CHAPTER 7

THE GRAVISHEATH

Power is necessary to protect, and to gain something requires even more strength.

Those without it inevitably lose what they treasure.

And to recover something lost demands the greatest power of all.

These were Irene Urzaiz’s guiding principles.

In southern Europe, there was a small country where the integrated enterprise foundations vied viciously for power, where the political situation was constantly unstable and seemed to sink a little deeper into the mud with each passing day. In that country, there was a town like an abandoned ruin—Irene’s hometown.

In an age of extreme centralization, when the population was concentrated in metropolises, people who lived in towns like hers were almost invariably poor. Under the rule of the integrated enterprise foundations, the system necessitated trapping a certain number of people in poverty. The predicament of Irene’s family was not uncommon.

A Genestella child born to such a family was considered a blessing. Although the discrimination against Genestella was even more pronounced farther from the cities, for the poor they were a source of money. The best outcome was to be scouted by, and perform well for, one of the Asterisk schools. But whether working for a private military company, police force, or, in the worst case, a crime syndicate, Genestella were always in demand.

Irene sensed from an early age that her parents had high expectations for her. She did not hate them for it, but she did not feel affection for them, either. Her sister Priscilla, also a Genestella, was the only one she cared for.

Where Irene saw herself as rough and vulgar, her sister was kind and innocent and, above all, adored her.

For Irene, her little sister was the only person she could love, and the only one who could return that love unconditionally.

One day, her sister was badly injured. She was in the wrong place when an old building collapsed.

It was a structure from a previous century, abandoned since the Invertia. Most places like it were barely standing, and known to be unsafe. But for the poor who had nowhere better to live, they were the only shelter.

Even most Genestella would have died from injuries like that, but Priscilla had fully recovered by the following day. That was when Irene realized her sister was a regenerative.

Every nation required examinations of Genestella to determine their talents. But in their country, governmental institutions were not entirely functional and hardly existed outside the cities. Those with unregistered abilities were not rare.

But they were always searching.

“See, Priscilla? These nice people want your help. You’ll go with them, won’t you?”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the scouts from Frauenlob—Allekant’s people—came for her.

Her mother sweet-talked her sister with a hand on her shoulder, her father signed the contract with an air of satisfaction, and the contract itself bound her through a “special commitment scholarship” to the notorious Allekant Academy as a student stripped of any right to protest no matter what they suffered. A specimen.

The next day, Irene left home with her sister.

She didn’t quite believe they could escape, and she didn’t know where to go.

All she knew was that if they didn’t run, she would lose her sister. That was the one reality she could not accept.

“Hey. You Irene Urzaiz?”

It was three days after they had run away from home that the man found them in the abandoned house where they had taken shelter.

He had dull rusty hair and was short and chubby. His expression was contorted with ill humor, drawing attention to the bright gleam in his eyes.

She wondered if Allekant had sent him, but that did not seem to be the case. The school crest the man wore—the crossed swords—told her that much.

“Here, use this,” he said, and tossed Irene a Lux activator.

As Irene cautiously touched it, a piercing shock shot through her body.

In that instant, she understood. This was power.

The Lux activated, and a giant scythe materialized in a purple phosphorescent glow. Energy filled her body, intense and brutal.

The man looked on, raised his eyebrows slightly, then spoke again. “Hmph, so you pass. All right. Tell me your wish.”

Irene did not understand the situation, or who the man in front of her was. But she answered without hesitation. She had only one wish in the world.

And she would sell her soul to the devil to make it come true.

The man’s expression did not change. He took out his mobile, made some kind of deal, and after a little while told her bluntly, “I just bought your sister back. Didn’t come cheap, but you can work it off.”

Once he was finished, he turned to walk away.

He suddenly paused mid-stride, and his head turned on his stocky neck so he could give the sisters a parting glare. “Just remember this. It wasn’t Le Wolfe who saved you. It was me. So you won’t be working for Le Wolfe, just me. Got it?”

Thinking back on it now, all that had happened was that their destination changed from Allekant to Le Wolfe. It didn’t fix anything.

Still, Dirk had given Irene the time and opportunity—and most importantly, the power—necessary to get Priscilla back.

That was enough.

“…Sis? It’s time to go.”

