CHAPTER 2

THE GRYPS

“Wow… They’ve really changed it.”

Ayato looked down from his seat in one of the Sirius Dome’s many galleries. The stage was so changed, in fact, that it might as well have been completely new.

The most obvious difference was that it was now surrounded by a deep, moat-like ditch filled with the protective gel developed by Allekant, giving the stage the appearance of an island floating on the surface of a lake. It seemed that the gel was supposed to unfurl and surround the stage during matches.

On top of that, the existing defensive barriers were still located outside the protective gel.

“I guess they wanted to make it safer for the audience, but isn’t this overdoing it a little?” Julis, sitting beside Ayato, looked dumbfounded.

Kirin and Saya were sitting in the front row, apparently busy discussing something as well.

The opening ceremony of the Gryps was scheduled to take place later in the day, but for now, the participating teams had been invited to take a look at the upgraded venue.

As such, the galleries—normally capable of seating up to a hundred thousand spectators—looked strangely desolate.

Claudia let out a soft laugh. “It can’t be helped. Some of the top executives from the integrated enterprise foundations will be coming to watch. There would be a terrible fuss in the odd event that any of them was to get injured.”

“Top executives? Hmm… I guess it makes sense then, from their perspective.”

“The Executive Committee chairman apparently managed to convince them to hold the next Concordia here in Asterisk. It looks like they’ve decided to watch the ceremonies while they’re here—and at least some of the matches.”

It was fair to say that the top IEF executives were the highest powers in the world today. They hardly ever appeared in public, but it was said that they, or at least their representatives, attended a summit, the Concordia, every few years to coordinate their long-term interests.

“The last time they came here was just after the city’s large-scale improvement works forty years ago. Of course, the executives themselves will have changed over that time, too.”

“But even so…,” Ayato said, mulling it over, “does the Festa Executive Committee chairman really have that kind of influence?”

The Festa Executive Committee chairman—Madiath Mesa.

Based on what Ayato had heard, Mesa didn’t have a bad reputation—a sentiment that matched the impression Ayato had of him from their own brief dealings. The chairman had even done what he could during Flora’s kidnapping—and in helping to find Haruka.

But there was no forgetting the advice Ayato had been given by Stjarnagarm’s Commander Lindwall.

“Don’t put too much trust in Madiath Mesa.”

The words remained engraved in his mind even now.

“Let’s see. In terms of position, Mesa is only a mid-level executive at Galaxy. Moreover, given his heritage, he shouldn’t expect to rise higher than that. Under any normal situation, it would be impossible for him to have any kind of influence in determining the venue for the Concordia…,” Claudia answered in a hushed tone. “The Festa occupies an extremely special position for the integrated enterprise foundations. It is, after all, the sole event they manage jointly and for which they share responsibility. As such, the members of the Executive Committee are appointed from each foundation, and there is always a fixed ratio of members belonging to each one. There’s no need for me to explain how advantageous it is to have the chairman working for you, is there?”

“So what you’re saying is that it puts Galaxy in a strong position?”

“On the other hand, it’s also somewhat dangerous from a personal perspective. The previous executive chairman managed to evade those threats thanks to his political maneuvering. Madiath Mesa’s leadership, however, has left nothing to be desired.”

He did indeed come across as an unusually reliable and talented individual.

Nonetheless, there was still too little information out there for anyone to truly ascertain who he was as a person.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you,” a cool and familiar voice from behind them said. “I don’t suppose I could have a moment of your time, Team Enfield?”

Ayato turned around to find a number of students from Saint Gallardworth Academy standing behind them, each impeccably dressed—their school crest, shaped like a halo, displayed prominently. Julis’s eyes opened wide, and neither Kirin nor Saya could mask their surprise.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Ayato held out his hand to the handsome young man at the head of the group, Ernest Fairclough. They had last seen each other at the school fair several months earlier.

Ernest, wearing a perfect smile, gave it a firm shake. “You look well, Amagiri.”

He was standing at the forefront of nine other Gallardworth students.

Which meant—

“And how are you, Pendragon? I see that you’ve brought Team Lancelot and Team Tristan with you. How very extravagant.” Claudia seemed to reflect that too-perfect smile like a mirror as she bowed to the Gallardworth students in greeting.

Team Lancelot was composed of the top five members of Gallardworth’s Page One students. Four of its members had participated in the previous Gryps.

Team Tristan was composed of Gallardworth’s sixth- to tenth-ranked Page One students, and so it was often described as the academy’s farm team when compared to Team Lancelot. There were, of course, many other teams from Gallardworth participating in the tournament, but those were the two that stood out most in terms of raw ability.

