The Final Challenge (3)

Whooooosh!--- BOOOOM!!!

The ground shattered like glass under the tremendous impact. Countless fragments flew into the air as dust engulfed the surroundings. Yet the girl standing calmly at the center remained completely unscathed. The greatsword, driven down with enough force to crush its target, had struck the ground several steps away from her instead.

Of course, that had not been his intention. The boss, bewildered by the incomprehensible sight, soon discovered the cause. Creak! Creak-creak……

Thin, glittering silver threads stretched across the air. One of his arms had been bound by dozens of slender strands. Though they could not fully restrain his immense strength, they had been enough to slightly alter the sword’s trajectory.

The boss snorted at the silver threads wrapped tightly around his arm and poured power into his muscles. His posture radiated confidence that he could snap them with ease. But that confidence did not last long.

The threads he had expected to break under moderate force instead tightened further, constricting his arm. His limb trembled with spasms from the crushing pressure. A grating, metallic screech echoed in every direction as the bound arm slowly began to move against his will. It was as though an external force were puppeteering him.

The one controlling it stood right in front of him. The girl, arms crossed, pulled the taut silver threads with both hands. Golden eyes glowing between the smiling mask stared straight ahead without the slightest tremor. That figure, radiating chilling killing intent, was enough to awaken primal fear in anyone who met her gaze.

Only then did he grasp the gravity of the situation. Instinctively, he tensed every muscle in his body. Using his lower half as an anchor, he twisted his torso and spun with full force. The sudden rotation yanked the girl—who had been controlling the threads—into the air along with him.

Though she had been forcibly launched skyward, the expression hidden behind her mask remained ice-cold. Her body, flung upward by the boss’s strength, stopped precisely at the limit of the threads’ length. At that instant the silver strands connecting them snapped taut.

Seeing this, the black knight seized the threads coiled around his arm. Instead of severing them, he yanked them toward himself with all his might. In a contest of raw power, the girl stood no chance. Pulled helplessly through the air, she offered no resistance. Yet even as she was dragged toward him, her gaze never wavered from the towering knight.

One hand gripping the threads binding his arm, the other clutching his greatsword, the knight’s intent was clear: drag her close with overwhelming force, then strike at the perfect moment. With her feet off the ground, evasion seemed impossible.

She could have escaped by cutting the threads, but instead she narrowed her eyes and surrendered to the pull. At the same time, she thrust her free hand forward. A wire shot out at high speed, aimed at the knight’s ankle—the leg supporting his massive frame.

Once the thread had anchored itself, the girl flicked her fingers and subtly adjusted the strands binding his arm. The boss, already on high alert, poured strength into his limb, so the movement was minimal. Yet for a split second his attention shifted entirely to his arm.

That was exactly what she had been waiting for.

Cre-e-e-e-eak!!

In that instant, she reinforced her muscles to their limit and yanked the thread wrapped around his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ankle with everything she had. The boss had known the thread was there, but because the force had felt negligible, he had made a fatal miscalculation. He had judged it too insignificant to warrant countermeasures. His desperate desire not to miss the chance to crush her had likely contributed as well.

He had underestimated her ability to exert far greater strength. The price came immediately.

!!!

His balance shattered. The colossal knight staggered violently. The perfect timing he had been waiting for vanished. He swung his greatsword belatedly, but the girl twisted her body just enough to let the blade glance harmlessly past.

She landed safely on the ground, having narrowly escaped the crisis. Without hesitation, she yanked the wires connected to both hands. Unable to regain his footing, the boss crashed to the earth in an unsightly heap.

It was a one-sided battle in which she toyed with her opponent completely. Even without taking damage, the humiliation of being played with by a mere human far weaker than himself was enormous. Fury surged to the top of his head.

The black knight rose at once, bellowing with killing intent, and charged. His eyes glowed crimson as he burned with the single desire to tear the small human apart. Yet the ensuing clash unfolded much the same as before.

The boss rampaged in blind rage, but no matter how wildly he struggled, he could not reach his target. The girl manipulated countless silver threads with perfect freedom, tormenting him endlessly. She dodged every attack by a hair’s breadth, her movements almost mocking. She used the threads like a trapeze artist, soaring through the air, constantly shifting into his blind spots to sow confusion.