Irene opened her eyes to see Priscilla examining her with some concern.

They were in their Sirius Dome waiting room. She checked the time to find that, yes, they needed to head to the stage.

“All right. Whaddaya say we take care of some business?” Irene rose from the sofa and gently patted Priscilla’s hair. “You don’t need to worry. Just do everything like we always do.”

“Okay…”

Irene was the one who took orders from Dirk. Priscilla knew nothing and heard nothing. She simply provided her blood for Irene when necessary.

That’s how it should be, Irene thought. She was the only one who needed to dirty her hands. Those things were not for Priscilla.

That was the way they’d always done things, and it would never change.

“Still, those two are gonna be tough customers. We better give them all we got as soon as it starts.” With that, Irene activated the Gravisheath.

Priscilla took the cue and offered her neck.

An irresistible urge swelled inside Irene, and without another word, she plunged her fangs into her sister’s pale neck.

As a fragile whimper escaped Priscilla’s lips, the warm metallic flavor flowed down Irene’s throat.

I wonder when this taste became so delectable.

The Gravisheath pulsed in joy, as if to agree.

They stood like that for a full minute.

Irene released her mouth and gently caressed the small but deep wound. It disappeared before her eyes.

“Thanks, as always.”

Priscilla shook her head slowly in response. “No, this is nothing. But…”

She looked down, and Irene wrapped her arms tightly around her.

Priscilla whispered inside Irene’s embrace, “I’m sorry, sis.”

“You dummy. What’re you apologizing for?”

Every job that she finished drew Priscilla closer to her.

Dirk was not a man to be trusted, but he never broke his promises. And so right now, she had no choice but to fight.

“Well, it’s about time.”

Ayato looked up at Julis’s voice. “Oh, right. It is.”

“What’s wrong? It’s not good to think too much before a match.” Julis set her hand on her hip and frowned.

With a weak smile, Ayato waved her concerns away. “No, it’s nothing. Let’s go.”

“Hmm… If you say so.” Julis wanted more, but after checking the clock, she let out a short sigh. They headed out of the waiting room.

“Ayato.” Julis led the way, her shoes clacking, without turning to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I have to win. No matter who my opponent is, I have no intention of yielding. That’s why I’m here.”

“…I know.”

“But I’m not particular about how we win.”

The passageway leading to the stage seemed short, yet long.

Her voice echoed faintly back to him. “If we can win by fighting the way you want to, then let’s do it. We’re partners. We work together and fight side by side. Isn’t that the way it should be?”

“Julis…” Ayato paused and looked at her.

She also halted a few paces in front of him.

He bowed his head to her. “Thank you.”

“Silly. There’s nothing to thank me for.” Julis turned around ever so slightly with pink-tinged cheeks. “So? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s something I want to try. I’m not sure if it’ll work, though…”

As Ayato outlined his plan, Julis raised her eyebrows. “Hmm… It’s not unprecedented, but this is the Gravisheath we’re talking about.”

“I know it won’t be easy,” he went on, bracing himself. “But still—”

“All right,” she sighed, but with an encouraging smile. “Try it. But you’ll probably only get one shot. If you fail, you’ll have to give up the idea.”

“I won’t have a choice.”

“As long as you’re aware of that. Good—Let’s go.” She gently extended her closed fist.

Ayato nodded then lightly bumped his fist against hers.

“Well, well, Round Four’s been a string of thrilling battles in every stadium! The contestants for the finale here at the Sirius Dome will be Team Amagiri-Riessfeld of Seidoukan Academy versus the Urzaiz sisters of Le Wolfe Black Institute! Which team will advance to the Sweet Sixteen?!”

“I’ve been looking forward to this fight. Both teams made it through the preliminaries without giving their opponents a chance, so I think we’re about to see a watershed moment.”

“Now, Ms. Tram, would you share your thoughts on how this one could pan out? Irene Urzaiz’s Gravisheath consumes a lot of energy—Does that give Seidoukan’s team an edge in a prolonged fight?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s that cut-and-dried, ya know. Priscilla allows Irene to refuel, so to speak. And in terms of raw ability…”

“Hmph. They always think they know what they’re talking about.” Julis frowned at the commentary.

With Ayato’s time limit, they would be the ones at a disadvantage in an extended fight.

