Hans. I trust you, but you’re wrong about this. She and I can understand each other.
Time passed, and Adlet waited patiently.
“I understand you now,” said Fremy. And then Adlet saw—clear intent to kill in Fremy’s downcast eyes.
“!” A gunshot rang out. Adlet crouched, just barely dodging the bullet.
“I understand that you are my enemy,” said Fremy. Her eyes were filled with endless, deep darkness.
Mora dashed toward Hans. He was still restraining Chamo, leaving him unable to avoid her charge. Mora snatched Chamo away and then removed the restraints from the girl’s hands and mouth. Now free, Chamo expelled a deep breath as Mora handed her her foxtail.
“What’re ya doin’?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that gal is?!” Hans yelled.
“Listen, Chamo,” said Mora. “You keep an eye on him. Do not let him leave this temple.”
“Sure. Leave it to Chamo.” The little Saint smirked.
Mora grasped her shoulder roughly. “And I do mean watch him. I am not telling you to attack him—only move if he moves. If you do a proper job, I won’t become even angrier with you.”
“Oh…so you are mad, after all.” A cold sweat oozed down Chamo’s forehead.
“If you get out of hand again, next time you will get more than just a spanking,” Mora threatened.
“Okay…,” Chamo replied, hands over her bottom.
“Chamo, is Mora so strong she can scare even you?” Hans was surprised.
Chamo replied, “Chamo’s a lot more powerful than her, but…Auntie Mora is scary.”
Mora sighed deeply. Though she hadn’t done anything, a heavy sound echoed from her body. “Spirit of Mountains, give me strength,” she murmured, and then she opened her mouth wide and shouted. The sound was like an explosion. “PRINCESS! GOLDOF! FREMY!” It was more than just a shout. Her voice echoed manyfold, sounding throughout the entire forest.
“What the heck?!” cried Hans.
“It’s her mountain echo power!” explained Chamo. “Auntie Mora is the Saint of Mountains. She can do lots of stuff!” Hans and Chamo were both covering their ears and could barely hear each other talk.
“HANS HAS BEEN BEATEN! HE SURVIVED, BUT HE’S IN CRITICAL CONDITION! THE CULPRIT WAS ADLET! HE IS THE SEVENTH!”
Hans was shocked.
“KILL HIM RIGHT AWAY! DON’T HESITATE!” With that, Mora’s echo faded.
“What the hell are ya thinkin’?!” Hans was enraged.
Mora grabbed him by the collar. “Now the princess will steel herself. I know not what is on Fremy’s mind, but I doubt most deeply that she would allow Adlet to escape. Now he is without recourse.”
“You hag, are you—” Hans was about to say something when a snake-fiend wrapped around his arm.
Chamo spat out a few more fiends to hold him fast. “Auntie Mora, do we really need to half kill him?”
“Don’t be foolish. You need only restrain him.” Mora adjusted her collar and ran out of the temple.
“Wait! Wait, damn you!” Hans tried to follow, but he was unable to shake off the fiends. “Wait! Are you the seventh?”
Mora did not turn back toward Hans’s cries. She just dashed straight toward Fremy’s location.
Mora’s mountain echo had reached every part of the forest. As Fremy loaded her gun, she said coolly, “I see, then.”
Adlet shook with rage as he skittered here and there, keeping his body low to the ground. “What the hell are you doing, Mora?!” He looked at his hand. None of the petals of the flower crest were missing, but was Hans going to be okay? Adlet was worried that maybe something really had happened to him and that he was going to die. To make things worse, this meant that Adlet might have lost his final ally. Adlet prayed silently, Please, Nashetania. Please realize that was a lie.
Fremy manifested a roughly apple-sized lump of gunpowder in her palm. She tossed it up high in the air and made it explode. Adlet figured she was alerting Mora, Goldof, and Nashetania to her position. If he lingered, he would be surrounded, but if he headed to the temple, he’d run into Mora. What was he to do? Where on earth could he run?