When he finally resorted to swinging his greatsword to sever the threads, it proved meaningless. The cleanly bisected strands immediately rejoined, the liquid-like connection point reverting to ordinary silver thread as though nothing had happened.

Before the dense spiderweb of wires, the towering knight was nothing more than prey caught in a trap. He resisted with all his strength, yet escape from the deeply embedded snare was impossible.

Slowly, inexorably, the thin silver threads tightened from every direction. As control over his body gradually slipped away, the fallen knight made one final, desperate lunge, stretching his arm toward the figure just out of reach.

A girl in an antique black dress wearing a white mask, golden eyes visible through the eyeholes. He poured every last ounce of strength into grasping that shining gold… but it was already too late.

-----

Cre-e-e-e-eak……

Clack! Clack! Clack!…..

The knight’s hand stopped completely, only about a meter away. The girl stared expressionlessly at the black gauntlet that had come so close, then shifted her gaze beyond it. There stood the black knight, perfectly bound by hundreds—thousands—of silver threads. He looked like prey trapped in a spiderweb, awaiting death.

A grating noise still came from his trembling body and armor; he had not yet given up resistance. But at this point, escape by his own power was impossible. Receiving help from his witch subordinates was equally impossible. They only appeared after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his stamina had dropped to a certain threshold, and his current condition remained essentially intact.

Still pouring strength into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the taut wires, I stared at the knight before me. His limbs and every joint were completely restrained. He had become my marionette. I had no idea how much hardship it had taken to reach this point. I had memorized every possible unexpected situation and prepared countermeasures in advance. I had learned through real combat exactly how many threads to use and how much force to apply to control his movements perfectly.

Only because of those weeks of grueling effort could I now leisurely admire the thoroughly bound boss. Yet merely binding him changed nothing. If I delayed any longer, he would sense the crisis and summon troublesome minions. I had to move to the next stage immediately.

Having safely completed the first objective, I moved my fingers fluidly, as though playing a piano. The boss’s rigid body began to move slowly. He thrashed violently in resistance, but the effort was futile. His torso and legs returned to their original positions, and the arm stretched toward me retracted as though time were rewinding.

When the process finished, the boss stood upright once more. Forced to open his hand, the greatsword slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.

Sensing that preparations were complete, I extended both hands forward, threads still connected, and interlaced my fingers. I activated the ability once more.

Along with the mechanical voice echoing in my mind, strength drained from my body, replaced by a different, mystical sensation. The method I had chosen to deplete the boss’s stamina was magic. There had never been any other option to begin with. However, with all my stats invested in Residual, the number of spells I could cast was extremely limited. I had to inflict lethal damage with very little mana.

Recalling how pouring magic over his armor in the first attempt had been ineffective, my current mana was hopelessly insufficient. There was only one way: strike directly at the body inside the armor with the most damaging spell possible. And there was only one method that could achieve that.

“Fire-attribute magic. Hellfire.”

The wires, proven resistant to high temperatures, served as conduits. Flames spread in an instant, engulfing the boss completely. Yet the black armor itself remained untouched by the fire. I had deliberately threaded the wires through the gaps in the armor when binding him, and now all the flames were concentrated there. Without the armor’s primary protection, he received every bit of damage directly. The lethality was beyond imagination.

Intense heat generated inside the armor by the flames was trapped, repeatedly scorching the body within—an endless cycle. That was the method I had devised to deal maximum damage with minimum mana. Its effect appeared immediately.

Countless messages flooded my vision, enough to obscure it. But my gaze remained fixed straight ahead. Dense flames continued pouring through the gaps in the armor, accompanied by rising black smoke. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, twisting my expression involuntarily.

At the same time, the movements transmitted through the wires gradually weakened. The boss lowered his head as though he had exhausted even the strength to resist. Yet my expression remained hardened. Everything up to this point had gone according ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to plan. What came next was the most important—and most difficult—stage.

Right on cue, the familiar notification rang in my mind. At the same moment, they emerged from behind the massive throne at the far end of the boss room. Watching the scene, I swallowed hard, tension etched across my face. If what had come before was merely the preview, then the main event was only just beginning. The outcome of this raid would likely be decided by what happened next.

A mysterious magical girl and the witches clad in black robes now faced each other with the boss between them. The second round had begun.