And from here until the final match, there would be only one day for rest. If Ayato broke his seal for long periods, it would make the next fight harder—That was obvious.

Still…

“Ayato, don’t push yourself too hard,” Julis told him. “Well, not that you’ll listen.”

“We can’t win otherwise. Not against them.”

Julis activated the Aspera Spina and nodded. “I have to agree. Let’s give them all we’ve got as soon as it begins.”

Ayato returned her nod, took a few steady breaths, and charged up his prana.

Magic circles surrounded him and shattered with sparks of mana. Power and the pain accompanying it welled deep inside and surged through his body.

“By the sword within me, I break free of this prison of stars and unchain my power!”

Then the shackles broke away, and he was filled with strength.

“There it is! Amagiri’s signature entrance—known and loved by now!”

“Quite a show no matter how many times you see it.”

The audience erupted in excitement and cheers.

“All fired up, huh, Amagiri.” The Gravisheath resting on her shoulder, Irene pursed her lips into a thin smile. She advanced, while Priscilla waited in the back. “Well, I better keep the pace!”

The Gravisheath gave off a purple light, its mana writhing eerily.

Tension drew the air in the dome taut, and—

“Phoenix, Round Four, Match Eleven— Begin!”

The automatic announcement declared the start of the match.

Julis immediately cast a spell. “Burst into bloom—Livingston Daisy!”

Flames flared up all around her to swirl into crimson chakrams. The fire surged toward Irene from every direction.

“Ha! Isn’t that cute!” There were more than a dozen fiery projectiles, but the Gravisheath easily swept them away.

In that time, however, Ayato had closed the distance. With the Ser Veresta in hand, he dashed between the chakrams and swung up from below.

“Ooh—I don’t think so.” Irene absorbed the attack with the Gravisheath, and sparks flew as the two blades clashed.

Even for the Ser Veresta—the sword that could burn through anything—it would not be easy to compete with another Orga Lux. Ayato could see that by locking weapons, he could force his opponent back bit by bit, but that by itself presented no significant advantage.

Ayato had expected this result. He switched tactics, twisting to pull her in as he swiped at Irene’s torso.

She deflected the strike upward with the Gravisheath and immediately followed with a downward swing, but Ayato was one step ahead with a counterattack. She dodged the sweeping blow by spinning to where he had just been, but Ayato retorted with a thrust.

Irene twirled the Gravisheath in front of her to use its blade as a shield. Sparks danced again as Ayato drew his blade back, twisted his wrist, and deflected the scythe backward.

“Huh?!”

He swung the Ser Veresta down at Irene’s defenseless chest—at her school crest.

She leaped backward to just barely dodge the attack, but her trademark scarf did not escape. Two pieces of fabric fell to the ground in flames. “Damn. Didn’t think I’d be this outmatched…! Guess I can’t beat you in a swordfight!”

Ready for her evasive maneuvers, the scorching chakrams continued to bombard Irene.

“Diez Fanega!” Irene cried. With one swing of the Gravisheath, black spheres of gravity appeared around her, flying into the chakrams. The magic projectiles destroyed one another.

“Wh-what an amazing exchange to open this match!” Mico gushed. “The teamwork between Amagiri and Riessfeld there was something to see, but so was the elder Urzaiz’s defensive skill!”

“Takes some guts for him to jump into the middle of those flames,” Pham chimed in. “Riessfeld has always had tremendous control, but that’s not an act you can pull off without a lot of faith in your partner, so.”

Ayato and Irene reestablished their distance, and Julis prepared for her next move farther off.

“Not bad for fighting together all of one or two months,” Irene said as her panting calmed.

“And you managed to dodge it all by yourself,” Julis replied, her Aspera Spina at the ready.

“By myself? Ha! We’ve got two on our team, too!” A savage glow lit Irene’s eyes, and she grinned to expose her fangs. “This strength is mine and Priscilla’s!”

The Gravisheath rattled as a violet light spread across the stage floor. The sound was almost like cackling laughter…

“Ayato, jump!” Julis shouted.

Even before her warning, Ayato’s legs were carrying him into the air.

He could see the atmosphere shivering around where he had just been standing—where Irene had manipulated the gravitational field.

