Did I Fight Kal'tsit? Seriously?

"Can't be stopped?"

"Ha, so that's how it is. You're only realizing this now—"

His voice cut off abruptly.

At first, the change was barely noticeable. It was only the pipes along the walls giving off a low hum.

Gradually, the sensation of deceleration became more obvious. The entire floor began to tremble faintly, the hanging lamps in the room swayed slightly, and muffled thuds echoed from within the walls before eventually giving way to silence.

Had they been in the only corridor where the outside could be seen, they would have noticed the wilderness beyond the prison gradually shifting from a blur racing past at high speed into a clear view.

The barren earth was covered in mottled cracks and scars carved by wind and sand. Dead vegetation and scattered rocks could occasionally be seen.

The entire mobile platform was like a beast in its twilight years, slowly losing its power amid that desolation and gradually coming to a halt.

"W-what—?"

For the first time, Randall's voice carried panic and disbelief. "My child, why?! Why did it stop?! Even if those two [Scepters] were killed, they couldn't possibly affect the power supply!! Where's the acceleration?! Why isn't it speeding up?!!!"

A voice gradually drifted in from afar.

"You really do talk too much."

The silver-haired Pegasus returned to the space, his footsteps carrying a sound Saria knew well. The clothes covering his upper body had vanished at some point, and in the unseen world, the colors flowing across it had become exceedingly dim.

Gerald walked over to Saria's side and looked at her expression as it gradually calmed.

"You too. Aren't you worried at all? Even I didn't know whether I could stop this thing."

She answered him with a reassuring yet utterly baffled look.

"I won't doubt you."

Saria said.

Then, a Hand Stopped the Tram

Reducing entropy was far, far more difficult than increasing it.

The process of moving from disorder toward order required a vast amount of external energy, like building a castle amid a chaotic ruin.

Every brick and stone in those ruins lay scattered without any order. Picking them up one by one, sorting them, transporting them, and assembling them into a sturdy structure took an enormous amount of time and effort.

By comparison, increasing entropy was much simpler. The castle needed no outside force; with nothing but the passage of time, wind and rain would erode it, and its bricks and stones would naturally collapse and loosen, returning to a disordered state of ruin.

More than ten minutes earlier, Gerald had faced precisely such a problem upon arriving in the power room.

His choice had been simple.

Only an idiot would think about whether something could be done at a critical moment like this. The issue was that if he didn't do it, the constantly accelerating Mansfield would eventually deviate from its still-functioning automated cruise mode—yes, even though Randall had destroyed the brake controls, the system itself was still helping the mobile platform adjust its course.

Yet the accumulated speed would still, once it greatly exceeded the threshold, cause the mobile platform to crash directly into some mountainside and explode instantly.

Trying to stop all of Mansfield head-on with wind was even less possible. That would be like falling vertically into water from several thousand meters in the air—the entire power deck would explode in an instant.

So there was no other way.

Within just a few minutes, he had to use wind as a catalyst to construct a "wind barrier" around the power core, guiding the remaining kinetic energy into a safe release and bringing Mansfield to a gradual stop.

And so, standing before Saria now was Gerald, nearly burned out.

The colors on that cloth had nearly run dry. If he conserved them, they would probably last, but for a long while to come, he would only be able to manipulate Originium Arts through a casting medium.

Fortunately, the inhibitor on his body had already been removed. He could always find a casting medium if he looked around.

"Then you're genuinely too confident." Hearing the resolve in Saria's voice, he couldn't help sighing. He had no idea why Saria had suddenly placed such unconditional trust in him. "If I hadn't managed it, I'd have had to forcibly take you with me and leave through the air."

"But the result speaks for itself." Ignoring Randall, who had suddenly gone mad and was trembling in his own vomit, Saria sealed his mouth with Calcification. "We should be not far off course from Columbia now. Ticarondo must have noticed Mansfield's abnormal condition, and official support will arrive soon."

