Check and Coco: Hero Rescue Operation (7)

"Holy crap."

Villain No. 13, who had just surfaced from underground, caught sight of that spectacle. Check and Spade. Their brutal, desperate fight.

At a glance, it looked evenly matched. Spade was holding her own far better than he'd expected. In his mind, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠battle should have already ended by now, with Spade beaten to a pulp, rolling on the ground like trash.

But defying his predictions, the fight dragged on, and Spade was even keeping pace with Check's onslaughts almost toe-to-toe. Still, No. 13 was an Awakener with exceptional gifts. Even without his powers, his eyes could perceive things others couldn't, and they told him the truth of the battle.

And according to those eyes, the situation was far from good. Spade fought like a runaway tank, squeezing every last drop from her limits. Check, facing her, remained calm and composed, parrying with ease. Worse, the red mana flames flickering around Spade looked ready to collapse at any moment. One slip, and it would all crumble like a sandcastle before the waves.

Hoping Check would go easy because they were comrades? Pointless. Most Awakeners were half-mad. Heroes were no different. The only reason they could be heroes was that their lunacy was just a bit more controllable than those doomed to become villains.

"I told you to run if it got dangerous!"

Throwing himself into that storm would just get him torn apart. Yet, as if struck by an idea, he edged closer to the battlefield with Club in tow, moving cautiously.

Spade knew it too. With the heart of an ancient tree and No. 13's help opening the 'Door of Possibility,' her growth was explosive—but the gap with Check was too vast to bridge with such shortcuts. Her body and heart creaked and wailed in protest, screaming that she'd hit her limit, that she couldn't go further.

A hopeless difference. No amount of skill could close it. But surrender? Not an option.

Outmatched in skill. Outmatched in mana control. Outmatched in experience. Outmatched in technique. To overturn that fatal disadvantage, Spade unleashed her trump card.

Her desperate cry, that incantation—Check narrowed her eyes as she faced her.

It was magic. A miracle granted by the Constellation, defying common sense. Receiving revelation from her Constellation, empowered by the mana it bestowed, Spade now shouted those engraved words aloud.

As she cried out, red flames enveloped her body like a blaze. A beastly roar seemed to echo from those mana flames. They now shrouded her so thickly that her form was barely visible.

Proportionally, Spade rampaged even more fiercely, striking Check with greater power and speed. No. 13 recognized it—this was her all-out final assault. The moment those flames died, she'd burn out like an engine out of fuel, self-destructing alone.

She'd poured everything into it. Yet Check still blocked every blow. Even stacking limit upon limit, Spade's attacks never reached her.

Wrrrrrrrrrr...

'...?'

Check suddenly heard a strange hum. It came from beyond the flames, from Spade. She'd realize its source soon enough.

Spade pressed her furious assault. But then, the mana flames around her began gathering toward one spot. With the sound, they surged toward the baton in her hand.

That baton, clashing with Check's and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sparking endlessly—now red mana flames converged on it. As they gathered, its strikes grew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heavier. Even Check's mana struggled to fully counter them.

"Holy crap... I've never seen anything like this...!"

Check laughed in admiration. Sweat beaded on her brow, her breaths ragged—she wasn't as relaxed now. Yet she grinned, clearly thrilled.

Finally, the flames condensed almost entirely into the baton, save the bare minimum. The compressed blaze shone like the sun.

Spade raised the flame-infused baton vertically.

"Haa, aaaaaaaaaaah!!"

An overhead slash. As if to cleave Check in two, she swung it down from above. At the same time, unlike before, she unleashed the flames within—in one explosive burst.

Fwoooooooosh!!!!

Dazzling light, a ferocious blaze that threatened to swallow everything, erupted from the descending weapon. It exploded outward, engulfing Check and her surroundings.

The light and flames cleared. The sounds of violence and destruction faded, the towering dust settling slowly.

No more blue flames. No more red ones.

As the dust parted, the scene before the abandoned factory came into view.

"...Gotta admit, that surprised me a bit."

One stood, one lay fallen. Check bore some scratches but stood unscathed. At her feet lay Spade, drained of all mana and struck dead-on by a counter after her big attack, unconscious.

The fight was over. Done.

Spade's growth and that final strike were impressive enough to earn awe, but she still fell short of the 7th Squad vice-captain by several moves.

'Killing her feels off.'

'Maybe smash a limb or two, just in case.'

As Check mulled those grim thoughts casually after the battle, it happened.

"...?!"

Her gaze snapped sideways. A prickling instinct jolted her. Unsure what, she just turned her head.

And in her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turned field of vision, off in the distance—someone stood.

"That's far enough, Check."

There stood a man, with her familiar junior Club beside him. He extended a hand toward Check.

The next instant, Check had no idea what happened. She'd barely registered them when—

――――――――!!!

Something slammed into her body, hurling her across the plaza like a cannonball.

Good thing Coco hadn't killed him. No wasted mana on revival nonsense—he could test this method instead.

So thinking, No. 13 beheld his maximum firepower, poured from all his current mana: the colossal 『Ship』.

A massive golden prow had materialized in the air, smashing Check away with its momentum. But it was just a fraction—the front end. The rest remained in the darkness beyond a spatial rift.

Even that faded quickly, vanishing after a brief show.

He'd diligently extracted mana from Spade and Club through sex, stockpiling it. Yet even exhausting nearly all left him summoning just a part, for mere moments.

Tsking at the disappointing result—worse than hoped—he rushed to Spade's fallen form.

"Hey, hey! Spade! Wake up! You okay?!"

He patted her cheeks. No response. But her eyebrows twitched, and she breathed. Alive. Relief.

He'd feared the worst seeing her collapse amid that blinding explosion.

"Guess it's fine... No need to barge in so recklessly."

Acting on 'just in case' had been overkill. Mana spent, but Spade safe—good enough. The scraps left might heal scratches, but pointless; he gave up on that.

More pressing matters remained.

"......Give me a break. That was my best shot."

Incredulous, No. 13 glanced across the plaza. Where Check had flown—crashing through a wall like a shell—she now climbed back, foot on the rubble.

Cracking her neck, she returned. A trickle of blood on her forehead, but otherwise fine.

Considering that prow's mass and speed, the impact dwarfed a dump truck hit. He'd figured she'd survive, but unscathed? Confidence killer.

"...You? That you? It's you, huh? The bastard who kidnapped, tormented, and mindfucked my girls."

Even from afar, her vicious killing intent poured out thickly as she approached slowly. Like the reaper's footsteps, or an advancing guillotine.

"Gotta ask what you did to my girl Spade first... so I won't kill ya yet."

"But I ain't lettin' ya go easy neither."

"I'll beat the livin' shit outta ya 'til ya beg for death."

Check's blue eyes pierced No. 13 like daggers, promising instant death for any twitch or funny business.

Yet facing her, No. 13 didn't flinch. He turned to Club beside him and muttered one word:

"Do it."

'...?'

Check didn't grasp what was coming. Just that her threats felt oddly futile. And the glance exchanged between No. 13 and Club felt off—ominous.

But before she could react, No. 13's 'final measure' activated.

The voice echoed in Check's ear, her mind—like a radio. She wasn't using any device. But she knew a similar ability: Club's 『Sensory Sharing』, adapted for crude telepathy...

That familiar voice, those words—and one of the two prepared brainwashing keywords reached her.

The light faded from Check's eyes. She halted mid-stride. The iron rod slipped from her loosening grip, clattering loudly to the ground, masterless.