“Heh. Pretty good reflexes,” she remarked.

“Well, I have seen that a few times,” Ayato replied, cautiously lowering his stance while readying the Ser Veresta.

The Gravisheath’s power affected a targeted area, but there was a moment’s lag before the ability took effect. Whereas ordinary students stood no chance, Ayato could narrowly dodge it with his power released.

“But do you really think you have the Gravisheath all figured out?” In Irene’s hands, the weapon cackled again.

The violet glow spread again across the ground, but over a much larger area than before.

Ayato took a wide sideways leap, but seeing he could not escape entirely, he braced himself for the weight to come.

Instead of being crushed, however, his body floated gently in the air. “Huh—?”

“It takes a lot of work to strengthen gravity, but not so much to weaken it,” Irene said. “I can manage a pretty broad target this way.”

Ayato hovered some six or seven feet above the ground.

He tried moving his arms and legs, but even a Genestella couldn’t do much without having something to push off against. His flailing limbs waded powerlessly through the air and his body spun around.

“Ayato!” Julis started toward him.

“You stay right there!” As Irene swung the Gravisheath toward her, Julis felt the weight.

“Ngh…!” She rolled to the ground. She tried to stand, but she could not even bring up one knee.

The target area was small enough that Julis could have dodged it, but Irene had accurately predicted that she would rush to Ayato’s aid.

“I’m not as precise as the Witch of the Resplendent Flames, but I’m good enough when my target can’t move. Massive destruction—Uno Fanega!”

A single gravity sphere appeared in front of Irene, and she steadied her aim at Ayato.

Until she abruptly fell on one knee.

“Damn—I guess using three abilities at once is a bit of a stretch…! I fueled up a ton, but I’m already out.” Irene’s face contorted in pain, although her power still remained active.

“Oh, well—This is the end, Amagiri!”

The sphere shot toward Ayato, and just before the moment of impact—

“Burst into bloom—Amaryllis!”

Julis had cast from her position on the ground, and her fireball struck Ayato before the gravity sphere.

“What the—?!” Irene exclaimed as Ayato grunted in pain.

A small explosion sent him hurtling through the air. He hit the ground tumbling, but quickly got up and frowned reproachfully at Julis. “I’m glad you saved me, but couldn’t you think of a nicer way?”

“Better than nothing, isn’t it?” Julis shot back. “Besides, I made it as soft as I could. It couldn’t have hurt that much, with the amount of prana you have.” She spoke easily, with the power of the Gravisheath apparently weakening.

Meanwhile, Irene inched her way backward, keeping her eyes trained on Ayato and Julis. She was trying to reach Priscilla to draw more blood.

“Julis!” shouted Ayato.

“I know! Burst into bloom—Longiflorum!” Julis swung her rapier to draw a spear of flame in the air.

Now was their chance, when Irene could not use the Gravisheath. Julis did not intend to let it slip past.

As the fiery spear cut through the air, Ayato chased behind it. But then—

“Orreaga Pesado!”

A purple wall—or rather, a row of pillars resembling prison bars—sprang up from the ground to block them both.

Ayato almost instantly came to a dead stop.

The prison bars apparently had the same power as the gravity spheres, only elongated in shape.

“A fixed defensive maneuver—!” Julis bit her lip in frustration. And then Irene reached Priscilla.

“Heh. That’s a trick I keep up my sleeve just in case someone tries to attack my sister. You won’t get through it too easily.” On the other side of the bars, Irene smiled thinly and made a show of sinking her fangs into Priscilla’s neck.

The Ser Veresta could break through, but it was already too late.

“So we’re back to square one,” Ayato sighed, then checked the time to see that almost two minutes had passed since the start of the match.

Ideally, he wanted to finish the match in another minute or so…

“Ayato!” Julis called to him sharply.

“What is it?”

Ayato went to her, and she whispered quickly in his ear. “I’m done setting up on my end. If you want to take your shot, now’s the time.”

“Got it.” He nodded and tightened his grip on the Ser Veresta.

The next move was Julis’s ace in the hole. Whether it succeeded or failed would determine the outcome of the match.

And given the time, Ayato had only a few chances left.

He recalled Julis’s words from before the match. “If we can win by fighting the way you want to, then let’s do it.”

