From Ownopellal to the soil of Kouto. Reflect in replica. Jeweled crevice. Standstill stream. Advance.)
A voice speaking Word Arts immediately resounded from a radzio and tried to bring Rosclay back into the fight.
It's impossible. Professor Ownopellal. It's impossible.
Due to the experience and judgment he had cultivated for himself, he unfortunately understood it more clearly than anything else.
Spitting up dirt, simply trying to walk forward sent an intense pain through him from the tips of his destroyed toes.
This is totally impossible for me… I wasn't able to devise any sort of measures for this situation. I wasn't able to estimate an enemy like this. I'm a mere minia. I can't win.
He wanted to collapse. He thought it was pointless.
What could he do up against an impossible-to-foresee and totally incomprehensible monster like this?
Stabbing his sword scabbard into the ground like a cane, Rosclay stood up. "…Listen."
Kia let out an exasperated tone.
Rosclay readied his sword, just as his staggering amount of training had drilled into him.
Earnestly finishing this meaningless motion was enough to make a painful groan slip out from deep in his throat.
"I don't really want to be a bully here."
"…I— Koff. I'm a knight who knows nothing but the sword. I'd like to taste the honor of facing off against the pinnacle of Word Arts for as long as possible."
While he was spouting his cheap bravado, he hoped the next attack wouldn't come. Rosclay was floundering.
…Floundering for a way to kill this girl.
There was a by-product of the Craft Arts that dismantled the mountain of soil. Straight swords that were littered about the ground.
Due to their vast numbers, it should have, in fact, meant she couldn't keep aware of all of them.
"Antel io Jadwedo. Laeus 4 motbode. Temo yamvista. Iusemno. Xaonyaji." (From Antel to the steel of Jawedo. The axis is the fourth left finger. Pierce sound. Descend from clouds. Circulate.)
The remote Power Arts support sent a sword flying. From a blind spot behind Kia, to sever her medulla oblongata.
The blade melted away and evaporated.
"?"
The girl's eyes widened, and she turned around to look at the sword's vestiges on the ground behind her.
It seemed she hadn't even noticed a surprise attack had come at her until it was all over.
"…Oh, I forgot to actually say it out loud, didn't I? Protect me from all danger."
The Word Arts Kia had used during their match didn't end at the Craft Arts that sealed her enemies away in an earthen coffin. Keeping herself protected was a shield of Thermal Arts powerful enough to blast away steel.
Absolute defensive power that had fully warded her against the famous poison of Higuare the Pelagic, without her noticing a thing.
To Rosclay, from the start, this latest attack had been nothing more than useless resistance with little chance of success. However.
Is there even any chance…?
Swords physically wouldn't penetrate her. In other words, none of the methods of attack at Rosclay's disposable would have any effect on her at all.
The truth was enough to shatter his mind to pieces.
Falling to his knees in despair, he was on the verge of crumbling to the ground. He stepped forward to hold himself aloft.
Rosclay steadied his blade, the motions deeply ingrained within him, and stared hard straight at Kia.
Stop. It's impossible. I can't do anything.
Even though he wanted to drop his sword, even though he wanted to collapse, even if he wanted to scream that it was all impossible, he was unable to do so.
Rosclay the Absolute was forbidden from using the defeat condition known as "surrender."
"Huh… Excuse me…? This is weird, right…?"
It was Kia this time who puzzled over the true nature of her opponent.
Here she had thought that after showing off how overwhelmingly strong she was, there wouldn't be any need to fight anymore.
However, the adjudicator Meeka had declared the fighting would continue, and Kia would still need to do something else in order to claim victory over the match.
"I mean… You get it, don't you? Any way you slice it…it's over. You're gonna lose."
"..."
Kia was far stronger than this Rosclay man in front of her. Stronger than any one of the other hero candidates entered into the Sixways Exhibition.
Be it Mele the Horizon's Roar or Lucnoca the Winter, with a single word, she could make them grovel before her. She had thought that that sort of fight would've been all it took to claim the glory of victory and the salvation of her homeland.
"What do you think you're going to do? From over there…and with those injuries."
"…Hrk, koff!"
Yet Rosclay the Absolute was abnormal.
