Second Preliminary Round (7)

The two of them stabbed at each other with desperate ferocity.

Both faces twisted in agony, yet neither arm stopped moving.

The more visually brutal details had been filtered out, but the crimson stains still hinted at the savagery of the wounds.

Nearly every pro gamer set their pain sensitivity high. It cut down the time spent checking the interface — how bad the injury was, whether the bleeding was severe. In the heat of a frantic fight, the sensation carved into the body was far faster than anything a screen could tell you.

Most started at twenty percent and nudged the setting upward until they found their personal sweet spot. But every advantage came with a cost. Above twenty percent, a well-placed stab delivered genuine, considerable pain. In pro matches, deliberately inflicting that pain on an opponent was a recognized tactic.

Assassins of this caliber would have mastered the technique long ago.

"How desperate," Luce murmured.

It was exactly that. The match had already ended in Gawol's victory, but even a glance made clear the pain had been no small thing. The fine tremor in Gawol's right hand alone told Luce everything she needed to know.

A reaction far more intense than expected. Perhaps Gawol had always been someone with unusually sharp senses. In that case, it must have hurt beyond description.

And yet, through that pain, Gawol wore a look of pure relief.

People like that, Luce thought, came in only two varieties. One was the kind so desperately, wretchedly hungry for victory it bordered on obsession. The other was simply mad.

Luce's heart leaned toward the former.

Because the battlefield was the same, the early game unfolded along similar lines — a scouting war to locate the opponent first. The difference, if any, was the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠new card Haruka had brought to the table.

Along the path the kunoichi had taken, razor-thin threads had been strung. The common secondary weapon of assassin-class characters: Silver Thread.

Around the time the fifth Silver Thread went up, Gawol scaled a pillar, kicked off hard, and launched her opening strike. A clean ambush, no wasted motion — just like always.

But spotting the Silver Thread a beat too late proved costly. Dodging in haste threw her attack trajectory wildly off course. The dagger that had aimed for a vital point skimmed past the thigh by a hair's breadth.

The kunoichi's fishnet stockings tore and blood sprayed, but that was all. Hardly a satisfying trade.

The kunoichi, by contrast, had bought herself the time she needed to form her hand seals.

Violet flames swept over the assassin's body. She burst free of the fire almost immediately — only for a predator's fangs to wait where she thought her escape route lay. The kunoichi drove a kunai into her abdomen as if she had been waiting for exactly this.

Soft flesh tore, and a tingling sensation should have raced up the wrist—

—but nothing came.

Haruka's eyes flooded with shock as the body her blade had touched scattered like smoke.

A clone? At this timing? Then where is the real one?

The unanswered question found its answer almost at once. From within the flames that had yet to die, a gloved hand shot out, seized Haruka's ankle, and drove a dagger home.

She hastily formed seals and swapped places with a log, but the wound she had already taken did not vanish with her.

At some point, a bright smile had settled on Luce's lips. A childlike exclamation tumbled out of her.

"Did you see that? That was such a dangerous gamble — how did she even think of it in that split second? I would have fallen for it too!"

The duel of crossed blades refused to end easily.

Gawol kicked off throwing weapons lodged in the wall and slipped past the flames. Fire shaped like a dragon dogged her relentlessly, but her speed was hard to track even by eye — catching her was out of the question. The compact assassin rode the weapons embedded in the walls, sprang from pillars, kicked off the ceiling, and came hurtling down.

Dagger and kunai clashed at a precarious angle. For a moment they twisted each other's wrists, hunting for the forearm — and then Gawol's left shoulder opened into a gap.

It lasted only a fraction of a second. For Haruka, that was more than enough.

Hand seals formed with mechanical precision. The weapon came down in a swift plunge.

Haruka, about to tear open her enemy's shoulder, froze mid-motion.

The weapon did make contact — but only enough to leave the shallowest of cuts. Any deeper, and it would have been Haruka's own wrist that came off.

Blood ran down and soaked the Silver Thread. She had no memory of placing any here. Which meant the culprit was obvious.

Several strands that had clearly been hers were now tangled around Gawol's dagger. She must have been snatching thread bit by bit throughout the engagement. Assassins could handle Silver Thread just as well, after all.

How much exactly had been taken, though, Haruka never got the chance to see — because a vicious kick slammed into her solar plexus.

It happened in a blink. While Haruka formed her seals, three stab wounds opened along her side. A message blared a warning that a lethal bleeding toxin had been applied.

At this rate, she could end up in the same miserable state as before. She could not afford to throw away the marks she had so carefully gathered. She needed a chance to turn this around.

From the start, the Silver Thread had been a means of protecting herself while she collected her marks. There was no reason to hold any back now.

Haruka yanked every last strand taut, barricading the space in front of Gawol. Faced with that storm of razor wire, even Gawol had to give ground.

In that opening, the finishing play was set in motion.

All four marks complete. Unlike before, there was no immediate way to interrupt it.

What was coming was coming.

The moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the assassin dropped low into a defensive crouch, the kunoichi's form blurred.

Kaaang—! Two blades crashed together with a piercing shriek.

Three sword strikes, delivered exactly where she wanted, exactly when she wanted. Gawol barely managed to block the first — and already her wrist was throbbing. The incomplete defense had cost her roughly ten percent of her health. Factor in the burns she had endured early on and the attrition of the entire engagement, and the situation left little room to breathe.

The remaining two strikes alone might flip the match.

Now it was Gawol's turn to use the Silver Thread she had reclaimed. She planted herself in front of a pillar so nothing could get behind her, then dumped a mass of thread across her flanks to seal them off. That left only the front.

Haruka ran the numbers. The dagger's position covered neck and heart — a clear resolve never to expose a vital point. Given the skill she had shown so far, Gawol would have more than enough time to react.

So maybe take a slightly different angle.

The decision was made. The second Killing Dance arrived in front of Gawol in an instant. The crescent-moon arc of the blade sought to ruin the assassin's left arm — to take it completely out of commission. But that nightmare reaction speed caught her again. It caused significant bleeding, yet the arm still looked functional.

"She can react to that? I didn't think that skill was designed to be seen and dodged…"

An incredulous voice rose from outside the battlefield. Meanwhile, Haruka's mind was running colder and sharper than at any point in the match.

Her gaze would be pulled left now, to defend the ruined side. The standard call was to press the attack without pause. Use the third Killing Dance right here, and she could drive her opponent to the brink.

But then what?

The enemy could still move just fine. Haruka had spent everything she had, while the assassin almost certainly still held plenty of useful cards. When you seize the advantage, you finish it in one stroke.

One more feint. One place left: the sky.

And so, the moment the third Killing Dance came plummeting from above—

The casters, Luce included, went wide-eyed.

When the collective shock faded, what remained was the kunoichi bound fast in Silver Thread. Her thrashing attempts to free herself broadcast live to every viewer. The wire had dulled somewhat from being reclaimed once already, but its living edge still tore through the kunoichi's clothes and left wounds wherever it touched.

Gawol grinned and drew her dagger toward herself. Haruka's body was hauled upward in a long, helpless slide.

"Back when she first showed the Silver Thread! The amount she recovered during the fight was too little for how long they were engaged. Which means the thread she'd already reclaimed before that—!"

A look of utter desolation. The more the bound body struggled, the deeper the threads bit.

That settled the match. All that remained was the victor's execution.

Gawol looked up at her from below, smiling brilliantly.

She could see her.

From Gawol's point of view—

"Rabbit?"

"Eek!"