The Witch's Temptation
The small fist, wreathed in a brilliant corona of light, held a force far too great for its size. An overwhelming pressure. One clean hit from that thing would mean death. Even though this was not her true body, Ailey Suarez felt that terror all the same.
Crunch—
Crunch— Crrrunch—
The fist connected, and the face caved in. No blood sprayed. Only a sickening sound and the shockwave of impact rang out through the surroundings — proof enough that the boy being pulverized right now was not Shiron.
"So it's neither an illusion nor a dream…"
Lucia muttered coldly, glancing down at her own hand.
Not a drop of blood clung to it, not a single scratch marred the skin — as if insisting this whole scene were only a dream. And yet the sensation of something breaking beneath her fist had been vivid enough to argue, just as stubbornly, that this was reality.
"Hah…"
Lucia exhaled a white plume of breath and shook out her hand.
The feel of it still wasn't good. It was less like crushing bone wrapped in flesh and more like slamming down on a meat slab shot through with splintered scraps of bone.
"A golem."
Lucia snorted and muttered the word under her breath.
Innate talent and a lifetime of fighting every kind of enemy had let her pierce the thing's true nature in a single glance.
"The way it just drove its fist in, I figured its head was completely empty. Turns out it's got a few surprises."
"…"
A sound from the ground drew Lucia's gaze downward. The golem lay sprawled spread-eagle, a gurgling chuckle leaking from the crater of its face.
"Crude. Far too crude. Is something wrong with your head, by any chance?"
"What the hell did you just say?"
"What if the face you punched had been your own brother's?"
The golem twisted its crushed features into a grotesque expression.
Intermittent little laughs slipped out of it; Lucia could tell it had been trying to smile.
"An older brother beaten to death by his little sister… doesn't that sound just too pathetic? Hmm? Don't you think?"
"I don't care."
Lucia answered the cheap provocation with a sneer.
"Shiron's tough. A few punches wouldn't cave his face in, and they sure as hell wouldn't kill him."
"…"
"You, on the other hand, seem to be made of something else. Or are you just scared? Judging by the fact you still won't show yourself in front of me."
"…Nonsense."
The flesh-built golem planted trembling hands and feet against the ground and tried to rise.
Far away — no, close by.
Beyond the reverse barrier, Ailey Suarez feigned composure as she tried to work the golem. Nothing went the way she wanted.
Dozens of attempts over a dozen-odd seconds all came to nothing.
What kind of monstrous strength is that? The golem's entire circuit is wrecked.
Ailey clicked her tongue at an opponent who possessed power that simply did not fit.
She decided there was no longer any point in trying to pilot the golem.
With its sunken face contorted, the golem finally managed something like a sneer.
"Little girl. You'd do well not to put on airs."
"Fuck off."
Lucia spat the curse and swept her gaze swiftly through the empty air.
"I'll give you that you didn't have the guts to face me and went scurrying off somewhere. That's the favorite trick of witches who never had any pride to begin with."
That golem was currently the only line of communication with the witch hiding somewhere and watching. In the present situation, completely destroying it would gain her nothing — so Lucia judged.
If that isn't Shiron, then where the hell is he?
She had spoken with affected leisure, but this was no time to stand around trading words.
Something had felt off from the start.
She had raised enough of a racket to make the very ground shake, and still Hugo's knights — who should have been on watch — had not come pouring into the tent.
She's pulled some kind of stunt… but I can't tell what the hell it is.
Lucia had nothing she could do except fight. She had subdued the golem with ease, and that was the end of it. She did not know where Shiron was, and she did not even know what this place truly was.
If she had still had companions the way she once did —
if she had had that slightly irritating mage and a guide she could always rely on —
a pathetic witch like this would have been dead before she could blink.
But this was five hundred years later.
And right now, Lucia was alone.
In a state where she could receive no help of any kind.
"Still, leaving nothing but a golem dressed up in a skin suit is pretty half-assed."
Lucia went with the best card she had left: provocation.
"It's not an illusion and it's not a dream. You probably tried and it didn't take. You're that much weaker than me. Even interfering with my mind was beyond you."
A familiar was weaker than its true body.
That was a universal truth… or so Seira had told her.
"In the end, you're just a coward who picks on kids."
Lucia wanted to make the other side so furious she would come out and kill her on the spot. She wanted the continuous taunts to drive the witch into a rage and force her true body into the open.
"Enough."
But the witch was never going to be that easy.
The voice that came from the twisted face did not tremble and did not rush. If anything, a touch of resignation suited it better.
"I'm done."
"What?"
"I never had any business with you to begin with."
"W-wait—?!"
"Go on, then. Try crawling out with that precious skill of yours."
Thud—
The witch was leaving this place. Lucia lunged forward to stop her, but she could not keep the golem from collapsing.
"……Did I fall asleep?"
