36. The Moon That Rises by Day
Jane went on, her voice low but perfectly clear.
"The Young Master cares for you a great deal, Hervena."
"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"
"He doesn't want to send you away."
"Don't lie to me. Not once—not even as a joke—has that man ever said anything like that."
The past had risen in Hervena, and she was shouting, worked up and raw. Jane only looked at her, as calm as ever.
"It isn't that he won't say it. He can't. He believes that he, and his house, would only be a stumbling block in your future."
"Oh, please."
"And there's the way he treated you badly before. He knows that all too well. Better than you do, maybe. That's why, all the more—"
"And how would you even know that?"
"If you don't want to believe me, then fine!"
Jane could not hold it in. Her voice climbed, and somewhere along the way her fists had clenched tight. Skadi, startled to see the ever-composed Jane like this, went round-eyed.
"That's why the Young Master is fighting this duel. He can't be shameless the way he used to be."
"What does that even…"
"No one can move on a single thought and a single feeling alone."
"…"
"That's how he must feel about you. He's sorry. He feels guilty. And still, part of him wants to keep you at his side."
"And the conclusion he came to is a duel? That's all?"
"He's trying to settle it with his own body. That's what this is."
Skadi, who had listened in silence until then, let out a sigh.
"Even that is so very like the bastard."
Jane nodded without a word, agreeing. Hervena turned it over for a moment, and then, as if she simply could not accept it, shook her head hard.
"Right. Must be nice, being so clever. So I'm the fool who doesn't know a damn thing and just runs her mouth on guesswork? That it? Huh?"
"Hey, Hervena. Why the hell are you talking like that? Did you even hear the same thing I did?"
Angry, Skadi stepped in close. Hervena did not give an inch; she looked up at her. Skadi had been about to snap back, but the rims of Hervena's eyes were red, and at the sight of them she sighed and turned her face away.
A heavy silence settled. Then Jane spoke again.
"I think I put it badly. Give it a little time, and you'll understand too—"
"No. You want me to understand again?"
"…"
Jane's eyes closed at last. Skadi only leaned against the wall and stared up at the sky. And with that, Hervena went back to the school.
In the laboratory she flung her clothes aside, so choked she wanted to scream loud enough for everyone to hear. Research would not stay in her hands. Neither would her assignments. So she pulled the cork from a bottle and, with nothing to eat alongside it, took three long swallows, filling her mouth each time.
Then, all at once, the urge to go find her Young Master seized her, and she gave herself over to it.
The moment she faced him, she poured her feelings out without restraint. It was the first time. Until now she had always swallowed them down. But her Young Master neither scolded her nor grew angry. He only listened, quiet, and Hervena felt strangely hollow—because Jane's words seemed to have been right, and Skadi's actions too, and because she herself had not been able to do the same.
For the first time in a long while, she slept deeply in Blow's bed.
When she woke the next day, a single potion sat on the desk in that narrow room, a note beside it.
Good for a hangover. Make sure you drink it.
The hangover had left her with a splitting headache and a burning thirst, but she could not bring herself to pick the potion up.
While Hervena was remembering that day, the match had turned one-sided. The jeers from the crowd were growing uglier, and still Greig Campbell kept his distance, doing nothing but spraying magic at Blow. The places the fire had struck ached so badly that tears and snot streamed down his face; he had no mind left to read the mood of the stands.
"Please… just fall already."
"…"
Blow, swaying where he stood, had long since passed his own limit. Half his defensive circles died before they could even form, and every time they failed, magic raked across him.
"That's too much…"
The voice came from the stands. The referee, however, still showed no intention of stopping it.
A boom rolled over the arena, and Blow went down again.
Watching from above, Yulia bit her lower lip and shot Julbert a glare.
"Are you enjoying this?"
At the sharp edge in her voice, he could not answer. His own position had grown just as awkward.
The bullfight should have been over long ago. After driving the lance into the bull's flank, the matador was supposed to spread his arms to the applause pouring down on him. After that, Julbert was meant to have the carcass cleared away and sit down to discuss what came next, and what after that. And so he had lost. He had not planned this spectacle with some hollow, scarred victory in mind.
Watching Blow haul himself up once more, Julbert let out an empty laugh. He realized, then, that he had never understood the man called Blow Deblique—that he had written him off under the name of scoundrel and never looked any further. His tea had gone cold long ago.
"What are you thinking, Blow Deblique?"
"That's why you'll never manage it."
Rachel's voice drifted in, a faint smile on her lips.
"Thought never stands in for action."
Hearing that, Julbert clenched his fist until his nails bit into his palm.
The entire crowd was on its feet, roaring Blow's name. Greig glared at him through rough, heaving breaths.
H-how long is this farce supposed to go on…
He remembered what he and Julbert had said the day before.
"How about not using Advanced magic, or your spirit, at the start? Work the crowd a little. If you overwhelm him too completely, there's no fun in it."
"And in the end, it would be rather nice if Blow Deblique were covered in blood. The audience ought to be shown an image of that degree, don't you think? Hervena as well."
"I've already spoken to the referee, Professor Arhudin. We'll conduct it under a true Gladiatorial Rule."