Ayato knew it was a gamble. But he had to make his move before Julis used hers.

“Sorry for the wait. So, another round?” The purple bars melted away, and Irene stepped forward wiping her mouth. Behind her, Priscilla lay limp on the ground, breathing hard.

Ayato’s brows drew together, more sad than angry. “Do you really think what you’re doing is right?”

“Shut up, Amagiri. I don’t need you lecturing me to know.”

“Then why—?”

“I said shut up!” Irene held the Gravisheath high as the violet glow raced across the ground.

Frustrated with the non-answer, Ayato took a large leap backward to escape her ability. The target area was even larger this time, but he was getting the hang of dodging.

“You pesky…!” she growled.

I guess we’ll have to show her, Ayato thought. Determined, he positioned himself with the Ser Veresta at his side.

“Burst into bloom—Primrose!” Julis came in for backup.

“Ugh, enough already! Cien Güestia!” The Gravisheath flashed, and an aurora of purple rippled outward, annihilating every one of the fiery primroses.

But that instant was enough for Ayato to run around from the right and jump in through Irene’s guard. “Amagiri Shinmei Style, First Technique: Twin Serpents!”

After a sidelong slash, he stepped in to slice upward.

Irene hissed. The powerful clash of impact and a residual flash tore through the air.

She had just managed to block the attacks with the Gravisheath, but was caught off balance. Seizing his chance, Ayato swung the Ser Veresta not at her—but at her Orga Lux.

“What?!” Irene shouted.

The Ser Veresta was a sizeable weapon, not suited to fine maneuvers, but the same was true of the Gravisheath. Ayato struck with all his might into the mechanism containing the urm-manadite, and while the purple light absorbed most of the blow, he definitely hit something.

The Gravisheath shrieked, high and terrible. When he moved in for another blow, an invisible force knocked him back. “Guh—!”

It must have been the Gravisheath. Ayato fell back into stance and looked up to see Irene’s rage-filled eyes glaring at him.

“Oh, I get it now. Didn’t think you’d come after the Gravisheath…!”

All along, Ayato’s goal had been to break the scythe.

Destroying an Orga Lux was no simple feat, but not impossible with another Orga Lux of equal power.

If he had succeeded, the match would be all but decided. But now that his intent was known, he would not get a second chance.

“It was a good idea, Ayato, but we’re out of time,” Julis called to him, looking serious.

“I know.” It was the best strategy Ayato could come up with, but it had failed. He nodded to Julis and shifted his tactics.

“You guys have a lot of tricks up your sleeve, huh? Well, now it’s my turn!” As if it, too, were burning with anger, the purple glow from the Gravisheath in Irene’s hands intensified. “Diez Mil Fanega!”

The scythe’s blade carved through the air, summoning spheres of gravity. They were smaller than before, perhaps the size of a fist—but the extraordinary thing was their number.

“You’ve got to be kidding…,” muttered Julis, her expression taut with disbelief.

Several dozen spheres multiplied in front of their eyes—no, more than a hundred.

“Like I said, my control isn’t great,” Irene admitted. “But there’s no way to miss with these!”

“Julis! Don’t worry about me! Concentrate on defending yourself! And—”

“Yes, I know!”

As Julis confirmed her next move, Ayato held the Ser Veresta out in front of him.

“I’m gonna demolish you!” Irene brought the Gravisheath down, and the orbs of magic rushed at Ayato.

About one tenth of them were headed for Julis.

That was to be expected, considering Irene’s intent. Ayato was confident that Julis could defend herself.

He inhaled deeply and focused his mind. He imaged a small circle around himself, and concentrated his consciousness inside it. This was his ring of impenetrable defense.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Middle Technique: Yatagarasu.”

The spheres flew at him furiously, but he sliced each one in half the moment it entered his circle.

With lightning-fast strokes, Ayato hacked away the barrage of spheres one by one, never missing. The audience probably couldn’t follow the path of his sword, or even the motion of his arms.

“Are you for real…?” As the orbs dwindled before her eyes, Irene’s face contorted in shock.

Once he had destroyed more than half of the spheres, Ayato went on the offensive. He dashed between the attacking orbs and lunged straight in front of Irene.

