The Purple Demon vs. the Indigo Witch (5): Though No One Knows

FWOOOOM—!

The blast of the Burstfire Yulia had cast shook the sparring ground down to its foundations. From the judge's seat, Aurora took in the state of both girls. Hervena's mana had thinned to a density she had never shown before, and Yulia's, as always, was scraped bare against the bottom. Judging that the match would be decided before long, Aurora flicked a look at Mnevoir beside her.

In that same moment Blow Deblique, stunned speechless by the spell Yulia had just used, could do nothing but meet Skadi's eyes.

"That was..."

"Your magic, Blow."

Burstfire. The very spell he had hammered into Greig Campbell again and again — tremendous force from very little mana, and a recoil that struck the caster just as hard. Even so, if it was Yulia, she must have braced for it. He looked toward the arena with worry written plain across his face.

But the wound on her arm had split wider. Blood dripped steadily from it, and her indigo mana had begun to ripple over her skin. Blow understood better than anyone there what she was feeling now, and whatever he might have said simply left him.

Then his eyes found Hervena, barely still standing on the far side. Those once-clear, razor-sharp eyes were already half-shut, and the dress that had made her look every bit a princess was torn and scorched until it could hardly be called clothing. Every time she coughed, more blood came away on her hand.

Seeing it, Hervena's vision went white. She swallowed, dry.

She's been like this the whole time, and she still cast Burstfire?

Her hands burned as if they were on fire. Violet mana surged across her bared skin, and her sight dimmed, guttering as though it might go out. A throbbing pain rose through her whole body, and from that instant the fear that her Cancellation might vanish set her trembling.

If Cancellation drops, and that sword so much as cuts me once, that would truly...

A threat, and a fear, she had never felt before. While she was still lost inside that storm, Yulia — having somehow pulled herself together through the aftermath of Burstfire — saw that Hervena had yet to fall, and let out a long sigh, thoroughly sick of her.

"Hervena. If you've come this far, won't you do me the kindness of falling down?"

"I could say the same to you, senior."

"And yet the gap was even wider than I thought."

"......"

"Still. We ought to give it everything, right to the end."

With those words her longsword flew into the left hand she held out. Yulia reset her grip and ran for Hervena.

Ah, these legs...

They felt as though the ground itself were clinging to them. She had to wrench each step forward through clenched teeth, and in the end she only limped toward her opponent. The delay was just long enough. Hervena clawed her focus back; her violet circle flashed, and magic flew at Yulia once more.

Yulia's shield bloomed into being an instant before the strike landed. The spell itself was stopped, but the blunt, crushing weight of the wave drove her to one knee.

Like this, three or four more spells and I'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠black out.

Certain now that she truly had no time left, she planted the sword, shoved herself upright, and limped on. Her steps were far too slow, and Hervena kept inching back.

Hervena's figure shrank. Yulia's awareness drifted farther and farther away, and inside that fading she looked back through her days, through her months, and beyond them into years of memory — at herself. Crying alone against the wall of the training room when she could go no further. Memorizing Yelich's magic circles with everything she had, desperate to win even once. Refusing to blink through class while she forced herself to ignore the killing looks of her own year. Tears falling as she watched a circle collapse into nothing. All of those efforts.

If heaven had known her, she would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have bloomed in her third year. If the earth had known her, she would have crossed the wall that blocked her this year. And if there truly were a god looking down on her, then at least until today she would not have let that Hervena catch her.

When neither heaven nor earth would acknowledge her, who else was ever going to know her properly? Years of stagnation, and still she had stayed in the training room longer than anyone — and still the voices came, the ones that drained the strength out of her every time she heard them.

Remembering those words, Yulia laughed before she knew she was laughing.

Fools. Heaven doesn't know. The earth doesn't know. But this Yulia does. The effort I made. The hard years I lived through. This Yulia Edfolk knows.

I'm glad. Glad I was stupid enough to keep trying like that. Because ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of it, I know — if I wring out everything I have, I can still reach Hervena. At least that much!