Shiron scratched his head and pushed himself upright. He had never been in the habit of taking naps, yet today he had somehow managed to doze off twice.
And this was still before dinner; drowsiness could hardly be blamed on a food coma.
Just then, a smell that sharpened the appetite filled his nostrils and flooded his sinuses. Shiron rubbed eyes that refused to open properly and looked around.
"…"
He could not believe the scene unfolding right in front of him.
"You're awake?"
"…What are you doing?"
"What do you think? You wouldn't get up no matter how long I waited, so I went ahead and fixed a meal."
"That so?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow's the day they take applications for the subjugation festival, so let's eat quick, sleep well, and get up early."
"…"
I'm seeing things.
The Lucia Shiron knew could neither cook nor speak kindly. The sheer wrongness of it sparked a mild headache.
"…"
Then, all at once, he remembered the witch he had run into earlier that day.
The moment that ominous presence rose in his mind, Shiron's fist clenched tight.
Shit. I'm exhausted enough to drop dead, and now this crap.
Just as she had said, tomorrow was the day applications opened for the subjugation festival. Pointless interference had his irritation flaring hard.
Three seconds to get that far.
Deciding to kill the witch did not require any long deliberation.
Shiron murmured under his breath.
"Seira."
The boy's vision filled with white light.
The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was an angel with a ring floating above her head.
"Hero! It's been so long!"
Latera greeted him brightly, completely oblivious to his circumstances.
It really had been a long time; she looked thoroughly delighted.
"A lot of time has passed, hasn't it? Well? Has your heart hardened a little? Are you ready? Thinking about you made every single day feel like a year."
Latera beamed as she seized his hand and shook it. As for what "ready" meant — it was probably that business from about a year ago, something about pulling her out of this place and so on.
"Still, I'm relieved. You said you were racking up demerits, but you can still come in here. Let's see… eight hundred points?! Hero, at this rate you really might end up in hell!"
"Quit yapping."
He barely restrained himself from knuckling Latera on the head. Outside, a witch might already be doing who-knew-what to him; he had no leisure for this nonsense.
And then—
"Fuck."
"…Uh. Uh?"
His eyes flew wide.
That sound had not come from his own mouth. It had spilled from Latera's dainty little lips.
Grrrind—
The girl who always broke into a silly grin the moment she saw him was now twisting her face and grinding her teeth.
"Hey, don't get that mad. I, uh… sorry for cutting you off."
"Hero."
"…What."
Watching someone who almost never lost her temper get angry made him… a little frightened. He took an involuntary step back.
At which point Latera, against his will, hooked his ankle and dumped him on the floor. From a perfect mount she pressed a hand to his chest.
Latera looked down at him with blazing eyes.
"You've come because you need a blessing."
"…Yeah."
He had stopped by so he could free himself from the witch's illusion — or dream.
Having his thoughts read annoyed him a little, but whether he felt foul or not was not what mattered right now. He needed to return to the real world this instant and kill the witch.
"In that case, I have just the thing."
The ring floating above Latera's head blazed with light, twisting and thrashing this way and that. He had seen this before — the process of imprinting a blessing upon a soul.
A moment later, Latera lifted her hand from his chest and slipped lightly off him.
"I've removed the Blessing of Wrath and the Blessing of Vigor, and granted you the Blessing of Fortitude and the Blessing of Ward."
Blessing of Wrath — Removed
Blessing of Vigor — Removed
Blessing of Fortitude — Granted
Blessing of Ward — Granted
With those words, he blinked — and the world flipped over.
"Shiron? Are you asleep?"
His vision snapped wide open. Shiron lifted his head and looked at the woman in front of him. There was the face of the female knight in armor he had seen that afternoon. The illusion had broken.
Damn. She's dressed pretty provocatively.
The woman — in an outfit that left one wondering whether she was dressed or not — had gathered her lightly wavy hair to one side so it spilled over a shoulder.
A body of just-right maturity filled the boy's field of view.
What the hell is she playing at.
Even so, Shiron's killing intent did not soften in the slightest.
He ran his tongue once over dry lips.
"Lucia. It's been a while — how about a kiss?"
"W-what?"
The witch flinched at Shiron's unexpectedly forward attitude.
"Why so surprised? We kiss three times a day before every meal. Don't you remember?"
Shiron closed the distance on the witch with a languid, teasing air.
"R-right… we did…"
The witch scratched her cheek, trying to hide a flustered look.
Shiron gently took hold of the witch's shoulder and looked into her eyes. They were a little unfocused, as if she were expecting something.
One corner of Shiron's mouth curled up in a cold smirk.
"What are you hoping for, you whore."
"…What?"
Ailey Suarez's eyes went wide. In that fraction of an instant—
a white blade was already in the boy's hand.
Shiron swept the Holy Sword horizontally across the witch's throat.