The Long Vacation - Hard Mode - (7)
Against Ligret's Ice-White Cross Spear, what Dube drew was a red staff formed from a writhing mass of blood. White and red, the two trajectories stabbed, sliced, and hammered at each other, each one aiming for the throat. Dube's technique was extremely stable, faithful to the fundamentals, and balanced attack and defense perfectly. In other words, that was all there was to it.
"Kh!"
Every time spear and staff collided, Dube's body was driven backward. Ligret's spearmanship was truly arcane. It traced bizarre arcs as if no formal style existed, only to snap into perfect textbook precision the next instant. It seemed to prize speed and power, striking vital points in a flash, then suddenly shifted to heavy, flowing pressure that crushed down like a tide.
The brief moment they had appeared evenly matched was only the first few exchanges. Dube grew increasingly desperate on defense while Ligret's assault only gained momentum. It was only natural. No matter how much he relied on tricks, ambushes, and ring-outs, the fact that the man called Dube had lost to Chrome in a head-on fight could not be erased. And that meant, the moment they clashed weapons directly like this, Dube had never stood a chance.
In the blink of an eye his right foot was crushed. In the space of a breath his left arm was severed halfway and a hole punched through his gut. Wounds that would have left any normal human combat-incapacitated.
"It's useless!"
But Dube paid them no mind. Each time the red fluid seeping from the tower wrapped around him, the injuries healed as if they had never existed. His balanced style of attack and defense had already transformed into something that willingly sacrificed his own bones to carve the opponent's flesh, yet it didn't matter. It would all recover anyway.
The regeneration did not erase the pain, but to Dube, lost in ecstatic frenzy, such trivial agony was beneath notice.
"I've already fought someone whose specialty was regeneration."
Ligret, too, paid it no mind. The arm she had severed regenerated without issue. She cut again. She pierced his heart, yet the counterattack came as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She stabbed once more. Even after crushing both legs he rose like a weighted doll. This time she severed all four limbs. They regenerated. She cut again.
"Can't you hear me saying it's useless? You're just wasting your effort!"
It regenerated. She cut.
"As long as the power taken from the sacrifices isn't exhausted, the regeneration will never stop! Your pathetic martial skill means nothing!"
It regenerated. She cut.
"You— this— bitch— just— stop—"
At some point Dube could no longer launch any attacks at all. No matter how quickly the wounds closed, the cold that had seeped into his very marrow refused to vanish. Even if pain had been dulled and madness had taken hold, no human could remain unmoved while their entire body was being carved to pieces.
She cut, stabbed, kicked, crushed, trampled, shattered— attack upon attack, killing blow upon killing blow.
The regeneration had not ceased. The lives they had plundered continued pouring into Dube without end at this very moment, bestowing their twisted blessing. Yet the speed at which Ligret's assault whittled his body away far outstripped that endless recovery, and the pace was only accelerating.
"You biiitch!"
With one eye frozen solid by the cold and the other bulging wide, Dube screamed through a throat where part of his vocal cords had been torn away. The cry was an outburst of rage, but it was also a deliberate performance to hide his final trump card while he endured a one-sided beating.
Magic spells fell into two categories: standard and special. The former was stable and offered high potential for growth. The latter tended to be complex, unstable, and inefficient. Yet on rare occasions, some proved overwhelmingly powerful. The spell Dube possessed was one of those.
Near Dube's body, at a single point in the air, a massive volume of air began to gather. The sphere, woven from vast magical power and wind, contained a shockingly violent force, yet it remained utterly silent and stealthy.
Even as he writhed in the agony of his body being torn apart, Dube inwardly smiled at the fact that the unbeliever before him showed no sign of caution whatsoever. It was a technique that had taken even Riven Bain—one of the championship favorites alongside Mars's representative knight, Daniel Richter—by complete surprise and ended him in a single strike.
The assassination spell, said to have been created long ago by a mage to protect a forest from a tyrannical king, was that powerful.
Its only flaw was the long casting time. That was why he had been unable to respond quickly when his opponent burst through the window in a surprise attack and forced him into this sorry state. But that weakness ended now.
