Labyrinth and Puppet (2)
“Katana…”
With an unidentified enemy who wore a katana at his waist standing right before me, my wariness spiked to unprecedented heights.
It was bizarre.
That single word barely captured the sense of wrongness and strangeness emanating from the thing in front of me.
Though it took the form of a human, clad head to toe in blue full-body armor like Nana, it gave off no hint of humanity whatsoever.
I channeled aura through my veins to reinforce my entire body, sharpening my senses to an abnormal degree in a desperate bid to learn anything about it.
A faint heartbeat-like sound reached my ears, but the rate was absurdly low.
So low that it seemed miraculous the thing could stand there so calmly.
And there was no sound at all of blood coursing through its body—the noise any living being should make.
…What the hell is that thing?
Facing this bizarre entity that somehow blended traits of the living and the inanimate, I rested my hand on my sword hilt, bracing for any potential attack.
Obviously, there was no trace of Marina's magic power coming from it—no need to state the obvious.
Marina didn't make this. Which means it intruded from outside…
Not just now, but even in the original story, nothing like this bizarre existence had ever appeared.
If it wielded a katana, there's no way I'd forget—zero chance of mistake.
An enemy that didn't exist in the original story. That meant it had to be from the organization spawned by the possessors' interference in this world.
So what was its goal? If it was targeting the Sword Saint's lineage like in the original plot, I'd figured Rain would come first and had been waiting for her.
No, it looked at me and said, “Finally, you're here.”
So was I the target? Or did it just assume Rain had arrived, blurt that out, and then find me by coincidence?
With only its appearance and that one line to go on, the clues were too thin for a solid judgment. I hesitated—
“……”
Until then, it hadn't moved a muscle since its initial words. Suddenly, it stepped one foot forward.
I shifted into a proper stance to match, but froze solid when I saw its posture.
That's Battōjutsu…!!
Hands positioned on hilt and scabbard, ready to draw at any moment. No mistaking it—that was unequivocally a Battōjutsu stance.
Not quite my level, but from the form alone, I could tell it was highly proficient.
A fearsome opponent incomparable to Peter or Nana. My boiling battle lust threatened to melt my brain.
Finally… finally, a user of Battōjutsu…!!
I'd anticipated this day someday and prepared countermeasures specifically for facing another Battōjutsu practitioner. Now was the time they'd shine.
“Battōhaha…!!”
The joy of my dream coming true was short-lived. Watching its skilled Battōjutsu stance, one possibility flashed through my mind.
Why didn't I realize it sooner?
I should've known the instant I saw that katana at its waist.
A new organization targeting the academy, born from the possessors' influence.
An unidentified enemy wielding a katana and Battōjutsu. Put them together, and the answer was obvious.
“It was you bastards… You're the culprits who dragged Battōjutsu's reputation into the gutter in this world!!!”
“……What?”
It tilted its head, either playing dumb or genuinely confused, but my eyes couldn't be fooled.
The seven possessors presumed dropped into this world, including me.
One of those guys, who wielded an inefficient, unmanly weapon, finally realized its limits and learned Battōjutsu late in the game.
But it didn't stop there. Sucked into Battōjutsu's allure, the bastard went further.
To monopolize it, he spread absurd rumors in this world and even targeted practitioners like this one for elimination.
Just like the Illuminati and Deep State on Earth, they'd hidden this world's truths for centuries.
How insidious and meticulous a plot. If I weren't here, another who grasped Battōjutsu's elegance would've met a pathetic end at their hands.
“Admit it!! You evil fucks!!”
“……”
My gray-matter neurons had deduced a perfect conclusion. Pierced to the core, it just stared blankly, speechless.
But only for a moment. Then it shuddered violently and burst into loud laughter.
“Kahat!! Kakakat!!”
That laugh was so unnatural for a human it soured my mood, wrinkling my brow.
Why's it laughing like such a retard?
Kakakat? What is this, some Japanese manga? Was it exaggerating to hide its fluster?
“Hmph! Looks like I hit the mark!!”
“Kakakat!! Hit what? I knew you were nuts when you said you'd only trained Battōjutsu, but you're a real lunatic.”
“What? Bullshit!! And quit laughing like a fucking idiot!!! You mocking me or what!!”
“Mocking you? Thinking I'm part of some moronic organization—that's the real insult…”
Its vibe shifted from stony silence to something else.
Done laughing and hacking for breath, it spat words laced with clear hostility.
