I'm Fighting Kal'tsit? Seriously? Chapter 21

The young Banshees wore the same expressions. Though the Banshee Queen's advice had made them unwilling to miss a single detail from beginning to end, they likewise no longer wanted to keep watching.

Among them, only one person wore a different expression.

At that moment, Nastya seemed to have lost all focus, her gaze fixed solely on the figure standing in midair.

She murmured.

"The sky... the wind... he's floating?"

A Bad Start, One Blunder After Another, Caught in a Bitter Fight, Some Thoughts

At that moment, the situation unfolded exactly as the Banshees had expected.

The Banshee Queen's Incantations flowed from the Bone Pen. The wounds on her body seemed to have no effect on her at all. From beginning to end, Lamaline had not moved even a single step, simply allowing blood to run down her body.

There were three Incantations in total.

The words written by the Bone Pen, the melody chanted between her lips and teeth, and the killing move hidden beyond the wind shield, concealed amid the swarm of Incantations as it waited for its chance.

The written words were deflected by the wind in Pegasus's hand, while the chanted melody was evaded through Pegasus's nimble movements.

But the killing move was aimed three seconds ahead.

The words written dozens of springs ago were activated once more by Lamaline's will. They might have been Incantations she had written in her childhood, before she had fully mastered the technique. Now, those Incantations flowed alongside everything from her past, surrounding the wind, until their master awakened them again at this moment.

Once Pegasus was guided by the wind in another direction, and his movements came to a stop at the same time, the black Incantations would pierce out from the tide like lightning and strike his body directly.

The instant the melody ended, the Banshee chanted again.

"Silence."

The Incantation tore through the wind around him and sank into his body.

The world fell into deep slumber.

No sound entered his consciousness. Gerald realized this was not a simple case of ruptured eardrums or deafness, nor was it an issue with neural transmission, because even the subtle resonance brought by vibrations through his bones had vanished from his mind. It was as though some invisible barrier had completely isolated every sensory mechanism related to sound from his existence.

Gerald tried coughing a few times, yet he could not even sense the vibration in his own chest. An eerie Silence draped over his entire world like a heavy curtain.

Yet he had no time to think any further.

The Banshee Queen's right hand was writing words stroke by stroke, and her mouth was preparing to utter the next Incantation.

Another unchanted Incantation was reactivated, lurking within the ocean formed by Incantations.

A battlefield had no need for flashy moves, only results. If a method worked, then use it until the opponent found a way to break it.

This time, it targeted his eyes.

"Blindness."

The stripping away of his senses had suddenly made even the first two attacks difficult to handle. Though he had guarded against the final killing move, its three-hundred-and-sixty-degree range of attack left him unable to make the right judgment in time.

Another sense left him. This time, he could see nothing. All that remained in his vision was darkness.

There was no need to question Lamaline's combat experience. From the moment Gerald had forcibly traded injury for injury with her, she had realized that physical damage alone would not be enough to stop him. But depriving him of his senses could directly affect the course of battle.

Thus, the instant she created distance, Lamaline made the most decisive choice.

"Pain."

Again and again, again and again, stripping Pegasus of all his senses.

The only problem was—

Lamaline cautiously gripped the Bone Pen in her hand, the words she would continue writing already prepared. She quietly waited for Gerald's next response so she could answer his movements with the greatest speed.

She still remembered the scene in the forest vividly. Few could remain in their original state after being hit by a Banshee's Confusion Incantation, much less directly find the right path and direction, breaking through the defensive measures set by her sisters.

The Carrion Eaters and Liches could do so because of their racial traits.

At least in her view, the Kuranta should not possess such an ability... perhaps the legendary Khan could?

But Gerald did not have crimson hair, nor did he carry the aura of the legendary Nightmare.

The space available for survival was being squeezed.

In the darkness, Gerald realized this.

His sense of smell and taste remained, and his combat instincts still warned him of incoming attacks. But unlike those stories where losing sight and hearing made one's other senses sharper, darkness was simply darkness.

