Chapter 98 - Alliance Meeting (4)

Selaim Micardo, master of the Blue Magic Tower, had returned after a very long absence—two years, in fact—but ordinarily, he would have left again that very same day.

Three years earlier, he had discovered an exceedingly intriguing magical structure. It appeared to be an arcane structure used in the forgotten age of the gods, one that might perhaps allow him to advance beyond the eighth tier where he had hit a wall.

Thus, Micardo, who had been busily traveling everywhere except the currently inaccessible Empire, had intended to collect only the supplies he needed and leave again.

“Tower Master, I have some interesting news.”

“What news might that be?”

“It seems the deputy tower master has fallen in love with someone.”

“... Oh?”

He would have left, that is, if not for this news from one of the Blue Magic Tower’s professors, with whom he was on friendly terms.

“Tell me more.”

The professor began recounting everything that had happened.

“... And that’s how things stand.”

“Oh...”

Once the professor finished, Selaim Micardo nodded several times, deeply intrigued, before asking in a puzzled voice.

“But ultimately, you’re saying Penia denied it to the very end?”

“Well, yes, but don’t they say that an emphatic denial is an emphatic affirmation?”

“An emphatic denial is an emphatic affirmation...”

Selaim stroked his beard thoughtfully.

'With Penia, could that be possible?'

He found himself picturing Penia.

... She was a cherished pupil whose genius even Selaim had to acknowledge. But considering her arrogance, her overbearing temperament, and the subtle sense of superiority underlying it all...

He thought that perhaps it really was possible.

Penia might well dismiss even these naturally blossoming feelings as a contest in which the first to fall in love lost.

“Certainly... With Penia, that certainly could be the case.”

“Right?”

“Indeed.”

Whatever else might be true, Selaim also recalled her determination to avoid losing any contest by any means necessary, and nodded in agreement.

... Had Penia heard this conversation, she might have frothed at the mouth and fired spells indiscriminately throughout the tower.

But Selaim, who had no way of knowing that, considered something before speaking.

“Then should I lend a hand somehow?”

“Well... I don’t think that would be a bad idea.”

At the professor’s answer, Selaim hummed thoughtfully. Even for someone who had spent his entire life interested in little besides magic, the idea that his pupil, who considered herself supreme above all others, had fallen in love was quite entertaining.

'Someone Penia loves... Come to think of it, haven’t they been involved for quite some time?'

Selaim recalled an old memory he had forgotten while pursuing his magical research.

'Now that I think about it, I believe he was the noble who eliminated the Time Gate... Penia looked terribly crestfallen then, didn’t she?'

Having retrieved that long-buried memory, Selaim was delighted by how entertaining the situation seemed even to a middle-aged outsider like himself.

“Then perhaps I’ll help in my own way. First, though... I ought to meet him.”

He smiled as though he had made up his mind.

Meanwhile, Penia, unaware that the tower master had slipped back into the tower, was having her sanity mercilessly ground away by missing deliveries that had continued for over two months and were now entering their third.

“Again?!”

“W-well, yes.”

“Again?! They’re missing?! Again?!”

“No, it’s—I checked everything, all of it, and they were definitely there when we set out!”

“I told you to check every single day!”

“Of course I checked every day! But today, the day we arrived at the tower, they suddenly disappeared...!”

“How does that make any sense?!”

“Grrr...!”

As Penia seethed with fury, the face of an expressionless man inexplicably flitted through her mind.

“Aaaaargh!”

She vented her frustration.

... Outside the window, the weather remained sunny.

####

Alon’s bewilderment at Seollang and Deus’s sudden appearance lasted only a moment.

“Huh? Oh!”

Noticing the two behind Alon, Philian Merkillan briefly looked confused, then exclaimed as though he had realized who they were.

“Wow, are you Callivan’s First Sword and Coloni’s foremost Baba Yaga?”

Apparently oblivious to their frighteningly rigid expressions, Philian spoke with shining eyes, as if seeking confirmation.

“I’ve wanted to meet both of you. What a pleasure!”

A cheerful smile spread across his face. But when Seollang and Deus’s expressions remained stiff, he looked puzzled.

“What’s wrong?”

Deus, who had remained silent until now, spoke.

“Didn’t you say my benefactor—no, Marquis Pallatio—was weak?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Marquis Pallatio is not weak.”

“Is that so?”

Philian glanced at Alon, then turned back.

“He looks weak to me.”

“... Do you want to die?”

Deus abruptly radiated a murderous intensity.

'Wait, isn’t this going a bit far?'

It was Alon, rather than Philian, who was taken aback by that fierce reaction. Being called weak certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it hardly warranted such an overt display of menace.

“There’s no need to go this—”

He tried to calm things down, but...

“Of course not. But I would like to spar with Callivan’s First Sword. Would that be possible? If you win, Sir Deus, I’ll readily accept that Marquis Pallatio is strong.”

“Very well.”

Before Alon could finish speaking, both men headed out of the banquet hall in unison.

“...”

It had all happened in an instant.

####

A duel had been arranged to defend Alon’s honor, despite his having had absolutely no say in it(?).

A gently swishing tail followed beside him as he walked to the training grounds.

“... As an aide?”

“Yes! I wasn’t going to come, but when I heard you were coming, Mentor, I decided to come too!”

Seollang smiled brightly, as if to say, How was that? Didn’t I do well?

