A Promise Kept
Beyond the fluttering, shapeless cape, a lone figure stood with his back turned — blocking the path of the Inquisitor General, Rate.
"Run. I'll take him from here."
Simon...!
Loraine's pupils trembled, while Serne swept her hair back with a knowing smile.
KA-GA-GA-GAGAK!
The greatsword and the cross ground against each other in a tense tug-of-war, neither side yielding an inch, sparks scattering in all directions. Rate thrust his head out from behind the cross.
"Well, what do we have here."
The corners of his mouth curled up with unrestrained satisfaction.
"An Ancient Undead, appearing out of nowhere? And just who might you be."
Simon didn't answer. He only shouted.
"Go!"
Loraine flinched.
Serne narrowed her eyes, studying Simon for a long moment — then broke into a soft smile.
"Then we'll leave him to you. Let's go."
"No! We should fight alongside—"
Loraine started toward Simon, but Serne seized her arm roughly and pulled her close, whispering in her ear.
He seems to have a plan. If we stay here, we'll only be in his way.
......
Loraine bit down hard on her lip. In the end, all she could force out was a single, ragged sentence.
"Come back alive. You promised."
The two of them turned and ran, Serne unfurling a veil of illusion magic behind them, warping the surroundings so no one could track their retreat.
Care or not, Rate now had eyes only for Simon.
"Stalling for time on your own, are we?"
He stepped back, channeling force into the cross to fling Simon's greatsword aside. The two men faced each other across a few paces of scorched ground.
"Predictable. Utterly predictable — and yet, why is this so interesting?"
Rate glanced down at his own right hand.
Ever since that first clash of blades, his wrist hadn't stopped trembling. It had been a truly remarkable strike.
"That energy. That scent. And he commands an Ancient Undead on top of it all. Yes... yes."
Rate's eyes shimmered.
"You're the next 'Legion Commander of Betrayal' — the one who set the whole Dark Alliance abuzz."
[......]
He spread his palm toward Simon.
"I've heard you've suffered humiliation over affairs long past that had nothing to do with you. Better yet — become the hound of our Federation. Then help me tear the Alliance down. Do so, and I shall extend you my mercy and spare your miserable life."
It was nonsense not worth answering, so Simon kept his mouth shut.
When Simon maintained his silence, Rate lazily scratched above his eye with a fingertip.
"That was my pre-battle joke. Shame it wasn't funny."
FWOOSH!
Rate, who had been calmly scratching his eye, came hurtling forward with no wind-up whatsoever. Simon hastily thrust the Greatsword of Ruin up in front of him.
Cross met greatsword once more, and a colossal detonation of sound erupted.
KAAAANG!
CHAEEENG!
KWAAAAAANG!
With every successive collision, the ground around them heaved and overturned as if a bomb had gone off beneath it, clouds of dirt and dust blossoming into the air.
"What is this?"
The expression of Rate, swinging his cross, twisted sharply.
"That magnificent strike you showed when you saved that woman in the beginning — where has it gone!"
KANG!
TSEEEONG!
KAAAAAAAANG!
Afterimages bloomed along Rate's body as he accelerated to an unnatural speed, hammering the Greatsword of Ruin down again and again with his cross.
Simon took the onslaught with every ounce of strength he'd been born with, but he kept being driven backward. His knees wobbled as if they might buckle at any moment, and wounds began to open in places where the Bone Armor had been pierced through.
"If this is all you have, then letting those big names go just to fight you was hardly worth my while!"
Hurling the Greatsword of Ruin aside, Rate drove a kick into Simon's chest. The Bone Armor was still protecting him, but the impact was like being rammed by a runaway carriage — Simon staggered and stumbled back several steps.
"My interest is fading."
Rate's eyes, gone cold and flat, flicked once over Simon's shoulder — toward the direction Loraine and Serne had fled.
"If I chase those women down now—"
SHWAAAAAK!
A blade without warning punched through his perception, erupting from beneath his chin at a terrifying speed. Rate jerked his head back in genuine surprise to evade it.