He should have shaken his head then. If he had known it would hurt this much, he should have spent every best move he had at the opening and ended it in a rout. All he wanted now was a healing spell, a comfortable bed, and a sandwich to chew on.
But the situation was not good. Even his mana, which had once seemed to fountain up without end, was starting to show the bottom—and Blow kept getting back up. So he sprayed magic once more. If he took another blast of fire, something irreversible seemed certain to happen.
Please… please just stay down, please!!
But in the eyes of Blow, risen yet again, a light was still glittering.
Is there something else left that I don't know about?
Writhing in fear, he shouted.
"Blow Deblique!! I'm telling you to stop!!"
Blow gave no answer.
As Greig sank into despair, his spirit—tittering beside him—whispered something soft. Hearing it, Greig's eyes began to stain with madness.
All the while, half the stands chanted Blow's name, while the other half had gone solemn, waiting for the match to end. Blow Deblique looked, for all the world, like a martyr. By the time awe filled their eyes, Greig decided this nightmare had to end.
"Fine, you bastard!! Let's finish this."
No sooner had the words left him than the spirit at his side burst into an unpleasant laugh and constructed a magic circle utterly unlike anything before. As the vast, murky circle took shape, orange mana began to trace itself across his whole body.
"No."
Sensing the anomaly from the student council seats, Yulia rose to her feet.
"Undine's Corruption"
Before she could act, the hastily built spell had already left his hand: a filthy black sphere of water. The spirit beside him laughed, split the sphere into several pieces, and fired them. The closer they drew, the more astonishingly huge they became.
This… if one hits me dead-on, I could die.
Blow wrung out the last of his mana and tried to form a circle, but it collapsed, powerless. The referee, sensing the anomaly, summoned a circle in front of him, yet he could not nullify them all. Five spheres came down on Blow with an ominous sound.
Won't be minding the shop for a while.
He was resigning himself to that when the barrier between the arena and the stands shattered to pieces.
Hervena Westriver, crying for reasons she did not understand, stepped inside and formed a magic circle.
"Hervena…"
The strain of the rushed cast had sent her mana into a runaway, and the capillaries in her eyes burst.
⟨ Inverse Operation: Annihilation ⟩
The spheres stained violet and began to annihilate. But a single one, only half-destroyed, flew on toward Blow.
Ah.
The Blow caught in her pupils seemed to be smiling at her, the way he always did.
A deafening blast swallowed the arena.
It had been a little short. Of time, and of her magic.
The strength left Hervena's legs, and she dropped to her knees. Yulia, reaching the arena a beat too late, let out a groan.
"Was I late? Did I…?"
Meanwhile Rebecca summoned a healing circle with one hand and hurriedly cleared the smoke. But what met their eyes afterward was something no one present could have expected.
"Hm?"
At the sight unfolding before her, Rebecca's breath caught hard in her throat. Yulia's pupils slackened, and so did Hervena's.
Blow was standing. Or rather than standing, it seemed as if invisible threads were holding his body up. The wounds were already gone, and the crimson mana with them. Above him, floating in the empty air, hung an overwhelming White Sphere, twice the size of his body. The air it gave off seemed, to them, as unreal as if someone had torn the moon out of the sky and brought it here.
"What in the world is that…?"
Blow passed the three of them, frozen where they stood, and went straight for Greig Campbell. Greig and his spirit, beholding that moonlike white sphere floating above him, trembled as if they had looked into an abyss. At that, the referee, Arhudin, rushed in. Blow did not even look at him. He simply reached a hand forward.
A sickening crack split the air. The arena floor groaned, and a spiderweb lattice opened in the ground beneath Greig and Arhudin. As if an invisible giant's hand were crushing them, they were slammed mercilessly to the floor.
"Aaaagh!"
Feeling as if every muscle in his body were tearing, Greig began to scream.
"Stop! I surrender! I surrender!!"
But Blow's eyes were utterly empty. The pleas went on, and the mana gathering before him showed no sign of dispersing.
"I-if you do this!! Do you think my mother and father will just sit still!! Do you think House Campbell will just sit by, I said!!"
With those words, a wave of crimson mana shot out like a line. Only then did Yulia come to herself and start to move—and in that instant a ringing clash turned the tremendous mana aside. It smashed straight into the wall.
Rachel Campbell.
Her black greatsword flashed in the sun as she stood planted between them.
"I already let one pass."
Even with her there, Blow did not so much as stir. He only stared straight ahead. An orange aura began to ripple along Rachel's sword.
"Get rid of that sphere. Now. Blow Deblique."
But Blow took a step toward Greig, and Rachel's sword rose above her head. The blade came for him without delay.
Then an indigo magic circle bloomed on the ground beneath Blow Deblique's feet.
⟨ Spatial Transference ⟩
The circle flashed indigo, and in the same instant both he and the sphere were moved to the far end of the arena. Hervena, who had been there, burst her own mana and stepped toward Blow.
Seeing that, Rachel Campbell turned her gaze to the Indigo Witch standing before her, panting—Yulia.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Yulia Edfolk?"
Yulia wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief and answered in a clear voice.
"I am doing what must be done."