The sound of the wind had disappeared.

Reason told him why this was happening. Combined with the Confusion Incantation he had encountered in the forest, Banshee Incantations seemed to be a form of manipulation on the level of the soul.

The body's stress responses and the physiological mechanisms it displayed—or rather, everything controlled by the flesh—had not been greatly affected. It bypassed the effects at the level of the body's nervous system and instead drove the spell directly into the brain, achieving spiritual isolation.

And rationality told him that this was a metaphysical concept, something that could not be explained. It might exist, yet there was currently no way to prove it.

But when he thought of the Banshees' ability to turn concepts into written words, he could not help giving this hypothesis some measure of agreement.

How could he stop the opponent's next offensive? How could he reclaim what he had lost?

...Perhaps there was a way.

Gerald stood in the darkness that belonged to him. Though he could not hear the wind, the wind still held him aloft.

Put on the ring, take off the ring.

He did not actually need a casting medium anymore.

Ever since the battle with the Feline general had ended, Gerald had been trying to use the power of that piece of cloth on his shoulder.

After waking up, he replayed that battle in his mind. While thinking about how to accelerate his Originium Arts, he directly summoned wind without a source.

When dealing with the young Banshees, he had not even worn his ring, yet he had still been able to use the wind to hang them from the ceiling.

When he encountered the Incantation in the forest, he relaxed his body and immersed both body and mind in his Originium Arts, so the wind led him onto the correct path.

If the wind of the past could gradually explore an area under his control, allowing him to feel the currents around him, or alter the air pressure between regions to accelerate or decelerate his body... though most of his methods had been instinctive, at their core, he needed a process of input and output to reach the result he wanted.

But now, how did the wind know his thoughts, his desires?

And how did it turn those thoughts into reality?

Or was it that—

He himself had already come into contact with something involving the "soul"?

Somewhere Gerald could not perceive, blood was flowing.

The blood of the Royal Courts' ruler ran along her skirt and fell to the ground. It soon accumulated in sufficient quantity, silently blending into the current of Incantations, until it crossed the limits of distance and fused with the cloth on his right arm.

And at the moment the Royal Courts' ruler's blood completely merged with the banner used to hunt demons, within Pegasus's dark world—

With only a single glance.

He was able to see the path along which sorcery flowed.

The Bone Pen in Lamaline's hand trembled.

A sudden wave of panic surged through her heart. Her body took a step back, while her gaze remained fixed on the motionless Gerald.

It was this movement that allowed her to witness a scene she would never forget for the rest of her life—

The silver-haired Pegasus closed his eyes, floating in the air as he gently swung down his still-intact arm.

Then, all Incantations ended.

Isn't This Why Boss Stages Have the Best Rewards?

Sometimes, the worst thing was not death. It could be dying while your money remained behind, or staying alive while all your money vanished.

For Gerald, the worst outcome was probably staying alive while losing the weapon in his hand.

After all, after cutting through all of Lamaline's Incantations, he had no idea what exactly he should do next.

The wind had stopped, completely.

He no longer had the strength to maintain even the slightest operation of his Originium Arts. Even trying to take two steps nearly made him fall due to the disorder in his senses.

His sense of direction had long since collapsed. The ground beneath his feet seemed to slide and twist constantly, making it difficult even to keep his balance, much less retrieve his sword.

"..."

What should he do next? Could close combat injure the Royal Courts' ruler? The circular arena was suitable for maneuvering, but what if she still had the strength to continue casting Incantations? The possibility was not low. Lamaline could still create new Incantations through herself, and the Bone Pen in her hand could continue writing words... was there still room to trade injury for injury?

He was still alive. Even on the surface, only his hand had been severed, and he had merely lost more blood.

But if he could not find a way to fight back, there was no point in lingering on no matter how stubbornly he survived.