Like a bowstring drawn to its absolute limit, the spell awaiting release trembled with anticipation.
"Diiie!"
Dube lunged forward as if to engulf Ligret with his entire body. The seemingly insane charge was meant to draw attention away from the true strike that would accompany it. And at last, the special spell was released.
A massive hole tore open in the center of the brown-haired girl's chest.
Or it would have, had the girl not casually twisted her body sideways and evaded the attack.
The spell that lost its target proved its power by blasting a gaping hole through the tower's outer wall, but the demonstration felt hollow now.
For a moment Dube forgot he was even in combat. He stared blankly and muttered.
"How...?"
Ligret answered briefly. She was not responding to his question, merely voicing her own impression.
"You're so half-assed."
To possess such outstanding regenerative ability yet have such pathetic combat skills to make use of it. To favor wild frontal assaults while keeping a trump card designed for stealthy assassination. To radiate arrogance and madness while looking down on one's opponent, yet remain only half-crazed and use one's head in such a mediocre way. Everything about him was half-assed.
Dube did not understand the single phrase that summed him up perfectly.
"What nonsense is that?! How could you possibly have seen through that surprise—"
In truth, Ligret had no intention of explaining. There was no need to spell out that she had deliberately used the Ice-White Cross Spear not only to slow his movements but to scatter cold energy that would warn her of invisible attacks. Above all, now that she had confirmed the nature of his trump card, she no longer had any reason to hesitate using her own.
Shunk.
"Urashaa!"
"Just fall down already!"
The blood-mass spearman, sliced from both sides by Crow's twin blades and Akasha's greatsword, thrust his weapon forward with only the right side of his torso and head remaining. Chrome, wearing an expression of pure annoyance, didn't even bother throwing an attribute stone. He simply kicked the creature hard. Only then did it stop regenerating and dissolve into liquid that splattered across the floor.
Crow shrugged.
"After throwing so many at us, they've finally run out of numbers?"
"Don't let your guard down. The support won't end yet. I'd say about half are still left."
Akasha asked Fiore with open disbelief.
"Didn't your brother keep fighting these things the whole way here before we even reached the tower? I don't think even a military unit carries supplies in those kinds of quantities."
"That's something only my brother knows. Anyway, everyone needs healing first."
Fiore released her white light mana while Chrome pulled out potions and poured them freely. The numerous wounds covering the party closed in an instant.
Chrome asked, "How much mana does everyone have left?"
"About forty percent."
"You use Red Light and your base mana capacity is pretty high. Why is it that low?"
"Shut up. Mana discharge for movement and aerial maneuvers eats more than you think. You do realize that if I hadn't used it earlier, we would've been in real danger when I launched Ligret upward and fell, right?"
"Tsk. Can't be helped, then."
Akasha and Fiore answered in turn.
"Sorry, I've only got about twenty percent left."
"I still have roughly half, brother."
Akasha fought using physical reinforcement, self-healing, and mana shields all at once, so her consumption was intense. Fiore had to maintain enhancements for both herself and Chrome, yet thanks to everything she had consumed during her time at the academy, she still had some breathing room.
Crow turned to Chrome. "What about you?"
"Eighty percent."
"...Then why didn't you just use White Light?"
"If I had, the attribute stones in my bag would've been exhausted long ago. Do you think the mana used to create them just appears out of thin air? The market isn't overflowing with them, and I can't simply buy enough to replenish everything."
"Don't they just run on mana from magic stones?"
"That's the power source for activating the spell formula. The engraving process is separate."
It was an ironic situation—his mana was constantly depleted during daily life, yet he had plenty to spare in battle.
"Anyway, let's hurry up and move. These things have already cost us several more minutes. No one's tired, right?"
"Ha, who would get tired from something this trivial? Still, judging by the situation, it looks like similar creatures will keep appearing while we climb the stairs. What do you plan to do about that?"
"As long as they aren't at the level where having them at our backs feels dangerous, we'll just shove them aside and ignore them while we ascend..."
Rumble rumble rumble!
A massive sound suddenly cut off their conversation. The party once again thought of an earthquake, but that was not the cause this time.
"...What the hell did Ligret do?"
The tower was trembling.