“Dammit!” Irene reacted immediately to meet him with the Gravisheath.

The two Orga Luxes collided, and sparks sprayed. Ayato and Irene, their weapons locked, strained against each other, back and forth, until finally Irene leaped backward as the Ser Veresta pushed her away.

“Julis!” Ayato shouted.

“You got it!” replied Julis, who had been evading the gravity attack on her end.

A magic circle materialized directly under Irene where she had landed.

That was Julis’s trap, a fixed ability. “Blossom—Gloriosa!”

Giant flaming claws erupted from the stage to crush Irene in their grasp.

“You’re too obvious!” Irene scoffed, as if she’d seen through it all along. She drove the Gravisheath into the ground, and the fiery glow of magic vanished. The claws of fire, too, wavered and dissipated like a mirage in the summer heat.

The maneuver had clearly failed. But that was quite all right. “There’s no harm in being obvious…especially as a decoy,” Julis said.

“What…?!” Shock came over Irene’s face as another magic circle appeared at her feet.

Although, “at her feet” was not entirely accurate. The second circle was at least ten times larger than the first with a diameter of well over twenty yards.

“This is the hottest of all my traps,” Julis crowed. “I hope you enjoy it!”

As the Aspera Spina descended, the circle shone bright red. The enormous amount of mana flowing into it was palpable.

“Aw, hell!” Irene started to run—but too late.

“Blossom—Rafflesia!”

In that instant, a fiery flower of unbelievable proportions rose up, and an ear-piercing roar engulfed the stage. The explosive gust raged like a hurricane and carried the roasting heat to Ayato, far away as he was. The shock wave obliterated the remaining spheres of gravity.

It was a destructive force beyond comprehension.

Julis had warned Ayato that because of the amount of prana involved, this move required significant time to prepare. Throughout the fight, even while she provided backup for Ayato, Julis had been readying this trap in secret.

“S-sis!” Her face ashen, Priscilla tried to reach her sister, but she couldn’t see through the haze of smoke.

When faced with life-threatening danger, Genestella would instinctively concentrate all their prana on defense, and they did not easily suffer critical injuries. Even so, it was hard to imagine Irene or the Gravisheath emerging from that unscathed.

But—

“You can’t be serious!” Julis gasped.

A crater had been carved out of the stage. In its center, Irene stood with her face down, the Gravisheath dangling from her hands. Her clothes were burnt all over, but she did not seem to be badly hurt.

And an enormous sphere of gravity surrounded her, protecting her.

“Did she use the Gravisheath to suppress the explosion…? She shouldn’t have had that much energy left…,” Julis murmured, stunned.

Ayato was thinking the same. The power Irene had demonstrated was not enough to suppress that destructive attack. Even if she could, it would have cost her her life.

Does that mean she wasn’t fighting at full strength before? No, that can’t be right…

“Oh, sis! You’re okay!” Priscilla’s face lit up as she ran toward her sister, but Irene remained motionless with her head downcast.

An unpleasant thought arose in Ayato’s mind. The Ser Veresta quivered in his hand, like a person shuddering.

“S-sis—?” Priscilla must have sensed that something was wrong, too. She stopped a few paces from Irene and stared uneasily, hands clutched at her chest.

And then Irene started to move.

Weak, stumbling steps carried her toward her sister.

Priscilla began to back away, then tripped and fell.

“Oh, no!”

“Hey—Ayato!”

Just as he began to run to help Priscilla, an oppressive heaviness overwhelmed him and Julis.

“Wh-what’s happening?!” Julis cried as Ayato gasped out loud.

They were both helplessly pinned with a force that sent cracks through the stage. The pain and pressure would be enough to knock them unconscious if they weakened their focus for even a moment.

It was the gravitational force of the Gravisheath—that much was obvious. But its range and power were incomparable to earlier. The entire stage was engulfed in purple light, and they could not stand or even speak, as if held by the weight of a mountain.

Somehow Ayato managed to turn his head to look at the sisters. Priscilla was limp against Irene’s left arm. And in her neck were Irene’s fangs.

“Ngh—What is going on?!” Julis squeezed the words from her throat.

“I don’t think that’s Irene. It’s the Gravisheath!”

“Wh…at…?!”

While this startled Julis, Ayato trusted his gut feeling.

