Apostle of the Evil God (3)
After sprinting blindly until her foot caught on nothing and sent her sprawling, Joy pushed herself up with a stagger — and her eyes fell on the mask lying on the ground before her.
I have to run.
Otherwise I'll die.
That man in black will kill me.
Joy had no idea who the masked figure was. She understood only one thing: he was dangerous.
She was still a student, learning the ropes — but she was a mage all the same. She could at least guess what another person's magic entailed. And by her measure, the magic that man wielded was overwhelming beyond reason.
The spell sealing off the alley and the world around it was of a rank so far above her she couldn't even begin to fathom it, and the black sphere he had tossed out so carelessly carried power that made her wonder whether even her full strength could hope to match it.
That man was a calamity. He was never someone Joy and Lucy could defeat.
So Joy ran. To survive.
Telling herself that Lady Alrn would be fine. That a girl who had somehow scraped through against the Alchemist could surely hold out this time too. That rescue would come from the Academy before long, so there was no problem at all.
Really?
Joy's feet, pointed toward the opposite side of the commotion, stopped dead.
Do you actually think she'll be fine?
The answer was obvious. No. Of course not.
It was an undeniable fact that Lady Alrn was a genius. But even so, she was only a student — the same as Joy. There was no way she could hold her ground against that monster. And Lady Alrn knew it too, better than anyone.
Knowing everything, she had thrown herself into danger all the same, simply wishing for Joy's safety. That was the kind of person she was. However foul the words that spilled from her mouth, no one's heart ran deeper than hers. Whoever the old Lucy Alrn had been, the Lucy Alrn of today was exactly that — and Joy knew it better than anyone.
And yet she had run, telling herself Lucy believed in her, because of her own ugly heart. Because facing an overwhelming power terrified her. Because she couldn't bear to be trapped in another nightmare. Because she was afraid to die.
She had abandoned the very person who saved her.
What good is a savior? What good is gratitude?
While Lucy Alrn stood her ground and pushed forward, hadn't Joy just been circling the same spot — running backward, no less?
Joy stared down at the mask on the ground for a long moment, then turned on her heel without touching it.
Would it help if I went? No, of course not.
Would one more ant threaten a human, when one ant wasn't a threat to begin with?
Is Lady Alrn still holding on? I don't know.
But Joy was certain of one thing — Lucy Alrn would not come out of this unscathed. The opponent was a monster. Even if he fought at half strength, how could Lucy possibly endure?
Am I too late?
More likely than not. Maybe she was just running toward a bigger pool of blood.
Even so, Joy ran — in the exact opposite direction from which she'd fled.
And at the end of it, what Joy found was Lucy, still standing on two legs.
Hair matted into a ruined mess with the blood streaming down from her head. A face caked in gore. Clothes barely holding their shape, and a body bearing more wounds than unbroken skin. Even standing should have looked like a miracle — and yet Lucy still wore that infuriating grin.
Can't you feel pain?
Do you not know the word 'fear'?
Have you lived so long you've forgotten what death means?
Why are you standing?
How are you standing?
What is it that keeps you on your feet?
"Persistent, aren't you."
The masked man frowned and raised a hand, and above his palm a magic circle began to draw itself. Even now Joy couldn't begin to guess what that spell was — the gap between him and her was simply too vast. But she understood this much: it was dangerous.
Can Lady Alrn withstand it?
The shield woven from divinity had gone faint. The arm gripping the mace trembled. Even keeping her eyes open looked like an uphill battle.
She can't.
Joy didn't think. She acted — casting the spell exactly as she had drilled it, desperately, after that last brush with death.
Fireball.
Elementary, primitive — and precisely for that reason, devastating.
Joy fired and did not expect the spell to land. A man casting magic that transcendent would obviously defend himself. She only hoped her magic might fray his concentration, even a little — that through it, a single opening might open for Lady Alrn.
That was why she cast.
But her prediction missed the mark entirely.
The fireball she'd assumed would be swatted aside crashed, absurdly, dead onto the man's face — and the spell he had been preparing scattered into nothing.
At the sight, Lady Alrn turned her head, and Joy forced a smile onto her face.
"Y-you're... nothing but a pathetic scrub of an opponent!"
Joy. Seriously, you should never take up acting. Your voice is shaking like a leaf.
Ha. Honestly. Why did you even come back? I'm out here doing my whole ass-busting routine to save your one life, and this is what you give me. What, are you gunning for the role of Useless Heroine now? Or did you want to wreck my plan just so I'd curse you out?
Getting a brand-new attribute added to Airhead Lady's character sheet is a bit much, though.
<That child just bought you a little more time.>
'Yeah, I know.'
But it was true that Joy had bought me a moment's breathing room. Until then I hadn't had the luxury of even joking to myself like this. Getting hammered, sent flying, skin searing off, holes punched through me.
Whew. Can't believe I'm still standing, honestly.
I'll never forgive that useless, incompetent, trash-tier scrub of a god — but the skills bearing His name, I have to give credit where it's due. Without Mercy of Armadi, I'd have been face-down on the pavement ages ago.
"Ha."