The faint gooseflesh rising on his skin made the corners of his mouth dance.
"Now that's more like it!"
KWAAAAAAANG!
The two weapons collided furiously once more.
This time, Simon wasn't pushed back. Gritting his teeth, he swung the greatsword in a relentless flurry.
"Now I understand how you work! That remarkable strike of yours only comes out when you're trying to protect someone!"
Rate's right hand clenched tight as he traded furious blows with Simon.
"Raise your tempo! Try to keep me from going after those women!"
Rate advanced, his hand moving like a madman.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
After a rapid, staccato barrage against Simon's greatsword, he spun his whole body and brought the cross around in a sweeping arc. Simon barely caught the attack and was flung backward.
But the instant he was knocked away, Simon drove the greatsword into the ground, hurled himself forward with all his strength, and flung the blade back up.
KWAKWAKWAKWAKWAKWA!
A mountain of slashes erupted and crashed into Rate's body. Yet Rate didn't even bother to block — he simply walked straight through the barrage, taking it head-on.
"Still waiting for something, are you? More! Show me more of your full power!"
Simon lowered the greatsword and shifted his stance.
Suddenly, a zombie's arm burst out of the ground beneath Rate's feet and clamped onto him. When Rate glanced down, a small zombie in the shape of a boy was grinning up at him, drenched head to toe in blood.
'Corpse—'
Every magic circle attached to the boy's body rose into the air at once.
Simon's fist clenched hard.
'—Explosion!'
A blinding flash beyond his fist swallowed the horizon whole, and a shrieking roar obliterated every other sound in an instant. A heartbeat later, Simon's body was hurled away as if flung by the blast itself.
He could see the surrounding trees torn up root and branch, tumbling through the air. After flying a long while, Simon grabbed a nearby boulder to arrest his momentum, then collapsed face-down.
"Watch yourself, Boy!"
Pier shifted his form, spreading wide across Simon's back to shield it.
KUGUGUGUGUGU—
Time passed. As the explosion passed its critical point and died down, Simon lifted his head, drenched in sweat. A colossal mushroom cloud was rising into the sky.
This wasn't what I'd intended.
Prince's Corpse Explosion — his trump card.
And it had been so devastatingly powerful that it hadn't just engulfed Rate — it had vaporized the museum nearby without a trace.
Simon dragged himself upright, and Pier reformed back into the Bone Armor, refitted to Simon's frame.
That said...
Simon wiped his mouth and stared dead ahead.
How in the world is he still alive?
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—!
Beneath the mushroom cloud.
Amid the pillar of eruption and smoke, the searing vapor and churning jet-black energy, a pair of human eyes flashed — glaring straight back at him.
And then the man began to walk out of the explosion, step by slow step. His skin had been stripped away entirely by the heat; it was as if a mass of raw red muscle were walking upright.
"You—"
Rate grinned as he emerged from the blast. Hideously, his mouth pulled wide, baring every last molar down to the gums — stretching into a smile like spoiled cheese.
"You are the finest."
SQUELCH—
CRUNCH—
The wisdom teeth and gums vanished back beneath regrown flesh. The skin was regenerating at astonishing speed, restoring his original face.
As Rate trudged forward, dragging the cross behind him, strength steadily returned to his frame.
"When was the last time anything delighted me so! For the first time in ages, I feel myself breathe — feel myself alive! Life is struggle, and struggle is pleasure!"
He raised the cross slowly overhead.
"How can I not give thanks to the Goddess — who has granted me something worth striking down!"
KWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!
An ocean of divinity began erupting from his body, vast beyond measure.
Cold sweat broke out across Simon's skin.
Just what part of that is a priest who serves a god?
"Khekhek! Nothing in this world is more dreadful than a warped faith. But more importantly — what now, Boy?"
Simon had assumed that feeding Rate the Corpse Explosion would settle things one way or another, but Rate was a monster beyond anything he'd imagined.