The thought was over in a flash. Yulia drove her sword into the ground with a ringing crack. For an instant every sound ceased, and her eyes sank still, quiet as a lake.

Rachel, who had been looking down without a single word, felt her fingertips tremble. A strange light kindled in her eyes.

"Yulia."

Then, as if something had taken hold of her, she clenched her fist and shouted.

Yulia's eyes flared indigo.

She kicked off the earth and came crashing in. Hervena, fighting to steady herself, began to build her circle.

...This wretched duel. I'll settle it in one blow.

But the moment the incantation ended, Hervena sensed something wrong. The circle that should already have been more than finished was not even half complete.

Greed. The greed of wanting to end it in a single strike. Layer upon layer of things piled together — perhaps her first failure. By the time she understood it, it was already far too late.

Yulia reached her in an instant. She stepped in as if to embrace her and seized both of her hands, gripping so hard that the hands she held began to shake. With a smile that was entirely her own, she looked down into Hervena's blank face. Inside that gaze — a glare like a curse — the sky was closing over with cloud.

Rumble—

Thunder cried across the whole arena, and an indigo magic circle began to form beneath their feet.

"Hervena Westriver."

"......"

"I'm never doing this with you again."

Indigo lightning heaved inside the dark clouds. Yulia spoke, clear enough for every ear.

Flash—

Indigo lightning struck Yulia and Hervena dead-on. A glare bright enough to blind, and then—

KRAAANG—

—the sound, arriving a beat late.

Everyone in the stands rose at once to look, but the smoke climbing from where the lightning had fallen hid everything.

"D-did both of them get hit?"

"It's the caster's own mana, so..."

"No. They were both at their limit. Still, if Hervena had managed even a defensive spell at the end...?"

The murmur in the stands swelled. Hearts in their throats, they stared at that spot until at last the smoke thinned, and the two of them, fallen, came into view.

"A draw?"

Everyone was thinking it, hands clutched to their heads, when one of the two lifted her right hand — a hand raised as if to touch the sky. In that instant every noisy sound in the arena died away.

The battle-axe standing alone, driven into the earth, settled into its owner's grip. Then Yulia Edfolk braced on it and hauled herself up. Standing, she fought for each breath and quieted her trembling shoulders. Aurora was already beside her; no one had seen her arrive. She bit her lower lip and gave a nod, and at last she lifted Yulia's left arm high.

Aurora's declaration of victory rang through the arena. Applause like thunder, and cheers, poured down on the girl still standing, and firework-magic in the indigo that was hers began to stitch the sky.

...I did it.

Only then did the victory feel real. Looking up at a sky dressed entirely in indigo, Yulia remembered the first time she had been driven out to this Caipol. Crouched inside the carriage, she had watched the city slide past — Caipol sunk in colorless gray, nothing but gray. She had hated the sight so much that she had every window of the carriage shut, and when she reached the mansion she drew the curtains over every window there as well.

School, bleak and difficult and strange. One year of learning how to belong. One year of blooming. And three years of deadlock.

When some wave comes crashing through a life, if you can be certain that a destination called hope is waiting at the end of it, no one carelessly lets go of the oar.

If the Yulia of now could say one thing to the girl who had sat blankly crouched in that carriage — or further back, and further, and further still, to the child who dropped a packet of cookies, who could not sleep through the night, who drove a knife into herself, who threw up every morning and ran, and ran again — if she were given that chance, she would take that girl's hand and tell her thank you. Because at the end of that moment there had been a present bright enough to make her forget every hardship. Because at the end of that hopeless voyage, she had been able to meet a today that was nothing but light.

Overcome, Yulia scrubbed hard at her eyes and swept the stands. Strangely, today, sooner than Blow and Rachel — the ones she always found first — she found her father. Deschamp, crying like a fool as he looked at her.

Ah.

I'm glad.

Glad I didn't let him see me looking pathetic.

The strength went out of her whole body, and the world before her eyes simply went dark.