After hearing why Seollang and Deus were here, Alon nodded without thinking. It certainly made sense for the two of them to attend this meeting. Deus was Callivan’s First Sword, and Seollang was the foremost Baba Yaga of the desert city of Coloni.

There was just one thing bothering him.

'... I wonder if it’s all right to cause a commotion like this.'

He looked at Deus and Philian standing ahead of him.

... Of course, with nobody around and the banquet hall itself so quiet, they hadn’t actually caused much of a disturbance. Still, whether or not anyone was present, two aides fighting each other could stir up some controversy, even if it was a duel. That was why he had initially tried to stop them.

Unfortunately, as he walked along listening to Seollang, his timing proved poor. Both men had already drawn their swords, evidently ready to begin, and he had missed his opportunity to intervene.

Thus...

'... Well, it’s purely a duel, so it shouldn’t cause too much trouble.'

Alon decided to simply watch them fight, and a fresh thought occurred to him.

'Who will win?'

No, he soon revised the question.

'How long will he hold out?'

He knew they were both Swordmasters, of course, but the outcome seemed certain. Even Swordmasters had different levels of ability, and he couldn’t imagine Deus, who had defeated even Reinhardt, losing to Philian, who had only just become a Swordmaster.

'He probably isn’t expecting to win either... Oh—perhaps he is?'

Philian stared at Deus with eyes full of competitive fervor and eagerness to fight. Alon found himself nodding at the sight.

Philian was indeed behaving exactly as he had in Psychedelia. Even when faced with an overwhelming gap in skill, he would never give up, fighting to defeat his opponent somehow until his dying breath.

'I took it for granted in the game, but seeing him in real life, he really does have quite an unusual personality.'

With that assessment, he watched Philian’s gleaming eyes.

“The rule is that we fight until one of us concedes. Now, let’s begin when this dagger I throw lands on the ground.”

Smiling, Philian tossed the dagger from his belt into the air. It soared high, its hilt dipping into the light of the slowly sinking sun before it fell.

And then...

THUD!

When its hilt struck the ground...

CRACK!

The match was already decided.

“Huh?”

Bewildered, Philian took stock of his situation. By the time he came to his senses, he was sprawled disgracefully on the ground, without even knowing what had happened.

When he recovered his wits and looked ahead...

“...”

There stood Deus Makalian, sword in hand, looking down at him.

His eyes filled with confusion, Philian felt the pain in his cheek and realized something.

He had lost.

Without swinging his sword even once.

Without being able to do a thing.

“Hah...”

At that realization, he let out a hollow laugh.

Most lesser fighters would undoubtedly have either crumbled or denied reality the moment they crossed swords with Deus and lost. Those who crumbled would feel helpless at seeing all the swordsmanship they had built up defeated so futilely.

Those who denied it would elevate Deus Makalian to godhood, rationalizing their defeat as inevitable and refusing to face reality.

If they didn’t, they would fall apart.

But...

“Ha... Hahaha.”

Philian chose a third option, neither crumbling nor denying reality.

That option was...

“Wow, honestly... I’m speechless.”

Fighting spirit.

It had taken only a single stroke. Yet even after realizing he was no match at all, Philian instead raised his sword, his fighting spirit blazing.

As Philian’s blood began to boil...

'... What was that?'

Alon stared at Deus in utter astonishment. He had known, of course, that Deus was strong and that he had defeated Reinhardt.

Even so, he had never imagined Deus could dispose of Philian, who would be stronger than most Swordmasters, in a single instant.

'... Is this what talent looks like?'

For a moment, Alon marveled at Deus, who had grown absurdly powerful in just a few years—so powerful that Alon wondered whether he had surpassed even the superhuman. Then his expression turned proud.

... Honestly, as someone who struggled to fire off even one spell, Alon envied that overwhelming talent. But at the same time, it felt as though his own son had achieved great success.

That feeling lasted only a moment, however. Soon, Alon found himself admiring Philian as well.

“Gah—!”

Although he had already fought more than five times and lost to a single stroke each time, Philian kept getting up, as though he didn’t know how to quit.

After those five bouts...

“I’m not done yet!”

Alon could see Philian’s eyes shining vividly with fighting spirit.

After another ten bouts...

“Not yet—!”

After another fifteen...

“Wow, you’re really stron—”

After another twenty...

“Um, wait a moment?”

For the first time, Philian raised a hand instead. But Deus sent him flying without entertaining any discussion.

“No—”

CRACK!

“Wai—”

THWACK!

“Um, let me spea—”

CRACK!

After roughly thirty more bouts in which Philian had no chance to get a word out...

“... Deus, I think it’s about time you stopped.”

“Yes, sir.”

... No, more precisely, it was when Alon realized that Philian’s fighting spirit had lost its shine and his duel with Deus had degenerated into a one-sided beating, and hurriedly spoke up.

Alon saw it.

“...”

Philian, who, according to the game’s characterization, would display his fighting spirit without giving up until his dying breath, determined to defeat his opponent somehow even in the face of an overwhelming difference in skill...

“I’msorryIwasn’tthinkingI’llneverdoitagai—”

Had been broken.

And that night, at the meeting attended by the six kings representing the allied kingdoms...

“... Where is that gifted Swordmaster of yours? You were boasting so much about him.”

“... Ahem.”

From behind Critenia Siyan, Alon saw Ashtalon’s Bow King, Shtalian V, scowling in extreme displeasure.

“...”

The moment their eyes met, Alon could only discreetly avert his gaze.