There was a reason Loraine and Serne had been tearing their hair out over this man. No matter what attack landed, Rate would get back up.
In that case...
Divinity was overflowing from him, but Rate's body — once shattered by the blast — would still need time to fully recover.
And I just flew in the opposite direction from the explosion myself.
Beyond Rate's back, Loraine and Serne were fleeing.
If he turned his back now and the man went after those two, it would be a disaster. Simon raised the hand wearing Prince's ring to his lips and murmured a single small word.
"Come on, then! Keep coming! Legion Commander of Betrayal!"
Rate charged, dragging the cross along the ground. Simon calmly threw open a hyper-sized sub-space.
One of the Legion Commander's techniques he had once learned from Jane, the Grand Duke of the North.
A technique that launched multiple Legion-type Undead from sub-space at once, forming immediate tactics and battle formations.
All units — charge!
URURURURURURU!
Dozens of zombies came pouring out of the hyper-sized sub-space and hurled themselves at Rate.
"Zombies, of all things, at a time like this. I suppose you've got something else cooked up, don't you?"
Rate swung the cross while limping on the leg whose muscle hadn't yet regenerated. Zombies were cleaved apart in chunks, spraying blood in every direction.
The bisected zombies tried to grab Rate's ankles, but their strength gave out almost immediately and they slumped to the ground.
And then—
KURURURURUNG!
A black bolt of lightning fell from the sky, and one of the zombies clutching at Rate transformed into Prince.
"Gotcha!"
Prince clamped down hard on Rate's leg — and Simon's fist closed.
KEEEEEEING!
Prince's body flashed with jet-black light once more. Rate's eyes dropped. The same prelude to detonation as before.
Remarkable. He can unleash an explosion of that scale a second time?
And that wasn't all.
With the hand opposite the clenched fist, Simon shouldered the greatsword, bent his knees, and dropped low. An immense tide of jet-black was pouring off Simon and Pier both.
Anyone could see it — the stance of a charging strike.
He detonates the explosion, then dives in to take my head. That's the scheme, is it?
To Rate, Simon — Legion Commander of the 7th — was an unknown enemy, a blank slate of a foe. All he could do was reason from the moment itself.
Can the Legion Commander trigger that explosion a second time?
If he can, will the blast spare himself from harm?
Or does he intend to charge through regardless, injury be damned?
Whatever the case.
Rate adjusted his grip on the cross.
Whether or not he can use that explosion again — one more blow from me settles it. Eyes only on him.
Simon kicked off the ground and charged. Prince's body vented savage jet-black light as it readied itself to blow.
Rate fixed his gaze on Simon and swung the cross—
'!'
It was only then, too late, that Rate understood.
Simon wasn't looking at him at all.
Through the slit of Pier's helm, Rate saw Simon's pupils reflecting past him — toward the girls who had fled a long, long way from this place.
Don't tell me—!
Rate hastily re-gripped and swung the cross — and in that same instant, Simon shot forward trailing a ribbon of black, passing clean through Rate's body.
⟨ Legion Technique — Leap ⟩
WHOOOOOOOSH!
A colossal gale erupted around the two men as they crossed paths.
Pitter-patter.
Rate touched a fingertip to the warm, sticky blood smeared across his cheek.
Simon was gone without a trace.
Even his scent, even his presence — severed entirely.
He had simply vanished, as if he had never existed in that spot at all.
Did he leap through space itself?
Rate lowered his head.
Prince — standing with his middle finger raised — was darkening by degrees, reverting to an ordinary zombie.
Rate ground his teeth and crushed the zombie's skull in his fist.
"So I took one hit. Fine."
Loraine and Serne were running flat-out, cleaving through the wind.
Far in the distance, the last chimera carrying the students was visible in flight.
"We've nearly caught up. The border's just ahead."
Serne, gliding atop her feathers, stole a glance back at Loraine.
Loraine, even as she ran, kept turning to look behind her, her face etched with worry.
A massive explosion — then a gray cloud of smoke billowing after it.
She couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of battle was raging back there.