“Well, some of us were insistent that we come to greet you all.”

But no sooner had Ernest begun speaking than a woman with gorgeous golden hair stepped forward.

“Oh my… It has been a while, Laetitia.” Claudia beamed.

“Yes, indeed. Too long! I’ve waited three years to repay you for that humiliation at the last Gryps! Mark my words, Claudia—I’ll crush you this time!”

The woman staring down in challenge was Gallardworth’s second-ranked fighter, Laetitia Blanchard, also known as the Witch of Shining Wings, Gloriara.

“Humiliation? Oh dear. Your team won.”

“Forget the team! This is about my own pride!”

Claudia merely parried the declaration with a light chuckle.

Julis watched from the side, her expression somewhere between astonishment and exasperation. “They haven’t changed at all, those two,” she scolded with her arms folded as she watched the exchange from the corner of her vision.

“Do you know her?” Ayato asked.

When it came to Gallardworth, Ernest was usually the one at the tip of everyone’s tongues, but the fact that Laetitia fought alongside him meant that she, too, wasn’t to be made light of. Judging by what Ayato had seen in recordings of her matches, she would have to be among the top five Stregas in all of Asterisk.

“…Like Claudia, she’s a regular at the Opernball in Lieseltania. She and Claudia both seem to have known each other since before that, though. It ends up like this every time they meet. Laetitia seems to have some sort of rivalry with her.”

“Oh? That’s impressive.”

Anyone who wanted to contend with Claudia would have to have quite the fighting spirit.

“Apparently, the Blanchard family has had a deep connection to the Enfield family for several generations—”

“I can hear you, Julis,” Laetitia interrupted her with a piercing stare. “Just so you know, this has nothing to do with our families. This is between me and her!”

“Well, excuse me.” Julis looked away with a shrug.

Judging by how they addressed each other, Julis seemed to be more familiar with her than she was letting on.

“And on top of that, as a frien— Ahem! As an old acquaintance, I can’t watch on in silence as you try to realize such a foolish, stupid dream!” Laetitia declared, pointing a finger squarely at Claudia. “I’ll smash it into the ground; mark my words!”

Don’t tell me…, Ayato thought. Does she know what Claudia’s wish is?

Ayato and her other team members knew, of course, but they still had no idea what kind of motivation lay behind it.

If Laetitia knew, too, she would have to have a much deeper relationship with her than Julis had just suggested.

“In any case, if you plan to win this time, you’ll have to go through us sooner or later. That said, I wouldn’t mind watching you trip up in the preliminaries.”

The bracket for the preliminaries, up until the third round, had already been announced. Like the Phoenix, however, it was designed to prevent tournament favorites from facing off against one another too soon, so there would be no possibility of Team Enfield running up against either Team Lancelot or Team Tristan until at least the fourth round, when the next bracket would be drawn.

“Are you finished, Laetitia?” interrupted a voice that Ayato remembered well. “I’m afraid you’re not the only one looking to settle a score.”

“Elliot…,” Laetitia murmured, reluctantly stepping back.

“It’s been almost a full year, Amagiri.”

Greeting him with a light smile was Elliot Forster, alias the Shining Sword, Claíomh Solais, whom Ayato had defeated in the semifinals of the Phoenix. He excelled at countering and was a master of swordsmanship comparable even to Kirin in skill.

The last time they had fought, Ayato hadn’t been able to use the Ser Veresta, so it had been an old-fashioned duel between one swordsman and another. At that time, he had managed, somehow, to overcome him.

But that was a year ago now.

“Wow… It looks like you’ve been training. You’re ranked six now, right?” Not having seen Elliot in so long, he couldn’t hide his surprise at his obvious growth.

His fluffy blond hair was still the same, but his facial features had matured considerably, and while he was still somewhat shorter than Ayato, the muscles in his slender arms and legs were clearly more developed, even hidden by his uniform.

“No, I still have a long way to go… But I haven’t forgotten the humiliation I felt when you smashed my crest.” Elliot flashed him a fierce grin. “At the very least, I’m not going to let that happen again.” His words brimmed with confidence, as if he could only barely hold his pride as a swordsman in check.

“Ayato…,” Kirin whispered nervously.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied with a short nod.

She had no doubt sensed the strength of the boy standing in front of them as well. As a swordswoman herself, she would have expected no less.

“You’ll be able to see how much I’ve grown for yourself when we battle. I’ll be looking forward to it.” Elliot gave them a polite bow before stepping back to rejoin his team members.

“They say defeat helps one grow… But Elliot is a completely different person now. I suppose we have you to thank for that, Amagiri.” Ernest smiled, putting a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “And,” he added sweetly, “I’m looking forward to crossing swords with you myself.”

