The white-haired Dragon Girl did not know—she had never even thought these questions worth considering. She knew she could clearly see the visitor's movements only because her opponent had slowed down. She knew she could catch the incoming sword slashes only because the force behind the greatsword had always matched the strength in her own arms. She had never expected her flames to burn through even a single strand of Flame-haired Woman's hair, nor had she ever believed her odds of victory were even one in ten thousand.
If she really wanted to kill me, she would only need one sword strike.
She was always like this.
She had always been like this.
Unaware of her own status and influence. Blind to the goodwill and malice of others.
Just like Twilight.
Even when all things entered their final days, she continued to illuminate the earth. Twilight, who showed compassion to everything except herself... Even if you vented some of those twisted urges in your heart, that would be fine. But why... why did you always live as though you were a god?
Blades clashed, while flames entwined with flames. In a thousand exchanges, Talulah had not once managed to break through the sword perimeter the visitor had casually constructed. And even this simple defense and parrying gradually left her struggling to keep up, revealing her growing helplessness.
"This is a trap. I know that. Nothing you've done was really for Chernobog. You merely used it as bait to lure me here." The visitor's voice passed through the curtain of swords, her breathing steady, as casual as idle conversation during a stroll, without the slightest trace of urgency. "You knew I would come. You knew who I was. And I don't want to kill you. You should be able to feel that, too."
The white-haired Dragon Girl retreated slightly. When she showed the inclination to speak, the pressure on her hands abruptly dropped by more than half—ah, yes, just like this. There was no time for so much talking in an intense battle. Fighting while speaking was something that only ever happened during a sparring lesson.
"You still have a chance, even after making such a grave mistake."
"Put down your sword and leave with me. I've found a better way to break this deadlock." The visitor's voice held sincerity, which she could hear and sense. She knew very well that it came from her opponent's goodwill and hopes. As long as she reached out her hand, she could reach safe shores no matter how perilous the situation.
The shore—turn around, and the shore was right there. This was a privilege and special treatment reserved for her alone.
"I'm afraid I must refuse your goodwill." Yet the white-haired Dragon Girl did not hesitate for even an instant.
She lightly stamped the ground, and the hundreds upon hundreds of flame seeds buried in advance throughout the floor detonated at once. The searing heat and explosions transformed the entire floor into a molten lake of fire, while higher up in the tower, signs of collapse and destruction erupted in succession.
This is useless, she knew.
She even knew that the explosion would not be enough to block her opponent's vision.
Because in the very next moment, a raging gust of wind bound her body. It wrapped around her shell, smashed through the collapsing tower floor, and sent her plunging toward a distant location. She could sense the wall behind her shattering. She could sense the friction of the flowing earth and the ground splitting apart. When the impact swept through her entire body, she saw the central control tower break, tilt, and collapse at the edge of her vision. The plaza around her was empty, as though it had been scoured by the main cannon.
Then excruciating pain swept through her entire body.
How many bones are broken? Are my internal organs all right?
Ah, it doesn't matter. She doesn't want me dead, so I'll definitely survive.
The white-haired Dragon Girl raised her head, ignoring her battered body. She sniffed lightly and, as she wished, caught the sulfur filling the air. As the hues of Twilight spread once more, she heard the heels of high-heeled shoes striking the ground. While struggling to stand, she saw the Flame-haired Sarkaz standing about three meters in front of her.
She looked furious—not because the ground trap had attacked her, but because she had been forced to use such a brutal method to throw her here.
Just like every simulation in the past.
Thus, Talulah wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, stood up, and raised the sword in her hand once more.
"I'm very confused." Fiery candlelight flickered in the Sarkaz's eyes. With one raised finger, she blocked Talulah's full-powered slash. With a flick of that fingertip, an impact like a battering ram sent Talulah crashing through the outer wall of an abandoned warehouse. She moved even faster than the Dragon Girl had been thrown, reaching her back a moment before Talulah's spine could strike the sharp objects inside the warehouse. A whip-like kick then sent the Dragon Girl, along with the warehouse doors, smashing into the street.
"I clearly removed the curse in your heart back then, and I can't sense any mental contamination or psychological distortion in you now. Everything you've done came from your true feelings. Yet three years ago, you clearly wished to bring liberation to the Infected across the land and new hope to this world where everyone struggled just to live."
The warehouse doors shattered, and a slender hand pressed down on the Dragon Girl's head. Amid an indistinct murmur, the Dragon Girl's head slammed into a stone pillar and broke the load-bearing column, reinforced with steel bars, while leaving her skull intact. The sensation in her head immediately vanished, and as her ears rang and her vision swam, the same hand seized her ankle.
"So back then, I left without worry."
The sensation of centrifugal force surged over her as she was forced into a spin. When the potential energy accumulated to its limit, it erupted completely alongside her rapidly rising blood pressure.
"Yet now, you've become like this."
She could not see. She could not hear. When her senses returned, the Dragon Girl found herself embedded in a wall far from both the plaza and the warehouse, like some comical villain from a manga. Yet in her hands, she still tightly gripped that sword that had proven of little use.
Holding the sword, gripping its hilt.
She doesn't want to kill me.
She's waiting for me to put down the sword myself.
I still have no chance of winning.
But my objective has finally seen a glimmer of hope.
Thus, she climbed down from the wall and steadied herself. She raised her sword and held it before her chest.
"Do you still remember the battle atop the snowy mountain?"
The Flame-haired Sarkaz kicked a fully loaded truck into the air. Dozens of tons of mass, wrapped in a powerful gust of wind, rushed toward her face. She dodged, then saw a streetlamp as thick as a bowl being casually torn free and hurled at her chest at a tip speed approaching that of sound!
She soared high into the air like a baseball.
Only then did Flame-haired Woman's answer reach her ears.
"I remember it. I forgot it. Some memories become scars simply by existing. The way to heal is to forget... You know about that battle? It was interesting, but I don't see what it has to do with your current situation."
Ah... she forgot. That was only natural. The things on the snowy mountain dared not let her recall everything she had once done. She only knew that she had fought there, but she had forgotten everything except the fact that the battle had taken place.
But I remember. I know. I know why she climbed that mountain, and I know what she did for me... for all the ordinary people of this world, and how great a price she paid.
So I can't use this to provoke her... She'll remember sooner or later, because she's always growing stronger. Because she is Surtr.
Behind her came the solid sensation of impact. There was the sound of bones cracking and the coppery sweetness of blood. The Dragon Girl struggled to rise, every breath and drop of blood in her body boiling together.
"No, it does."
She gained a new, temporary, explosive surge of power. That power allowed her to barely keep up with the suddenly accelerating strikes of the black-and-red greatsword. She knew her opponent still had not used her full strength... She did not even know whether this monster wearing a Sarkaz exterior had used any strength at all.
"Because you survived leaving the snowy mountain, and after challenging the legendary deity, you still remained active across the land."
A hundred collisions, a hundred exchanges. Sword slashes formed a storm that swept across the earth.
"You... are a god of the present age. Not that Black Serpent, who merely looked the part and called herself a god. You are a true immortal force that walked out of mythology and now strode across the earth."
"And you once told me... the people of this world don't need gods or emperors."
Laevateinn's blade tore through the curtain of wind and pointed straight at her brow.
"...But gods and emperors objectively exist, right here. And... she doesn't need the people of this world, either."
Section Twenty-Seven: Mortals Must All Serve
What was she trying to say?
What was she trying to express?
Was I so strong that I should become the target to be defeated? Was my power so immense that she would drag the entire Reunion Movement, tens of thousands of Infected, and hundreds of thousands of innocent people caught up in it into this just to try to defeat me?
Before you continue