It's Been a Long Time Since I've Been This Angry

It had been a long time since she'd been this angry.

Alan Ludwig's heart was pounding with excitement as he stepped onto the stage for the semifinals. It had been a hard fight, but he'd clawed his way here somehow. Kyou Ventus was already waiting in the finals. Just one more person. If he could bring down the woman standing in front of him, he could finally take the revenge he'd been waiting and waiting for.

"The next match: Alan Ludwig versus Iris Reiknear!"

Cheers for Alan thundered down from the stands. This was Alan Ludwig, the boy who had torn spectacular reverse victories from the jaws of countless formidable opponents. His opponent this time was Iris Reiknear, whose name was known as the strongest swordswoman in the academy. The roar was thick with the crowd's hope that he would put on another dazzling comeback.

Of course, a few faces in the crowd wore looks of open dissatisfaction. To their eyes, Alan Ludwig's so-called comebacks had been farces too absurd to swallow. And yet there had been no hint of a scheme, no trace of magic or drugs or any other underhanded method. Which meant every last one of those ridiculous spectacles had simply... happened by chance. The tournament committee itself had launched a painstaking investigation with thoroughly bewildered expressions on their faces.

"Even we think the odds are absurd. But all we can say is that it actually happened."

Faced with a committee official who looked genuinely aggrieved, even those who had come to protest found themselves at a loss for words. And they were frustrated. They suspected he was cheating somehow — they just didn't have a scrap of evidence to prove it.

The moment Alan drew his practice sword, Iris drew the borrowed blade of her own. The unsharpened steel glittered, catching the sunlight — well cared for, by the look of it. She fixed a steady glare on the silver-haired boy in front of her. As they faced each other with swords drawn, the referee signaled the start of the match.

Alan Ludwig charged at once. His blade swung for Iris, but she slipped it with ease. One strike. Two. Three. Alan poured in consecutive cuts, and Iris evaded every last one of them as if they were nothing.

"Tch!"

Alan grew more impatient with every attack that missed. And the instant his flurry ended, a counter came flying at him as if it had been waiting. Iris's strikes arrived at timings and angles that made them nearly impossible to raise a sword against. He had to throw himself aside and roll more than once just to stay clear.

"Pathetically slow."

"Kh... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Then...!"

Alan discarded his shield and gripped the practice sword with both hands. Iris's eyes narrowed at the stance. It was the high-speed flurry he had used again and again throughout the tournament — reasonably fast, but without an ounce of real power in it. All flash and no substance. Taking a few hits wouldn't even have been a problem. That was how Iris saw it.

But in this Martial God Festival, everyone who had blocked that attack or taken it head-on had lost. All because of incidents that had truly occurred... by chance. So Iris focused, carefully, with her full attention.

"Haaaaaah!!"

With a fighting cry, Alan whipped the two-handed practice sword in a rapid arc.

At the same time, the crowd's chanting of Alan's name flooded the stadium. Alan felt as if the cheers filling the arena were pumping more strength into him. So many people were cheering for him. They wanted him to win.

"Haaaaaaaah!!"

The first attack — Iris took a single step and slipped it easily. The second came right on its heels; she twisted her body and the strike went wide. Third, fourth, fifth — a triple flurry. Iris threw herself backward and evaded.

Why...!

Iris Reiknear was reading every swing, dodging them all. The sight of it drove Alan's impatience to a breaking point. So far, not a single attack had landed a clean hit on her. No — not a single attack had even connected. Yes. Just like... just like the duel with Kyou Ventus a few months ago. That thought only made him more frantic.

"Uaaaaaaaah!!"

Alan's rapid flurry picked up even more speed. By the time the sixteen-strike combination pouring from his hands came to an end, not once in that entire barrage had he so much as touched Iris Reiknear.

...I thought speed was the only thing he had going for him. Even that's painfully slow. Iris thought as she slipped Alan's flurry. Yesterday's special training with Kyou Ventus came back to her — he'd been imitating Alan's movements. If anything, Kyou's attacks, mere imitations, had felt faster.

