Because I Couldn't Stand You
Bringing Allen down did not take long. After all, the gap in skill between the two of us had been considerable from the very start.
'...Still, it ended even faster than I expected.'
Not that I thought my skills fell short of his — but with the servants to deal with beforehand, I'd simply assumed a fair stretch of time would have passed by now.
'Allen going down quicker than expected... well, that's a mercy.'
A mercy for me, of course — and yet, for some reason, something about it nagged at me.
Until moments ago, his eyes had burned with a will stronger than anyone's. Even the sword he swung had let that will show through, little by little. Now none of it remained. His eyes, and the blade lying fallen on the ground with them — whether his grip had simply failed him or he'd let it slip by accident, I couldn't tell, but even now he made no move to pick it back up.
As if he no longer had the confidence to fight at all.
"...."
"...Ha, honestly... would it kill you to stop finding me more people to heal?"
"...It doesn't suit him."
"I'm sorry?"
Beside me, I could feel the Saintess heaving sigh after sigh as she made her way slowly toward me, but far from turning to face her, I kept my eyes fixed on Allen where he lay. It didn't suit him, that look. Knowing his nature as I did, I understood it less than ever.
Why? Why had he given up here — why wasn't he coming at me anymore? So long as he kept stalling, I was the one at a disadvantage, and there was no way he didn't know it.
"No. Please, just treat him."
Still, I chose not to dwell on it. If he wanted to lie there, so much the better for me — and it was a question I could ask anytime, later if not now.
"I was going to do that even without you telling... me..."
"Saintess? What's wrong all of a sudden—"
"...Wow. My luck today is truly rotten."
At that instant, violet light erupted.
From Allen, who still lay sprawled on his back in the dirt.
It was a strange, wondrous sight — the kind you could lose yourself staring at. If only that beautiful violet glow hadn't felt chillingly, dreadfully ominous.
"...!"
My instincts began whispering soft and low into my ear. Get away from that light. Right now. As far as you can.
"P-pardon me..!"
"W-wait, what is that.. KYAAAH!!"
On pure instinct, I threw one arm around the Saintess's waist and scrambled backward. For this one moment, at least, I was sincerely grateful for her slight frame. A heartbeat later, and we would both have been swallowed by that light.
"Y-you!! What is the meaning of..!"
"Calm down and get a barrier up..!!"
"I'm sorry? What do you— huh..?"
Yes, laying hands on her without leave was my fault a hundred times over. But now was not the time to weigh who owed whom an apology. Look at that. That unspeakably sinister violet light was gathering, converging on a single point.
"W-wait, what on earth is..?"
"I don't know either — barrier first..!"
"R-right..!"
Once she'd grasped the situation, golden holy power began to smolder up over her snow-white vestments, and as her veil swayed gently, her small lips parted.
"Let There Be Light (Ar niel)"
The golden radiance surging from her body shimmered once, then settled over her, over me, over everyone standing behind us — and in that same breath, the violet detonated.
KWAAAAAAAAANG—
Thanks to the holy barrier thrown up none too soon, I felt none of the shock — but neither it nor anything else could hold back the wind and smoke the blast kicked up.
"C-cough, cough! Ugh... the smoke..."
"Doesn't seem we were too late.. cough..."
"Big brother, what about Lord Allen..?"
Well. After a blast like that, I couldn't begin to guess what state he was in. The Saintess's holy power had certainly been meant for Allen — but then, the person standing closest to the explosion had also been Allen.
"...First, we clear this smoke."
"Oh, I'll handle that!"
"...?"
"What's with that face? I'm offering to help, you know."
"...No, it's nothing."
Of course I couldn't help the look on my face. She was not the type to hand out kindness so freely.
"What, you don't want it?"
"...No, it's nothing. Please, go ahead."
We looked equally unenthused about the arrangement, but I saw no reason to refuse her offer. For all I knew it really was goodwill, just as she said — and I had no desire to earn a rumor that I'd snubbed a duke's daughter.
"...You don't seem thrilled about it. Well, I suppose that can't be helped?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she began smacking her palms together with sharp cracks, and behind her, shadow came seething up out of the ground.
"This is my first time seeing Lady Shino's magic, and it's quite..."