Gerald stretched his body. Without clothes on his upper half, he felt rather chilly. Hopefully, when they passed the guards' lounge, he could conveniently steal a few garments. "More or less. I suggest you put away Enamel. When you head back, remember to clear away any traces of yourself along the route. Don't forget why you came in here."

"..."

Saria remained silent for a long time.

Although most of Randall's earlier words had been useless manipulation, a few of them had indeed been true—she now had to consider how to deal with the current situation.

"Has Mansfield's power deck been damaged?" Saria asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Though that output just now was completely on the path to self-destruction, fortunately, every move we made was fast, and we bought ourselves plenty of time." Gerald glanced at the huge hole they had smashed into the wall and sighed. "In theory, it should only need the prison's braking system reset, but I don't know whether any part of the power deck has melted down."

"You..."

Saria noticed the difference between him and before. "You can't feel it anymore?"

"Just standing here and talking to you is exhausting now." Gerald slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. "The inside of the power deck is too complicated. We can only wait for Ticarondo's rescue team."

"So," he concluded, "whether we're here or not won't make any difference to this prison. We'll just have to leave it to fate."

Saria opened her mouth, wanting to say something.

Gerald quickly interrupted her. "Don't overthink it, Saria."

"Mansfield may be a mobile platform, but this anomaly will definitely draw attention." Gerald added, "Considering Randall's private experiments, Columbia's authorities will take the initiative to cover up my tracks—they won't be afraid of me spreading the matter. As long as I can leave Columbia, they'd be happy for me to do so."

Before leaving, the wind had carried every conversation to his ears. For now, that deduction didn't seem too problematic... perhaps.

To be honest, he wasn't confident in what he was saying.

There was a premise to this situation.

Everything here could not be leaked, especially not to Columbia's military—even if they normally wouldn't care about a place like a prison.

In other words, Randall had to die here.

That undoubtedly challenged the bottom line of the Vouivre before him.

"Those people who survived the experiments..."

Saria's gaze passed through the wall, falling on the bodies ravaged and altered by the experiments. Her deeply furrowed brow revealed the struggle in her heart. "You've been to battlefields, Gerald. You've seen many cruel sights... Can you tell me, in your eyes, is there any chance they could... return to normal?"

Standing beside her, Gerald's eyes rested on those twisted bodies, and his expression did not change in the slightest. "They're already dead."

Those words fell like a heavy stone upon Saria's heart.

She didn't respond immediately. She merely raised her head slightly to look at Gerald, waiting for him to continue.

Clearly, the Pegasus left no room for compromise. Gerald stated his answer without hesitation. "You know the answer too, Saria. There isn't any consciousness left in them. Only their spinal cords are mechanically controlling their bodies' responses. The time when they could have been saved passed long ago."

Upon hearing that reply, Saria's hand tightened slightly, her nails nearly digging into her palm.

Her gaze fell upon the experimental subjects around them once more. Emotions tangled together and tore at her chest, yet there was no outlet through which she could release her turmoil.

So Gerald did something.

Invisible wind wrapped around Saria's body and suddenly lifted her into the air.

This force was even stronger than when he had restrained Randall. There was no point in the air for her to brace against, and the only method she could think of—using Enamel as a bridge to gain leverage—was shattered as the wind infiltrated it from within.

"I was the one who crossed your line, Saria."

Looking into those clear eyes, Gerald spoke each word distinctly. "But it wasn't because you didn't try. It was because of me, because I stopped you."

"Just blame it on me."

Saria didn't answer.

Throughout the time she was held aloft by the wind, she didn't struggle much, but that complicated gaze never left Gerald for even a second. Only after the wind weakened and set her back on the ground did it finally shift.

A moment later, she slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'll wait for you at the entrance, Gerald."

Saria recalled her Enamel, and the pure white crystals swiftly vanished into the air. Step by step, she walked forward, then lightly leaped onto the gap in the center of the wall.

That solitary figure stood atop it, as though waiting for something.

Only after a long while did she turn back to Gerald and say:

"Thank you."

Then her figure disappeared from above, lightly landing in the room on the other side.