Five more. Evading the eleventh strike, Iris started counting the timing. Alan's consecutive cuts kept coming. Four... three... two.... Having slipped every attack, she clenched her right hand tight around the hilt.

"One... Haaaah!!"

WHAM!!

"Guh!!"

The instant she slipped the last strike, Iris threw her body forward and drove a blow into Alan. His face twisted as the practice sword connected cleanly. It landed! Thinking that, she immediately pressed the attack. Thud! Thwack! Thud!! Her swift strikes hammered Alan's body in succession, pounding him without mercy — hard enough that screams rose from the stands. This is it! She was about to deliver the finishing blow.

"Kh...?!"

A sudden, violent headache slammed into Iris's skull. What... is this? I haven't taken a single hit...? Along with the crushing pain, her legs began to tremble. She felt the strength draining from her entire body. Her grip nearly failed; she almost dropped the sword, but her hand clenched of its own accord and somehow kept it from falling.

The moment Iris's movement stopped, the roar from the stands swelled even louder. As always, the perfect chance for Alan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to counterattack had arrived. The crowd cheered, certain it had come again. ...Only a handful of people noticed how strange it looked — Iris, who hadn't allowed a single attack through, suddenly freezing like that.

A laugh reached Iris's ears through the terrible pain. As she struggled to focus her blurring vision, she saw Alan steady himself and re-grip his sword. He raised the blade high and charged straight at her.

...That's a charge full of openings.

Her head hurt. Her body wouldn't move the way she wanted. If she took that hit like this, the sword she was barely holding onto would fall from her hand.

Drop her sword?

Iris remembered learning the sword from her father as a child.

Her father's face, looking at her as he said those words, rose unbidden. Strength poured into Iris's hand of its own accord. She would not — could not — let this sword fall from her grip.

"Aaaaaaaaah!!"

Iris swung the practice sword clenched in her fist in a great, sweeping arc. Alan, mid-charge, flinched and pulled back from the force of it.

Kyaaaaah!!

Kyaaah!!

"...Ah."

The pain. The agony tearing through her skull, the helplessness that had swallowed her body — it vanished in a rush, as if blown away on the wind.

"Hah... hah..."

The stands were roaring. Alan had stepped back for a moment, sword still in hand. Iris somehow pulled herself together, dragging in ragged breaths.

"Haaaaah!!"

Alan, whose momentum had died for just an instant, charged again. He didn't understand what had happened, but he'd judged that his opponent was showing an opening.

"...!!"

CLANG!! Alan's desperate charging attack was stopped easily by the practice sword Iris had raised. Her heart lurched for a second, but there was no sign anything was wrong with the blade in her hand. ...It was a borrowed sword. She'd worried what she'd do if something happened to it. The practice sword still gleamed, catching the light. Iris let out a breath of relief and gripped it tight with both hands. As if the crushing headache of a moment ago had been a lie, a cold, lucid rage began to slowly consume her.

"...I don't know what the hell you just pulled."

Iris and Alan faced each other again. Alan faltered for a moment at the killing intent pouring off her. A few seconds passed. In Alan's vision as he watched her, Iris's form blurred — then vanished.

"Huh...?"

WHAM!!

"Gyaaaaah!!"

In that instant, a savage pain exploded through Alan's waist. By the time he registered the practice sword that had slammed into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him, it was already too late.

"That was a real nasty little trick you pulled."

"...W-what are you talking about...?"

"Can't tell if you're playing dumb or you actually don't know..."

Watching Alan tremble, somehow still holding onto his sword, Iris's mouth curled into a smirk.

"It's been a long time since I've been this pissed. Let's see how long you can last, shall we?"

"Ugh..."

Thud!! Thwack!! Thud!! Thud!! Primitive sounds of impact filled the stage, loud enough that the stands fell silent in an instant.