Ayato heard Saya mutter, “Looks like you’re popular.”

He was about to say something in response when he noticed the Ser Veresta rattling in its holder.

“Oh my…” Claudia giggled.

It seemed that the Orga Lux at Ernest’s waist—the Lei-Glems—was shaking as well.

“What’s this…?”

“Perhaps they’re saying something to each other as well? It has been more than a decade since any of the Four Colored Runeswords have faced one another like this.”

The Four Colored Runeswords—the Ser Veresta, the Blade of the Black Furnace; the Lei-Glems, the Blade of White Purification; the Raksha-Nada, the Blade of Red Mist; and the Wole-Zain, the Blade of Blue Lamentation.

Throughout the long history of the Festa, there had never been a time when all four had been used against one another.

At present, the Wole-Zain was without a compatible user, and the Raksha-Nada was said to have been sealed away.

“I’ve heard they were all built in the same laboratory. Maybe they miss each other, or else…?” Ernest left the sentence unfinished, putting his hands together with a clap to change the subject, just like Claudia. “Well then, my apologies for taking up so much of your time. Let’s do our best, all of us, fairly and cleanly. I hope to see you soon—preferably in the arena.”

Claudia let out a chuckle as they watched the Gallardworth students march away in single file. “It looks like we’ve got some mutual friends, Ayato.”

He could respond only with a forced smile.

“It goes without saying that the skills and prowess of our contestants continue to rise with each and every Festa… I say this in no way to disparage the heroes of past tournaments. No, I am speaking rather with reference to the scientific data, which provides us all with the indisputable facts.”

It was the opening ceremony of the twenty-fourth Gryps.

Madiath Mesa was giving his speech at the podium, overlooking the contestants at the front of the arena.

Just like during the opening ceremony of the Phoenix, the students who would be participating in the tournament stood in long rows, separated by school, in the center of the upgraded stage. The huge floodlights installed on the ceiling of the dome illuminated the Executive Committee chairman’s position in the middle of the platform.

“We all recognize the achievements and continuing successes of prior champions. Take Commander Helga Lindwall, for instance. There is not a person here who would deny that her strength remains undimmed even today. But if we compare the mean values of our contestants’ prana, you, who are participating in this tournament, shine unmistakably brighter than the first generation to which she belongs.” Madiath was speaking in his usual calm, lively voice, holding the audience captive with his words.

The galleries, empty until just a short while ago, were now completely full, overflowing with spectators bottling up their raging enthusiasm as they followed Madiath’s every word.

“Moreover, there has been a remarkable evolution in strategy since that time—and in the development of Luxes. The recently unveiled Rect Luxes serve as a symbol of that progress… If you will forgive me for this digression, I sometimes find myself wishing such technology had been available during my own time as a student standing where you are today. Although, whether I would have been able to control it is a different matter.”

A buoyant murmur spread through the stadium at the joke.

Above the galleries, Madiath’s wry smile was being projected on several huge air-windows.

“Right…,” Ayato murmured, a question popping into his mind. “The chairman was a winner at the Phoenix, too, wasn’t he?”

“He was. What about it?” Julis answered in a low voice.

“I was just wondering who his tag partner was.”

“Hmm…” She pressed a finger against her temple, her eyes shut tight as if rummaging through her memories. “I’m pretty sure it was a woman, but I don’t remember her name. It’s been a long time since I watched the recordings.”

“I see… That’s okay.”

Judging by Madiath’s age, Ayato and the others probably hadn’t even been born yet when he had won. Given Julis’s diligence, Ayato wouldn’t have been surprised if she had watched the matches of every prior champion of the Phoenix, but remembering them all clearly would undoubtedly be too much for anyone.

“Why? What are you thinking?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Ayato waved the question away, returning his gaze to the podium.

He himself didn’t know why the question had sprung to mind so suddenly.

“It is in consideration of these changes that we judged that the existing Festa facilities also needed to be changed, in order to keep pace with the evolving nature of the tournament. As such, we embarked on this large-scale upgrade, which, despite the somewhat forced deadline, I am pleased to announce has been completed according to schedule.” Madiath paused there for a moment, casting his gaze toward the galleries. “The installation of the new protective gel will increase the safety of all our spectators, without compromising the enthusiasm and excitement that are hallmarks of this event. Moreover, it will allow our contestants even greater freedom to explore bold, daring strategies.”

The galleries responded with a roar of enthusiasm.

Madiath’s speech was, as usual, well received. Even among the students, there were not a small number who looked to be holding themselves tall in pride and excitement.