"Worried about him?"
Serne asked bluntly.
"Aren't you worried too?"
Loraine shot back, her voice sharp with displeasure.
"Of course not. I trust Simon completely. You, it seems, are still underestimating him."
Serne shrugged.
"It's not that I can't trust Simon. I merely wonder if his vessel is large enough to hold what it means to lead an entire organization."
"What's wrong with worrying about a friend?"
"Oh my. And why, I wonder, is that anger of yours pointed this way?"
The playfulness drained from Serne's face in an instant, and her reply came back icy. She too lacked the leisure to act her usual sly self.
"If you've realized your own shortcomings, then go berate yourself for them. Don't pick fights with me."
"Which of us is picking a fight!"
"See? You're yelling at me right now."
The two of them, like water and oil that could never mix, snarled at each other as they flew.
Then, mid-stride, Loraine stopped dead.
"Simon."
She turned her head to look back. Nothing but a desolate, empty plain.
"? What are you doing? We have to catch up to the chimera."
Loraine halted completely and turned all the way around.
"Simon's coming."
At those words, Serne ended her flight and descended to the ground. Before long, the air around them began to warp. Loraine slowly spread both arms wide.
KWACHACHACHA—!
The empty air shattered like a pane of glass, and Simon tumbled out, limp and crumpled. His pupils were fixed on the faces of Loraine and Serne.
"Simon!"
Loraine spread her arms and caught his hurtling body, her feet skidding backward across the ground.
Only after they'd been driven a long way back did Simon's momentum finally bleed away. With trembling hands, Loraine took hold of his half-torn helmet and lifted it.
"Ah."
A boy with blue-black hair was gasping for breath, his face fever-hot and flushed. Loraine pulled him into a tight embrace, her eyes brimming.
"Thank you. For keeping your promise."
The wind blew slowly past.
While the two of them clung to each other like that, their feet lifted gently off the ground.
"The tearful reunion can wait — we need to hurry."
Serne gestured with a wave of her hand. Somewhere along the way, feathers had attached themselves to all three of them.
"The border barrier is closing. If we don't get out now, we'll be surrounded by the army."
She fluttered her fingers, and the feathers whirred to life, propelling the three of them swiftly forward.
FWOOOOOOOOM—!
Their bodies shot forth like bullets, streaking toward the chimera still flying ahead of them, just shy of the border barrier.
"Oh, and~"
Tap.
Serne slipped in sideways, shoulder-checking Loraine out of the way, and wrapped her arms around Simon.
"Now that I look closely — just whose arms have you been cozying up in this whole time?"
Loraine gave a reaction that suggested she couldn't even be bothered to be angry, quietly raising her clenched fist.
"This settles it."
"......?"
Serne's brow furrowed.
"And what exactly is that?"
Inside the third chimera.
There, a single instructor and the students lay sprawled alongside the wounded Grelion and his assistants.
Someone — no one knew who — had sent a winged summon to carry Grelion's group in and stow them inside the chimera. The other students milled about anxiously, at a loss for what to do.
Then the chimera's jaws yawned open wide.
"The entrance is opening!"
"Who's coming now?"
At the news, Toto — slumped in worry over Simon — snapped his head up and was the first to sprint over. The other students crowded after him to the entrance to greet whoever was arriving.
FWOOOOOM!
Along with a violent rush of wind, someone was coming toward them.
"Here she comes!"
"Get against the walls!"
FWOOOOSH—!
Every mouth in the chimera fell open.
A girl swept in, black hair streaming behind her. She'd slid the last stretch on both legs, and cradled in her arms — tucked in with perfect docility — was Simon.
She turned to the instructor and reported.
"Defense squad, three members — all personnel accounted for."
WAAAAAAAH!
The moment they saw the sight, a thunderous cheer erupted. Everyone jumped and shouted for joy, and Toto came running through a flood of tears and snot, throwing himself at the two of them.
Serne trailed in after them and, with lingering relish, clacked her outstretched palm shut and lowered it.
"Never again."