“Your Highness, did you hear what Mora said?”
Nashetania was standing stock-still, stunned. It seemed that Goldof’s voice had not reached her ears. Next, they heard the sound of an explosion.
“That must have been Fremy,” said Goldof. “I’d wager she’s telling us Adlet’s position. Let’s go.”
“…” Nashetania just gazed in the direction of the fog-covered temple. “I’m sorry, Hans. You did nothing wrong.”
“Your Highness…”
“What have I been doing here?”
“Come on, let’s go.” Goldof took Nashetania’s hand and pulled.
But she just staggered and made no move to follow. Her eyes were still fixed on a point in space as if she was lost in thought. “Wait a moment,” she said.
“What is it? What’s on your mind?” Despite Goldof’s impatience, he was determinedly loyal as he waited for Nashetania.
Maybe a minute passed, and then she suddenly broke her silence. “Ah-ha! ” Nashetania burst into laughter, startling Goldof. “Ah-ha! Ah-ha-ha, ah-ha-ha-ha! ”
“Your Highness, please calm down! What’s wrong?”
Nashetania continued chuckling for a while. When her laughter subsided, she suddenly grew quite calm and said, “I really haven’t been myself today. Too much has been going on, and I just don’t know about anything anymore. But I have calmed down. I am finally able to think clearly, Goldof.”
“Well…as long as you feel stable…,” he replied.
“I understand now. This is it.” Nashetania looked at him. “This is the first time I have ever experienced this. So this is what true anger feels like.”
“Your Highness…”
“Not that I have never been irritated before,” she said. “But I have never been angry in earnest. Now, for the first time, I know just what it means to be truly furious.” Nashetania smiled, and then she dashed off. The person wearing that smile was different from who she had been before. “I finally understand… So this is what it’s like. How do I express these feelings?”
“Your Highness…”
“Adlet…I trusted you… I trusted you.” Nashetania’s hand trembled as it grasped her sword. “This is lovely, isn’t it, Goldof! It’s been nothing but new experiences ever since I set out on this journey! And I will continue to encounter so many new things from now on, too!” Nashetania ran straight ahead, not turning back to look at Goldof. “I do so want to know! What will it feel like when I give in to anger and slice my enemy to shreds?”
Goldof was speechless as he watched Nashetania sprinting ahead of him.
Fremy was trying to kill Adlet. Chamo had restrained Hans, and Mora, Nashetania, and Goldof were all rushing toward Adlet’s position. As all this was transpiring, the seventh was thinking, I can’t say this is going well.
Initially, the seventh had expected that eliminating Adlet would be a simple matter. Adlet taking Fremy hostage had come as a shock, and the idea that the boy would be capable of evading the others for a full day thereafter hadn’t even been a consideration. Adlet had been nothing but surprises. His self-designated title of “the strongest man in the world” no longer rang entirely false.
But that was nothing more than a minor error in the seventh’s calculations. It had always been a matter of time before Adlet was dead. Even if he held out for an extra day or two, it still wouldn’t change anything.
What to do after slaying Adlet? Of course, Fremy would be the next to go. That should prove simple enough. Her allies would kill her of their own accord. Things would get a bit more difficult after that. The best course of action would be for the impostor to eliminate any individual with lingering doubts. If it seemed that opinions were divided, then instigating a confrontation in which two killed each other off made the most sense. Improvising as things unfolded rather than clinging to any partic
ular plan was the surest course.
Though the chances were low, there was the possibility that the impostor could become suspect. If that happened, then flight was one option. Two of the six Braves should be slain by that point, though, and that should prove good enough for this battle.
But if Adlet succeeded in stopping all their fighting and urged them to settle everything by talking, what then? That would just change the order of slaughter. The impostor would manipulate the conversation and kill Fremy and could do away with Adlet after that. While that situation could bring about certain difficulties, it probably wouldn’t be a big problem.