For Ayato, however, who knew the real reason why the stages had been refurbished, the words came across as mere sophistry. The student council presidents of each school, standing at the head of each block of students, seemed to be aware of the actual motivation as well—as Ernest and Xinglou Fan were wearing cold expressions.

Watching Madiath’s composed demeanor, Ayato couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of unease.

He had listened to the chairman’s speech during the opening ceremony of the Phoenix last summer, too, but this time, he felt as if he had caught a glimpse of some ominous void residing deep inside the man. Ayato found himself shuddering as he imagined that unfathomable cavity spreading yet wider behind that affable, spirited face.

It wasn’t that there was anything strange about Madiath’s appearance.

If he had to put it into words, what had changed was how Ayato saw him.

Perhaps Helga’s warning had taken root, he thought.

“Hmm…”

Whatever it was, now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

Ayato caught his breath, reminding himself that their first match was scheduled for that very afternoon, and tried to shake off all unnecessary thoughts.

“Saya, before we head in, I’m gonna go buy a drink,” Ayato said. It was after the opening ceremony, and his team was making its way to the prep room. “Can you let everyone know?”

“…Got it.” Saya, walking alongside him, nodded.

The other three girls were busy discussing something several yards ahead.

“If Kirin could use her sword-drawing techniques in a group battle, we might be able to use them to increase our total number of coordination patterns.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t think I’ll be able to pull them off, not unless it’s a one-on-one duel. And they’ll take too long to get ready…”

“It wouldn’t be impossible to bring about such a situation, but if it takes too long against an opponent who is too skilled, it could prove fatal.”

Judging by what Ayato could make out, they seemed to be confirming their strategy for the upcoming match. He didn’t want to disturb them.

“Can you get me something, too?”

“All right. Apple juice?”

“Not the one from concentrate.”

“Got it.” As he set off for the vending machine corner, Ayato waved his hand to show that he had understood what she wanted.

He decided to take a peek at the nearby entrance. It was jammed full of the students who had been gathered on the stage until just a few moments earlier. While Ayato’s match was at the Sirius Dome, many of the others would be taking place in the other arenas throughout the city, and the contestants, of course, all had to be shuttled to their destinations. Yet, not everyone would have a match on the first day—many would be wanting to return to their respective schools.

“Ayato!” A familiar voice suddenly called out his name.

He turned around, looking for the source, when he noticed a hand sticking out from behind a pillar, beckoning to him.

The person behind the unexpectedly childish action was, as he had guessed from the voice, Sylvia.

They had called each other several times since the end of the school fair, but it had been a while since they had last seen each other in person.

“…It looks like the student council presidents really have it tough, getting called out here even when you’re not participating,” Ayato said with a grin.

“Well, it’s part of the job. My schedule’s free at the moment, so I have to at least make an appearance at the ceremonies. It looks like Xinglou came as well.”

“Right, I heard that she usually sends a representative.”

Now that he thought about it, Xinglou Fan, whom he had first met during the school fair, had indeed sent someone else as Jie Long’s representative to the closing ceremony of the Phoenix.

“Her representative is pretty famous, too, you know?”

“Huh? Really?”

“She’s from Gaishi, the seventh office of the Ryuusei Kyuushi, an organization under the direct control of Jie Long’s student council president. Basically, it’s their special ops unit.”

“…She’s a special ops agent? And famous?”

Wouldn’t that interfere with her work?

“Anyway, she isn’t one of Xinglou’s students, but she does seem to have some kind of relationship with her. And they’ve got pretty similar personalities.”

“Similar? You mean…?”

“Right. She’s a fanatic for battle.”

He would have to remember to steer clear of her, Ayato thought.

“Ah, by the way, Sylvie. What’s with that outfit?”

She was dressed in a disguise, just like during the school fair.

And yet, she had been wearing her uniform during the opening ceremony.

“I’ve got the rest of the day off. I thought I’d take a look around the Rotlicht.”

In other words, she was going to try to find more information on her missing teacher.

“The city is crawling with tourists during the Festa, so it’s a lot easier to blend in… Ah, don’t worry, though, I’ll watch your match,” she added with a wink.

“Ha-ha, sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“…Hmm, aren’t you taking it a bit too easily, though?” She raised a finger as she drew closer to him. “I mean, it’s not like I think you’ll be eliminated in the preliminaries or anything, but you can’t afford to let your guard down in the Gryps, you know?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. But more importantly—” His heart skipped a beat as her purple eyes stared into his, and he glanced away. “You should watch your back, too. You’ve been going out a lot lately, haven’t you?”