With a body so covered in wounds, the young girl could plainly see it all with a glance, nevertheless, he stood true.
Kia remembered the words Meeka had said. The conditions for winning this fight.
"…Hey, so. I just need to make sure you can't get up, right?" "I swear, I will—"
"Stop him."
Rosclay was crushed to the ground as if pounded by an invisible iron sledgehammer.
All the power was erased from his body, down to the tips of his fingers. "…Look! He can't move at all now! Right?"
A flawless victory, indisputable to anyone there to witness it.
Kia smiled and looked toward Meeka. She looked to the spectators surrounding the area.
"Rosclay…" "No, Rosclay…!"
"Get up! Rosclay!" "Rosclay! Rosclay!"
Meeka was silent. She didn't declare the match decided.
Kia could keep these Word Arts active for an eternity. It should have been a clear and evident win.
Knocked down and doesn't get back up.
Everyone believed that Rosclay could still get back up from this situation. Rosclay the Absolute was obligated to keep fighting until the bitter end.
"Roooosclaaay!"
"Don't give up, Rosclay!" "Rosclay! Rosclay!" "Rosclay!"
"Nooo, Rosclay, please…!"
For Kia, it was a terribly sickening spectacle. "…What's with all this, seriously?!"
She looked at Rosclay, his movements halted. Naturally, there were no signs he would make a comeback.
…Far more than that, in fact. Kia realized the truth of the situation.
"Eek!"
With this, the Word Arts she could've kept up in perpetuity were expelled. Rosclay grabbed the ground, coughing horribly, and stood up.
"Gahak…! Koff, hngh…gah…!"
No—he wasn't just having a coughing fit. It went far beyond that.
His coughs were equivalent to the panting gasps of a victim moments before they drowned to death.
Just then, Kia realized Rosclay's breathing had stopped.
Kia's awesome Word Arts had, faithful to her own will, stopped all of Rosclay's movements. Down to his involuntarily biological activity.
Kia backed off to avoid Rosclay. She didn't want to get close to him. Rosclay couldn't even pursue her.
Standing squarely on the ground, he stared straight at Kia and properly readied his sword.
"Rosclay! Rosclay!" "Rosclay!" "Rosclay got up!" "Rosclay!"
"Wh-why…? Why're you getting up?!"
The girl's appeal didn't reach the enthusiastically fervent crowd. It was an awfully unfair and terrifying scene.
Why wasn't it all over? Why wouldn't anyone let it end? "I—I… I'm clearly winning here, aren't I?! Right?!"
By this point, she was tearfully wailing.
Surrounded by the vast arena, everything was trying to make Kia out to be the enemy.
"Rosclay!"
"Rosclay!" "Rosclay!" "Rosclay!" "Rosclay!"
Aureatia's strongest knight was standing. Dragging his feet along, he stepped firmly and drew closer.
Even when that state alone should have made it clear that he couldn't do anything.
The knight didn't withdraw. The minia didn't give up. "After all that. After I had clearly had you totally beat!"
She wanted to win. She wanted to protect the homeland she held dearer than anything else.
What did she need to do? What did she have to do to win against this horrible foul play?
What were they trying to make her do? What did they expect Kia to do beyond what she already had?
"Kill him!"
Even though there was a voice screaming out to Kia, it mixed in with the cheers and didn't reach her.
Clinging desperately to the arena's entrance, Elea screamed.
It was clear by now. There remained only one way to decisively make this champion lose.
"Kill him! Killing that man…is the only way! Kia!"
On that day Elea, secretary to the Seventeenth Minister, made her desires known.
"Would you relinquish your seat within the Twenty-Nine Officials to me?"
The elderly Seventeenth Minister laughed under his breath and seemed to brush off the conversation.
He must have taken his secretary's question as little more than a silly joke.
…Yet he then wore a distant, far-reaching look and gripped his pipe in his mouth.
The fireplace lit up his profile.
"…Well, now. I suppose when the time comes, it'll be passed on to you, then."
"You're toying with me."
"Not at all. You're young yet, but I think you're an exceptional young woman, worthy of a seat among the Twenty-Nine Officials. There'll be some who'll quibble about your heritage, but that isn't anything to get hung up on. From here on out, competent and capable people need to govern this country and be there to help the Queen."