"Off-putting, you think?"
"Ah, no — that's not what I..."
"It doesn't bother me one bit. I hear it all the time!"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The clapping rang on and on, and with every crack, the shadow rising behind her drew itself together toward a single point. By the time the sound finally died away, that shadow had already swollen to the size of a grown man's head.
"Devour it, Gaki."
— The Hungry Ghost —
The instant her words ended, a mouth split open across the sphere of shadow — a mouth like a beast's muzzle, withered and twisted. Moments later, that muzzle wrenched wide with a wet, tearing shriek—
FWOOOOOSH—
—and it began gulping down the smoke at a tremendous clip. Enough to put a twenty-first-century vacuum cleaner in mind.
"...Impressive."
"So? Isn't he just adorable?"
"No... 'adorable' wasn't quite what I felt, watching it."
"...Is it because you're a shrimp? No eye for cuteness at all."
Though only a short while had passed, the dense, ominous violet smoke had been sucked wholly down that muzzle — and the courtyard began to come back into view.
"Khh... heh... hehehehe..."
Along with a sound that could not have been more sinister.
I can win.
The thought flashed through Allen's mind on pure instinct. He didn't know how he had gotten back to his feet. He didn't know how his mind was still holding together. But one thing he knew with absolute certainty: as he was now, he could beat the bastard in front of him.
Slowly, he reached down and closed his hand around the sword he had dropped.
'...Do you need power?'
He had braced himself for this from the moment that voice first echoed within him. He had known it was a demon's temptation. He had known that if he followed those words, his life would never end well. And still, he had cried out to that voice with everything he had. I need power. Power strong enough that no one — no one — can ever defeat me.
'...Ha. And here I was, so certain I would never end up like this.'
He had recited the knight's creed more times than he could count, and that had filled him with certainty. He had overestimated himself. I will never fall to the demon's path. I will never lend a demon's words my ear, never let them take root. He had truly believed it.
But as it always had been, a demon's temptation carried a sweetness to match — and he, it seemed, had never been remarkable enough to overcome it.
"...Brother?"
"A... Allen... you..."
Bewilderment flooded the bastard's eyes. Shock at the sight of me, no doubt. And fair enough — look at me however you liked, what stood there now was not the shape of a human being. My fingers were sheathed entirely in lumps of violet stone. Red bone jutted through the armor at my shoulders. And my hair, which had swayed with every movement, had stiffened without my noticing, hardening into crystal.
A figure that suited a monster far better than a knight, wherever you looked. And yet it didn't bother me. No — it couldn't bother me.
Wasn't that a marvel? A head stuffed to bursting with stray thoughts and resentment toward that bastard had turned this clean, this refreshingly clear, only once I became a monster. It felt damn good, honestly.
So what if this form was hideous beyond words? I could beat him now. Beat him again.
I didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to know. Didn't want to accept that he had become a Majin — didn't want to know what the process of becoming one even looked like — didn't even want to know that he had hated me all this time.
"...."
"What are you standing there gaping for, Jenison..."
"...."
"Pick up your sword."
FWOOOONG—
The sword in his hand danced toward me. Rougher than before, pared down to something far simpler — his swordwork had become something else entirely. Gone was the blade that had come at me spilling passion and obsession; in its place, a point filled with nothing but the will to crush me. And it was aimed at me now.
"Pick up. Your sword."
"Why...? Why?"
"Want to ask why I'd go this far?"
"...."
"Because I couldn't stand you."
"...."
"Because I refused to believe you were better than me."
"...."
"Because the sight of your sword dance that day still hasn't left my head."
"What..."
"Hard to understand? Then don't. It's all excuses anyway — the truth is I just couldn't stand you."
"...."
"Does that answer your question? I sincerely hope so."
"...."
"Your sword... I don't suppose I need to tell you to pick it up?"
"...."
"You'll be picking it up soon enough either way."
He readjusted his grip on the sword. Not with one hand — with two. The blade rose above his shoulder, both feet planted hard against the ground, his face and body turned toward me and me alone.
At some point, his stance had shifted into something like a sprinter's crouch—
Reinhardt Style Heavy Swordsmanship
Form 1: Great Mountain Slash
And then, at last, blood spattered savagely across the ground.