“Well… I guess so,” she answered slowly, her voice so low he almost didn’t hear it. He must have hit the mark.

Ayato hadn’t accompanied her on those outings, but she had given him rough reports. She had been going out into the city in disguise more and more lately, especially since the beginning of summer vacation.

Of course, her goal was always to find a clue as to the whereabouts of her music teacher, Ursula Svend.

“You didn’t find anything, did you?”

Sylvia, regret visible on her face, shook her head. “No, nothing. I suppose that’s why I’m getting so worked up about it lately…”

“I see…”

If she could recognize it by herself, there was no need to remind her to be careful.

“But you know… I’ve been thinking, and I believe I’ve realized something.”

“What?”

“You heard how she was talking back then. I think she’s probably being controlled by someone. I mean, that wasn’t the Ursula I knew.” There was a piercing glint in her eyes, a cold anger lurking behind her words.

She was referring, of course, to the person whom she had taken for Ursula during the Gran Colosseo at the end of the school fair.

“I know there are abilities that can rob people of control over their bodies, but I’ve never heard of something that can alter their memories or personality. I mean, the amount of mana that would be required for that would be beyond what any Strega or Dante could physically handle.”

It was a known fact that mind control abilities were inhibited by prana, meaning that they weren’t particularly effective against Genestella.

“If such a thing was possible, it would have to be—”

“An Orga Lux,” Ayato finished for her.

Sylvia nodded. “At least, that’s the most likely possibility.” She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping tiredly. “I’ve looked into it, but I can’t find any record of an Orga Lux with that kind of ability.”

The research and development of Orga Luxes was, naturally, a closely guarded secret, but thanks to treaties agreed to among the IEFs, every piece of urm-manadite used in such weapons was carefully cataloged and tracked. At the very least, it should have been possible to find out which pieces of urm-manadite were where.

“It does seem to be the most likely possibility,” Ayato admitted.

Moreover, the woman whom Sylvia had taken for Ursula had been able to temporarily deactivate the Ser Veresta. No matter how he thought about it, that wasn’t normal.

As far as Ayato was aware, it might not be beyond the realm of possibility for irregular Stregas or Dantes, such as Xinglou or Orphelia Landlufen, to do such a thing, but the most natural explanation was that it had been done by a Lux.

“Yep. So I’m going to look into it a little… Ah, sorry! You’ve got a match, and here I am distracting you! You need to focus on the Gryps, Ayato!”

“…All right. But if something happens, you can call me whenever you want, okay?”

“Ha-ha, thanks.” Sylvia flashed him an apologetic smile. “Ah, I almost forgot. I wanted to give you this,” she said, taking something out of her bag.

“What is it?”

“Lunch.” Sylvia giggled.

“…Huh?”

Sylvia smiled at him mischievously. “I told you, didn’t I? That I’d make lunch for you next time?”

Now that she mentioned it, she had indeed said something like that while they had been touring the school fair.

“You made it yourself? For me?” He gaped. He knew how busy her schedule was.

There would be an uproar if word was to get out that the world’s most famous songstress was cooking lunch for him, he mused. If her fans were to find out, they would no doubt curse him for the rest of his natural life.

“Take it. I am fairly confident in my cooking, you know… Or are you not allowed to eat something cooked by someone from a rival school?”

“O-of course not!” Ayato waved his hands, quickly accepting the lovingly wrapped box.

Sylvia smiled gladly. “G-good…” She glanced at the floor, letting out a quiet sigh. “Haaah… This is nerve-racking…”

“Sylvie?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing.” She turned back toward him, waving her hands with her usual bright smile. “I’d like you to tell me what you think, though…”

“Ah, that might be…” Ayato carefully glanced around.

They were both fairly good at hiding their identities, so it was likely no one had noticed them yet, but he would be bound to attract attention if he was to start eating so close to the entrance hall. That wouldn’t be good.

“I’m joking!” Sylvia giggled. “It was a joke!”

“Huh…?”

She stepped back, seemingly unable to control her laughter. “Anyway, I’ll be back soon. Good luck at your first match!”

“A-ah, right. Thanks.”

Ayato watched in silent astonishment as Sylvia hurried off toward the galleries.

By the entrance of the Sirius Dome, next to a vending machine a little distance away, two girls stood watching, their eyes wide in astonishment, until finally they found the courage to speak.

“…Hey, Tuulia.”

“…What, Miluše?”

“…Did you see that?”

“…I saw it.”

“…That was… That was Sylvia, wasn’t it?”

“…It was her, all right.”

“…”

“…”

They fell silent once more before slowly turning to face each other—their smiles a mix of surprise and delight—and jumping up to give each other a midair high five.