No, think calmly. Lamaline's position had always been imprinted in his mind, and the sword had fallen beside her. All he needed to do now was—

His body moved faster than his thoughts.

His sense of smell became his guide. The bloody scent seeping from Lamaline's wounds spread through the soundless, formless world like a faint red thread, leading him onward.

Gerald lowered his body and swiftly took his first step toward the sword's calculated location.

There was no possibility of concealment, so he simply poured all his strength into speed. The sword's location became incomparably clear in his mind. There was no room for extra adjustment, no possibility of stopping. This was the only way to resolve things.

Lamaline's fingers twitched, and Gerald's instincts caught the movement—perhaps she was preparing to cast an Incantation, or perhaps it was some other motion.

He did not verify it. There was too little time.

Roll, grab the sword, rise swiftly, charge.

The blade drew a clean arc forward, finally coming to rest beside Lamaline's neck.

Lamaline did not change her position, nor did she attempt to block him. Her bleeding wound remained beneath the edge of his blade. Clearly, she had no intention of taking any defensive stance against the incoming attack—or perhaps she had long since prepared a means of defense.

Until Gerald realized that his sense of touch had returned.

That long-lost solidity flooded back like a tide. He felt the tension in his arm, felt the coldness of the sword hilt, even felt the faint tremors in the air.

And at the very instant his sense of touch returned, a pair of soft hands gently touched his face.

Her fingertips brushed across his cheek and stopped at his eyelids, caressing them gently until he obeyed without realizing it.

So Gerald tried opening his eyes. Blinding light stabbed into his retinas like blades, forcing him to narrow his eyes slightly as he tried to adapt to the sudden brightness.

He saw her.

He saw that she had already removed the veil from her face.

He saw her ignore the sword at her neck. Without even the slightest defensive measure, she took a step closer to him. The blade sank slightly with her movement, drawing blood from her skin, yet it still failed to provoke any reaction from her.

He saw the blood seeping from her neck and instinctively moved the sword aside. So she stepped even closer, nearly pressing against him.

He saw her open her mouth and say several words.

[----]

The moment she finished speaking, the delayed sound finally surged into Gerald's ears like a flood. Cries of alarm, screams, and the chaotic noise tearing through the air all struck his eardrums at once, forcing him to clutch his head.

Only after the stabbing pain in his mind faded did he draw a breath, lower his head slightly, and look at the Banshee who was now almost at eye level with him.

"You know I couldn't hear what you just said, right?" Gerald finally spoke his first words to Lamaline since the battle. "Why not say it again?"

"During that time just now, I thought many times about what you might say." There seemed to be a touch more helplessness between Lamaline's brows, but the smile on her face never faded, nor did her gaze shift. "But I truly didn't expect that request. I thought you'd be more tactful."

"I am quite tactful with people who aren't worth spending effort or thought on."

Gerald wanted to say more, but his consciousness seemed unaware that his body had already reached its limit—having his senses stripped away, forcibly driving his Originium Arts, then finding a way to cut through the Incantations amid countless streams of information. Neither his mind nor body could support him continuing like this.

But he had come from the military. By sheer willpower alone, staying conscious was not a problem.

"You're exhausted." Lamaline promptly supported Gerald's body, unconcerned with how many people on the surrounding platforms were watching them now. "And severely injured."

Gerald glanced at the Banshee Queen, who for some reason was firmly holding his body in place with her hands. "You're quite skilled at changing the subject, ma'am."

Those words made the blush by Lamaline's ears deepen. She could only sigh. "What I mean is that the finest ruler of the Royal Courts among the Banshees will naturally also be the finest healing Incantation caster. Or do you think I alone am not enough, and you would prefer other Banshees to help treat you as well?"

"I merely hope Banshees in that context appear in other situations."

Gerald answered her words while avoiding the important parts. "For example, right now, you should speak with those young Banshees as a ruler of the Royal Courts, or at least explain the situation to your sisters. They look very afraid that I'll cut you down with one swing of my sword."

That was indeed the truth.