As the smoke from Joy's spell thinned, I could see where Nakrad's red eyes were pointed. Squarely at Joy.
"So you've come to me of your own two feet."
Nope. Absolutely not. Where do you think you're looking? Joy's a catch, sure, but she's still a student, you chuuni pedophile bastard. What is this world, some game with a disclaimer that 'all characters are adults'? Do you think that line is printed somewhere?
"Couldn't bring her to heel with your own power, could you?♡ How pathetic♡ A scrub who worships a scrub evil god — what else would you expect♡"
Even without going all out, my Mesugaki taunts right now were enough to make even Karl struggle to keep his composure. Against Nakrad, who had already flown completely off the handle, there was no need to even ask how effective they'd be.
"Filthy trash."
Watching Nakrad lunge for me, I smiled.
Having traded blows with him for a while now, I'd grown used to this fight. "Combat" wasn't really the right word for it — "stalling" was more accurate, but regardless.
The spikes bursting from the shadows — I couldn't block them all. Anything not immediately fatal, I ignored. Every time one punched through my skin the pain felt like it would drive me out of my mind, but it wouldn't kill me.
His lunging physical assaults, I did my best to catch with the shield. My arms were so drained that whether I blocked or not I went flying either way — but even so, eating it through a shield beat eating it raw.
And the black spheres?
What can you do.
I didn't have the strength left to raise a barrier anymore. If I had the mana for that, better to spend it on one more cast of Mercy of Armadi and haul myself up like a zombie.
Still, Joy joining in gave me a sliver of slack. Her spells interrupting Nakrad's movements here and there were surprisingly effective. Nakrad was so fixated on me that he ignored her attacks entirely — taking, point-blank, hits he would normally have dodged or erased without a thought.
Hee-hee. Now that's what you call a tank. Right?
Though for a tank who's supposed to have a satisfying, meaty presence, I do roll around a lot, don't I.
I clutched my trembling legs and hauled myself upright by force. There was no mana left to form a shield now, and I wasn't so much gripping the mace as draping myself over it.
This is why you always want the real, physical shield, kids.
...Ah. Though a real one probably would've shattered by now anyway.
<How many more times can you rise?>
'Twice, maybe?'
Any more than that is asking too much. Honestly, even getting up now is only possible because of Unbreakable Will dragging me upright by the scruff. The limits of my body are right there at my doorstep, and there's nothing I can do about it.
My mind isn't doing much better. I keep pretending not to notice, but the fear is still gnawing at the dam, baring its teeth, waiting to swallow me whole. The moment my body gives out, my mind will collapse right along with it — past the point of no return. I can feel it.
So: twice, if I'm lucky. Otherwise once.
Why is three minutes taking so long?
Every time I've ever done a time attack it's been "ugh, why is three minutes SO short?!" — so what gives? Could that useless, incompetent god be holding time frozen just to torment me? Honestly, coming from Him, it feels entirely plausible. All that buffing and fake urgency was just a smokescreen. Yeah. This actually adds up. If the bastard were really in a hurry, would He have handed out lousy buffs like these?
Just as my suspicion of Armadi was quietly pooling into resentment —
The barrier cocooning the alley cracked, then shattered like a pane of glass, and eyes wrought from Nakrad's mana came raining down from the sky. Beneath them, Nakrad stood staring blankly upward.
Watching the panic crawl across his face, I couldn't resist getting a word in.
"Pathetic little scrub♡"
You were so busy tormenting me you didn't even notice your own barrier shattering? Hmm? Bullying one girl was that much fun? So drunk on your twisted tastes that you couldn't even accomplish your actual goal. What an absolute pervert. Right?
"...So that was your play."
Realizing it now changes nothing.
"No helping it, then."
Nakrad raised his hand, and mana began to converge above his palm. Even I — knowing nothing at all about magic — could feel how overwhelming it was.
"A shame I couldn't break you. But I'll clear away the obstacles on my way out."
One last desperate flourish before you scurry off? Villain bastards really do run on the same script every time.
I cannot block that.
I'd nearly died to the magic this man threw around casually. At my absolute limit, there was no way in hell I could withstand it. In other words, right now I was completely, perfectly game-overed.
By all rights this was a despair-soaked scenario where I should have collapsed to the ground in cold terror. But instead —
"Lady Alrn!"
I'm fine.
"It's fine, Airhead Lady."
I stepped in front of Joy and planted my feet.
I had no intention of saving Joy and dying. I had no intention of both of us dying, either. I am, you see, a human being who utterly despises bad endings. An ending with lingering regret? I'll pass.
"Die."
Watching Nakrad roar the incantation, I felt — of all things — grateful. If he'd decided to snap my neck with his bare hands, I'd have had no choice but to die quietly. But his burning need to show off his power had just handed me a way out. You see that, Nakrad?
The Floor 80 boss of Soul Academy's first-year dungeon opens the fight with an instant-death spell, doesn't he? That's why the cleanest way to take him down has always been the same: nullify it, and send it right back.
I'd already burned my one means of returning the spell. But the means of nullifying it was still clutched firmly in my hand.
I believe in you.
"Trust me."