Standing behind the easy chair he sat in, Elea was at a standstill, maintaining her smile. She didn't know what sort of expression she needed to twist her face into next.
The Seventeenth Minister was lying. The people who surrounded Elea were her enemies, scheming to deceive her and force her out of power. That was their sole objective.
"Everyone is drained and exhausted from the True Demon King's reign. Biases and prejudices regarding social status or lineage… At this point, the era where minia should be fighting against each other is long gone."
"..."
"I want to continue striving for such a world. Surely you understand, Elea." "Seventeenth Minister. Did you know? The chef at the Porcelain Swallow
was apparently arrested."
"…What are you talking about?"
The Seventeenth Minister turned to look questioningly at Elea.
She still wore the same gentle, beautiful smile. What sort of expression was she supposed to be making?
"That's the restaurant where I talked to the Eighth Minister this afternoon." "I am aware. It's a wonderful establishment."
"Gahak, ungh!"
The Seventeenth Minister suddenly vomited, and an excruciating pain in his gut made him double over.
Once he had reached that point, he could only gasp out air, unable to breathe. "…Even a wonderful restaurant like that isn't without its own base
individuals, it seems."
"Gah, hngh, Ele—"
"In exchange for a trifling sum, they'll serve food exactly as they're told and ultimately sacrifice their own life in the process. Do you not think it's appropriate for them to face prejudice and bias? I'm sure that people of vulgar
blood do that sort of thing, too."
"Hnah… Hngh, hah…haah, ah."
The toxicity in the seeds of the blue moon fruit was relatively low. Thus, should its poison lead to death, it was nothing more than an unlikely stroke of bad luck, only rarely befalling the elderly or sick, who were already in poor health.
As long as said toxicity wasn't strengthened with Life Arts.
Slipping Word Arts in between the gaps in a person's perception was an assassination skill. Before they had even begun their conversation…while the Seventeenth Minister was dozing off in his chair, Elea had finished the Word Arts incantation necessary to kill him.
"…Now, then. Please, say it one more time for me, Seventeenth Minister. Will you make me one of the Twenty-Nine Officials? Did you truly, deep down, wish to do so?"
"Hah! Hah! Anh, gahk…"
It had been a lie. Elea knew that from the beginning.
Everyone was an enemy. He knew Elea's lineage. As long as there was even one person who did, then one day, even this elderly man was assured to bring her to ruin.
"Is it absurd to divide and separate people based on their lineage or their social status?"
Elea pressed down hard on the Seventeenth Minister's shoulders, even denying him the ability to writhe in his agony.
Bubbles overflowed from the sides of the Seventeenth Minister's mouth, and even as the hemorrhaging of his stomach lining began to mingle with his spit, Elea continued to admonish him in his ear.
"…Now then, Seventeenth Minister. Were you kind enough to say the same things to my mother?"
"...! Ugh, hnnnngh! E-El…Ele…a…"
"My mother worked much, much harder than I did. To become a true member of the nobility. Striving so hard to be a woman worthy of you."
Cruelly holding his spasming shoulders, venting her pent-up years of spite, she still looked down at him with the same, perfect smile. Just as her mother taught her, with the beautiful smile she'd inherited.
Become elegant and refined. So no one will scorn you.
"Why are you so quiet?" "...! ...Hrngh! ...!"
"Go on, now. Say it, won't you? That you lived a very happy life."
Watching the light in his eyes fade, Elea continued to address him up until the end. Just as she had before on that day.
With this, he would die. She had to confirm the truth for herself, or she couldn't find relief.
"That you were proud to have such a fine daughter." "… "
The spasms stopped, and the strength drained from the shoulders she was pressing down on.
Looking at his face, frozen in his final moments of agony, Elea was finally able to wipe away her smile.
In the youth she had lived through, these moments were the only ones where she had peace of mind.
"Farewell, Father."
"So this…is Rosclay's…"
Faced with the cheering blanketing the garden theater, Ninth General Yaniegiz couldn't help gasping.