The only ones left in the space were the Pegasus counting down while staring at the ceiling and Randall, who lay on the ground in a crazed state.

And the remaining two experimental subjects still within the room—no, two pitiable children.

They were around sixteen or seventeen now. How many years had passed since the moment they underwent the experiments?

Gerald didn't know, but there were only two things he could do now.

This was the first.

"Though I don't know whether you can hear me. If you can't, just take this as me muttering to myself."

Gerald sighed and coldly cast his gaze upon the old man convulsing on the ground. "When I stood before my father's coffin, watched Kazimierz's flag cover it, yet saw even a gust of wind blow that rotten cloth away, I swore an oath."

"This power would be used for myself."

"Not for Kazimierz, nor for loftier ideals, but for my desires, the people I love, the people I trust, and the people I respect."

"Therefore, I don't care what reasons you have, what hardships you endured... Since I have seen the suffering you created, that suffering should naturally be returned to you. Otherwise, it would be far too unfair. Of course, it will be the same when I die. I will be prepared for suffering a hundred times worse than yours."

"And now."

"—May your death bring peace to others."

The instant his words fell, countless wind blades as thin as knife edges appeared around Randall.

As his flesh was sliced open, his tendons and bones severed along with it, blood spilling forth, the howl of agony that reached into his marrow was forced back into his abdomen by the wind. His entire face swelled purple like a sweet potato.

Only five minutes later did the carved wounds completely cover his body, and death arrived as promised, taking away his breath.

The first thing was done.

Gerald slowly straightened and walked toward the room beyond the marble door.

On the two beds there sat two children who would never react again.

Gerald walked to the bedside and reached for the storybook on the nightstand.

"This thing... forget it. It's just a hypocritical show those beasts in human skin put on for their experiments. You probably wouldn't want to hear it either. Though perhaps I've judged wrong."

He slowly placed the book back on the table and softly said to the two sitting on the beds, "I'm sorry. If I'd known earlier, I should have gone to find Lamaline and learned how to sing Banshee's Lament."

"But it's all right. I understand. I've been through it."

Gerald lowered his voice. Wind turned into a sword in his hand. "It will only take an instant. You'll go to a new place and begin new lives. I know because I once walked the same path. It was a smooth road, one without pain... I promise you."

"So good night, children. You'll have a sweet dream."

The sword in his hand gently entered their bodies.

At some point, a tear slipped from their eyes, crossed their cheeks, and fell silently upon the floor that had once been spotless, making a faint sound.

In the end, everything returned to silence.

What Should I Do About This Tail When We Sleep Together?

When Gerald left that space, the wind shredded everything around it.

Walls, instruments, documents, even tiny particles on the ground were swept into a violent vortex and turned to debris that scattered on the wind. By the time those who came later arrived, all that remained was an untraceable blank silence, along with blood that had seeped into the rubble.

The rescue team tried to uncover what had happened there from the faintest clues. Maintenance personnel came to the power deck and beneath the mobile platform, where they found the engine's main shaft nearly torn apart, several faint dark-red scorch marks on the ground, and metal that had melted before cooling into irregular lumps.

This core, which had once driven the entire mobile platform forward, had now become a cooled corpse.

As the search drew to a close, the focus of the investigation had long shifted from the ruins as a whole to a more targeted direction. As for the other prisoners who had taken the opportunity to flee, they were even less within the investigators' concern.

After the intelligence was reported upward layer by layer, the person responsible for making the final decision tossed the file in hand into the trash. A new warden would soon take office at Mansfield and take over the prison that had lost its master.

The new prison would adopt an entirely new power system. To "mourn" the former warden's sacrifice in this incident, Mansfield, originally a pilot prison for Columbia, was soon given a new name as well.

Thus, everything concerning Randall was blown away by the wind, returning to the wilderness.

But that was all later.

At least for now, Ticarondo's rescue team had yet to arrive, and Gerald and Saria had only just left the mobile platform. From morning to noon, although much had happened in between, not much time had actually passed.