The Gravisheath had taken over Irene’s body. The scythe laughed in its cackling rattle and glowed an ominous violet.

“We have to help Priscilla…!”

Irene kept on drinking Priscilla’s blood. Even a regenerative could be drained of life if she kept paying the price for the power of an Orga Lux.

With all his strength, Ayato struggled to his feet and fought his way toward Irene—toward the Gravisheath.

Horrible, dragging pain tore through his body. This was not just the Gravisheath’s power, but the fact that his time limit had already passed.

At the most, he estimated, he had another minute. If the seal returned, that would be the end.

No matter how he cajoled or cursed them, his legs could only trudge along, slow and heavy. He only had thirty or forty more feet to go, but it seemed like hundreds of yards.

Still, he couldn’t give up now.

The school crests measured vital signs, and they would declare defeat for any contestant who lost consciousness. Since Irene was still in the match, she might still have a shred of consciousness left.

That was Ayato’s only hope.

“Irene—!” He forced out his voice when he was less than ten yards from her.

There was no response. The Gravisheath snickered in her hands.

Fifteen feet… almost close enough to strike.

“Wake up, Irene! Don’t confuse power for the things you treasure!”

Just a few more steps.

“Irene! You have to take hold of what’s important with both hands! Which hand has the thing you want?!”

One moment. For just one moment, light returned to Irene’s eyes.

The abnormal gravity vanished, and the purple light dimmed. Calm and quiet descended as if someone had flipped a switch on the world.

But in the next instant, Irene screamed in agony, and a weight even heavier than before crushed Ayato.

Irene stood slack as a doll, the life draining from her body as Ayato looked on. But still her right hand did not let go of the Gravisheath.

Or rather—the Gravisheath did not let go of her. Irene was no longer its wielder, but merely a vessel of fuel. And once it had used her up, it would surely discard her.

Upright with its shaft resting on the ground, the Gravisheath shone ghostly purple and rattled sharply.

It was a malicious laughter, sadistic and gleeful at the desperation of someone robbed of their last ray of hope.

The oppressive weight kept him from moving a single finger, but fierce rage boiled up within Ayato. A pure anger toward someone with no respect for others.

As he clenched his jaw and squeezed the Ser Veresta, the sword trembled in his hands as if to call back to him. Something inside him connected with the Ser Veresta for the briefest instant.

This is—

He could not describe it in words if he tried, but in that moment Ayato undoubtedly felt it—the will of the Ser Veresta.

And what it expressed—if he were to compare it to a similar human emotion—was revulsion. Something akin to loathing directed at the Gravisheath.

And something else, something it wanted from Ayato… Or rather, a will to test him.

As if it was telling him, “Do it, if you can.”

“Didn’t I tell you I hate tests…?” Ayato complained, but poured his remaining strength into standing.

The crimson light of the Ser Veresta pierced into the purple-stained world. It gradually grew stronger, eating into the violet like a flame through paper.

The Ser Veresta. The magic blade to burn through everything, against which there is no defense.

If that was true…

With a shout, Ayato strained and sliced through the empty air.

And the purple glow swallowing them was cleaved in half.

The Gravisheath froze, and its rattling halted. The aberrant gravitational field was extinguished once again—this time, at its source.

The scythe’s power only dispersed for an instant. But that was all Ayato needed.

He leaped into range and struck at the Gravisheath from below to send it flying from Irene’s hand.

Fixing his eyes on the scythe as it spun end over end, he sliced up toward it as it arced past. Then he turned his wrists and pierced it, impaling it against the ground.

“Amagiri Shinmei Style Middle Technique: Carved-Out Shell.”

After a moment’s pause, a dissonant screech like scraping glass rang out across the stage.

How many watching the battle would recognize that sound as the dying scream of an Orga Lux?

When the screeching faded, a thousand cracks ran through the outer layer of the Gravisheath, and it shattered.

A few seconds later, the automated voice announced the end of the match.

“Irene Urzaiz, Priscilla Urzaiz—unconscious. Winners: Ayato Amagiri and Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld!”

As the loudest cheers yet of the tournament shook the arena, Ayato dropped to the ground, rolled onto his back with his limbs splayed, and let out a soul-deep sigh of relief.