“Your retard-level guess wasn't totally off, so I'll give you 30 points.”
“What? No, if you're not from the Dark Battōjutsu Society, then what the fuck are you?”
“Two swordsmen clashing blades—does my affiliation even matter?”
“It matters, you thick-headed bastard!! If I kill you mid-fight, I can't pry info out of you!!”
It seemed to be targeting me, so I knew possessors sent it—but not who exactly.
Was gonna use Nanga, but… better to capture alive with Yoroi-doshi here?
Against a fellow swordsman—hell, a Battōjutsu user—non-lethal felt risky, but no choice.
I needed to push myself, capture it alive, uncover its identity.
Plus, baseless hunch or not, Nanga felt like a bad pick against this thing.
Matching its stance, I readied for a draw and asked,
“You got a name?”
“What, asking for intros before a duel?”
“Planning to capture you alive, but if you die, I'll guess who from your name.”
“……You sure talk big.”
Offended, it glared with even fiercer hostility.
“Won't happen, but beat me like this and I'll tell you my name.”
“Bullshit…”
If I capture it, no name even under torture. If it wins, I won't be asking anyway.
“Packaging torture confessions as a promise… You're surprisingly witty.”
“Torture? Don't worry. Whatever happens, that won't be necessary.”
I wondered what it really meant, but its surging aura left no room for idle thoughts.
“…Here I come.”
With that short warning, it drew its katana at light speed from the scabbard. I matched with my own draw, intercepting the strike.
Our blades clashed, unleashing a deafening roar and shockwave that shook the labyrinth slightly.
Not as bad as blocking Lobo's attacks, but my arms went numb.
Same for it—its arm emitted a grotesque sound no human body should make.
“Thought you were just a crazy retard, but you've got skills…”
“Shut up, I'm no crazy or retard!!”
Mid-stalemate, blades locked without quarter, it eyed my Yoroi-doshi and said,
“Weird katana. Can you even cut with that?”
“Sliced twice already—third time today. Worry not!!”
I shoved it back with force, sheathing Yoroi-doshi to redraw.
Expecting it to do the same, I aimed for that moment—but…
“Lived a long time, but never seen anyone sheath that fast.”
It didn't sheath. Katana still drawn, it charged again.
Caught off-guard by defying the “draw then sheath” norm, I couldn't redraw and dodged repeatedly.
“Judged you can't beat me at Battōjutsu and switched styles!!”
“Regrettable… nah, not regrettable at all, but yeah, seems so.”
More confident in other sword arts than Battōjutsu, its attacks post-draw were sharper than the opener, raining down on me.
Seeing its overflowing skill and mastery firsthand was infuriating, but undeniable: it outclassed me.
If all that training time went into Battōjutsu… what a monster it'd be!!
Just imagining sent chills down my spine.
Unable to parry, steadily pushed back, I realized I'd hit the wall soon. Desperate, I thrashed to escape.
Sensing victory, it swung fiercer, cornering me.
Hit the wall like this, no space for my one reliable escape: Battōjutsu.
Close-range variants existed, but repositioning the scabbard mid-dodge? No confidence.
Last resort's a gamble…
Screw it. I spun and leaped full-force at the wall.
Using it as a springboard, I vaulted high, unleashing a full-power draw at the ceiling above.
The direct-hit ceiling crumbled, debris raining on us both. It ignored, slicing or dodging rubble, waiting for my fall.
The instant my airborne body entered range, it thrust piercingly without hesitation.
“Haha…!!”
Seeing the thrust aimed to skewer me, I knew the gamble paid off and grinned.
“……Huh?”
Its confused face and dumb noise came right after the thrust.
Its katana, meant to impale me, got sheathed into the scabbard I'd yanked from my belt mid-draw. No threat now.
“What circus is this…?”
Dropping the sheathed katana without letting go, I reached for Nanga.
Watching, it yanked its hand from the hilt and backed off, prepping for my next move.
“This… can I take it as a gift?”
“Want it? Fine, but can you handle it?”
“Hmph…”
Taking the bait, instead of Nanga, I gripped the mystery katana's hilt and drew at it without hesitation.
But the lightning-fast blade didn't split its head.
“Wha…”
The katana, hurtling toward its skull, halted—clamped between its palms.
“What circus is this…?”
Blade catch.
Witnessing that manga-cliché stunt for real—in combat—I could only mutter its own line back.
What the fuck is this guy?