Evaluation Battle (2): The World Is Not Fair
The world is not fair.
Of course it isn't.
Humans don't really want equality anyway.
Humans are creatures of greed.
They want to be in a high position.
They want others beneath them.
They crave more wealth, more pleasure.
Humans want to be special.
That's why the emperor of the empire obsesses over immortality.
That's why every Tower Master in history went mad over reincarnation magic.
It's all an extension of that desire.
Humans are never satisfied, no matter their position.
They don't even realize how special their ordinary lives are.
They might not even know that I...we are clinging to that ordinary life.
They slap arbitrary value onto the curse I bear, calling it special.
Heaven-sent talent.
Daughter of the Tower Master.
And... the hero's reincarnation.
All these labels they've stuck on me won't come off.
No matter how many lives I live in different bodies.
No matter how many times I reincarnate.
The same labels cling to me.
And then they demand payment for those labels.
Payment for privileges I've never even enjoyed.
Do people know why the daughter of the Tower Master's name is always the same, generation after generation?
Whose name "Aen"—which now just means Tower Master's daughter—originally belonged to?
How the Tower Master's daughter is made?
Why I always smile so brightly?
Why I always wear this choker around my neck?
"They wouldn't know."
They probably don't even care.
Even if they did, I wouldn't feel disappointment or shock.
I've long since abandoned any expectations of humanity.
So now, I don't waste emotions on them.
"Emotions... they're nothing but a loss anyway...."
Yeah... emotions are just a loss.
Day six today.
Six days without proper food, water, or sleep.
Naturally, my body's in the worst shape possible.
And on top of that, the absolute worst part.
"...This, I kinda saw coming."
Aen Arbel.
The first friend I made after coming to the Academy.
'Fr...iend? Really?'
...Anyway, someone I'd grown somewhat attached to.
She's standing right in front of me.
Why? I don't bother thinking the same thoughts.
'She must have her reasons.'
Or maybe she approached me planning this from the start.
Either way, reasons don't matter right now, and I don't have the luxury to ponder them.
Her face is sallow, a stark contrast to her usual smiling one.
The shadows under her eyes are even darker than mine, after nights of tension keeping my body on edge.
'...This is insane.'
Aen Arbel.
The girl whose whole personality is sandwiches and smiles... but.
She's still, undeniably, a hero's reincarnation.
Way beyond what I can handle right now.
If I had decent gear, maybe I could try something....
'What the hell am I supposed to do with this junk...'
All I've got is this dull scythe.
Basically a blunt weapon.
And I have to face a hero's reincarnation with this?
With the ocean all around us.
No cover for fighting a mage, no bushes to hide in.
'...Maybe I should just ask her to kill me painlessly?'
That might actually be better....
Pew.
A flash, and pain surges from my right thigh.
A bullet wound about as thick as my finger.
'Bleeding's not a big worry.'
In this one-sided beatdown, two lucky breaks.
First, my femoral artery's intact.
Second, that spell was slow enough to react to.
No idea why she's using such low-level attacks, but it's good news for me.
Especially when I've got a bit of breathing room.
Collecting every visible detail, concise....
My eyes lock on the end point.
'Right shoulder.'
A faint tremor in her fingers.
'...Slower than last time.'
Time to form the spell array.
'Three more incoming....'
...I judge.
'Now.'
The first one, from her right shoulder—deflect with the scythe's blade.
The flat side, specifically.
Then the follow-ups, one by one.
Same spot as the first thigh hit.
'Can't deflect that one....'
Half-turn instead.
Catch it with the rotating blade.
The recoil from the spell transfers straight to my hand gripping the scythe.
"Hoo...."
Two left.
One center chest... a bit more to the left.
Right on the heart.
The other hits my left thigh simultaneously.
Dead on the femoral artery.
'...No good options.'
Even one hit means uncontrollable bleeding.
And blocking both perfectly after the last recoil's...
'...I can do it.'
If this attrition drags on, damage just piles up.
'...Scythe's awkward, but still.'
If there's a chance to block.
If I have to.
I do.
"Hoo...."
Scythe spins again.
No blade this time.
Use the shaft.
Connect the two incoming spells with a line.
Diagonal straight.
Another line at the same angle.
My scythe shaft becomes that line.
Shift the lower part slightly.
Just a tiny bit.
Both spells slam into the shaft at once.
The heart shot embeds at right angles—I hold it with raw strength for a moment.
Focus on the bottom one.
The one in the adjusted lower shaft.
Control the force.
Hard at first.
Full contact with shaft and spell.
Then gently soft.
The hard clash deflects it imperfectly left, recoil hitting me.
'...Focus.'
Recoil is force.
A burden that would've wrecked my imperfect deflection.
But not now.
Recoil direction: right.
Follow it, swing the shaft's lower end right.
As the lower end rotates right, the upper shaft blocking the heart shot swings left.
Right hand on upper shaft.
Left hand relaxes to absorb recoil, right hand tenses to control it.
Enough that the scythe doesn't fly away, but the spells deflect....
....
My hands tremble.
Not from recoil, not from strain... pure thrill.
The tiny scrape on my cheek amplifies it.
The more I feel the tremor, the more sensitive my body gets.
Even as more spells fly.
Even bigger power incoming.
Perceived speed slows even more.
"Hoo...."
Body heats up, mind cools.
Judgment sharpens, movements lighten.
Each new scrape from repeated blocks reminds me I'm alive.
One scrape, one step.
I'm gradually closing in on Arbel.
Soon, we're arm's reach apart.
Left eye: blind.
Left shoulder: half severed.
Right lower abdomen: three punctures, 10cm diameter each.
Right leg: fractured.
'Total wreck.'
Obviously.
Surviving this long with this body is a miracle.
Even one minute untouched, I'd die on my own.
But that's fine.
I've already achieved what I wanted.
Arbel's hand touches my abdomen.
And at that moment.
"Kuhk...."
A huge circular void blooms in my gut.
Right before death, I tilt my collapsing body forward with all my strength.
Leaning into her.
Luckily, she doesn't dodge.
As my gutted body presses fully against her.
I raise my right hand.
Toward her neck.
Toward the choker on her neck.
Just before my right hand touches her neck.
Vision goes black.
'...Lost too much blood.'
...It's okay.
My hand definitely reached her.
'Let's have a real talk, you and me.'
Time to answer the "why?" I've been putting off.
Vision returns from the black.
What I see... nothing.
What I feel: unpleasant dampness and a familiar stench.
The buzz of flies.
...A familiar situation.
Too familiar... a space that fills me with disgust.
My eyes, adjusted to the dark, grant me sight.
Things hidden in the gloom emerge in the dim field of view.
Iron bars etched with runes.
'Effect... magic nullification.'
A pile of children's corpses.
Black-red bloodstains stuck to the floor.
...And wounds.
Looking down at my dangling arm's wound.
Festering badly, untreated.
Grotesque, maggots visibly eating the flesh in real time....
...My arm trembles.
Not my body—the arm of the child Aen Arbel whose body I borrowed in childhood trembles briefly.
Pain? Sure, pain too.
But this tremor comes from that shitty emotion I know all too well.
'Powerlessness....'
Having power but doing nothing with it...
That's a greater pain than simple hurt.
Even if no one else knows, I do.