They hadn't imagined it. The situation before that hadn't been included in their strategic estimations at all.
Even as Rosclay floundered so disgracefully, so clearly defeated, the people wouldn't accept his defeat.
The judges of it all wouldn't let Rosclay the Absolute lose. Even in this state, Rosclay was able to turn the spectators into allies.
"…Rosclay the Absolute won't lose!" It was a sublime spectacle.
Both Elea…and Yaniegiz, as well, had failed to recognize the extent of Rosclay's influence.
Rosclay the Absolute. The pinnacle of valor. A true knight.
He was horribly wounded, without any hopes of victory, and remained unable to put up the slightest glimmer of a fight.
For the first time, he was laying bare a disgraceful sight that none of the citizens had ever seen before.
Rosclay strove nonstop to be perfect precisely because he believed that if he showed himself looking defeated to the people, it would all be over.
…He had been wrong. This wasn't the end of anything at all.
"Even if his preparations were meaningless…! I-if…it's plain to see he's been defeated! That won't be enough to finish Rosclay the Absolute!"
He had no way to victory. Nevertheless, maybe, just maybe.
It was the power to make even Yaniegiz, fully aware of the truth behind Rosclay's abilities, believe in such a possibility.
Meanwhile, underneath the audience seating.
Watching just as intently, Elea the Red Tag feared the same power.
I understood… Anyone who put themselves up against Rosclay would be stood up on the side of evil. The longer and longer this match is drawn out, Kia will continue to be at a disadvantage!
The match was dragging on. From the very start, the World Word shouldn't have needed to fear such a thing,
Whoever the opponent, with a single word, she could immediately bring the match to a close.
She should have been able to erase the champion without anyone in the audience understanding anything about how it happened—and make it clear that they needed a replacement in his stead.
"…Why?! Why, why, why…?!" Elea shouted aloud. Her voice reached no one.
"Don't you want to save Eta?! You're indebted to me, aren't you?! Your enemy's the very symbol of the nation that'll bring ruin to your homeland!"
At this point, Kia was hesitating to attack the hopeless Rosclay.
Rosclay would be eternally without a road to victory, but Kia wasn't able to kill him, either.
I would kill him if it were me. No matter what. I need to kill Rosclay, regardless of any malice or hatred toward him, or my happiness will never come. Kill him. I can't relax until I see him torn apart to shreds. If it were me… If I were the one…
Blood dripped from her right hand. She had been keeping a viselike grip on something in her palm, hard enough to draw blood.
…Aaah.
It was a hair ornament.
The hair ornament Kia had bought from the photography studio the day prior.
An ornament made with the quality of a toy.
She had said it made her look like a princess, and it really suited Elea.
She's a child.
A normal child, who would pick out such a gift with her immature sensibilities.
She's…she's not like me…
Kia was just a child, merely gifted with the power of almighty Word Arts.
It was dark. Amid the underground darkness, the zealous cheers were the only thing that continued to echo around her.
In that place, neglected by everyone, Elea crouched down.
One after another, sinister black emotions welled up from inside her own heart. Anguish and regret, enough to make her entire life come to nothing.
"…Wh-why…? Why…? Such…such a simple thing!!" Kia was a normal young girl.
A simple child who had lived in happiness without deceiving or killing anyone.
…In which case, what about Elea?
To Elea, presumption was obvious from a young age. Of course, she needed to kill.
Letting any of the enemies who threatened her remain alive was completely out of the question.
Elea didn't believe in a natural goodness in all beings that Kia took as a given.
"Why…?! Wh-what was…what was I supposed to do?! Why me…and me alone?!"
The green sunbeams filtering through the trees she saw in Eta. Days spent walking through the peaceful hills and fields. Changing into a costume and frolicking about.
She would sometimes behave like a child.
The teacher from the central metropolis would be ignorant of something the children in her care knew to be obvious, and when they'd ridicule her, she'd poke fun at herself.
She was constantly taught by her students about the youthful days she never had.
Because she'd never been a child.
Kia, totally unaware of anything, believed in Elea, got angry on her behalf, and was always trying to give something back to Elea.
Children given love would end up like this. "…Kia!"
While Elea, to a…to a mere child, had…