A famous strategist had once said the outcome of any battle was already 90 percent decided before it even began. The seventh reflected upon the inherent truth of that statement. When Adlet set foot in the temple, when the seventh had set in motion the trap that had generated the fog, all the while evading the notice of the entire group—that was when it had all been decided.
The seventh had just one worry. Once Adlet and Fremy were dead, when all the others realized that neither of the two had been the seventh, what expressions the Braves of the Six Flowers would wear! Would the laughter finally be irrepressible? It had been a desperate struggle to tamp down the snickering thus far.
“Fremy! Go back to the temple! If you go there, you’ll know that Mora is lying!” Adlet yelled as he fled through the forest.
Fremy did not reply. She just maintained pursuit, her gun trained on him. It was not so easy for her to attack him—her weapon was such that, once she fired one shot, she had to load another bullet to fire again. It was not possible for her to fire continuously. “So what?” she asked, taking aim at Adlet. “Mora may be lying, but that won’t change the fact that you’re the impostor.”
“Why do you think that? I—” The moment Adlet tried to turn around and contradict her, he was forced to throw himself to the ground. Fremy’s bullet passed over his head. Hot, sharp wind scorched his skin. If he took even a single hit, his body would be blown to pieces.
“I missed,” said Fremy, and she loaded another bullet. With a normal gun, she would have had to stuff the gunpowder down the muzzle and then pack it in with a stick. But Fremy kept her hand on the grip as she loaded the iron ball. Adlet had no idea how that gun was constructed. “Mora! You’re still not here yet?! Adlet is over here!” Fremy called.
How close was Mora? Adlet was running around at random with no idea which way he should go. He was naturally faster than Fremy. If he were to put some distance between them, he could get out of her line of sight.
But the moment she vanished behind him into the fog, he heard her cry, “I won’t let you get away!”
This time, she threw a bomb. Adlet leaped onto a tree branch. The explosion flattened the surrounding trees, and a second and third bomb arced toward him from beyond the smoke. He threw knives to intercept them. The wind of the blast and sparks roasted his body.
Running away wasn’t working out, either. She had far more firepower than he did, like a cannon-wielding warship fighting a single rowboat. Once again, Adlet was forced to reflect upon the fact that he was powerless. All he had that could be called weapons were his tiny sword, poison needles, throwing knives, smoke bombs, and a few piddling explosives that couldn’t compare to Fremy’s aresenal.
But even so, Adlet believed that he was the strongest man in the world.
Fremy flung bombs haphazardly, heedless of the damage. Adlet was bound to fail to intercept one of them eventually. He pushed off the tree branch and flew through the air, curling into a ball as he braced for impact.
“Oh, did I get him? will not be enough for me,” said Fremy. “I’m never satisfied until I can see clearly, with my own eyes, that my enemy is nothing but a lump of meat.”
If he fell to Fremy’s pursuit, it would be over. Before she could toss another bomb, Adlet threw one of his needles that caused intense pain.
“Urghk! ” It hit. He was lucky.
With Fremy frozen in her tracks, Adlet would be able to escape. But instead, he chose to stay. If he tried to run while still out of breath, his blood wouldn’t reach his brain, and he wasn’t going to survive this unless he used his head. What should he do now? Should he try to discover how the fog had been generated? Should he try to help Hans? The answer was neither.
It was Fremy. There was no way Adlet could win unless he could earn her trust. He would not run away. He would face her—he would face her mistrustful heart. “What makes you think I’m the impostor?” he called out.
The smoke was clearing. Adlet could see Fremy in front of him now. She yanked out the poison needle protruding from her right shoulder and threw it away. “Don’t you talk to me with that filthy mouth of yours.” She sounded furious.
But why was that? He hadn’t done anything to enrage her. At the same time, Adlet had thought of this as his chance to get to understand her. If he could discover why she was so livid, he could find a way to change her mind. “Answer my question, Fremy!” He raised his voice intentionally; attempting to pacify her would have the opposite effect.
“Because I can see who you really are. I can see you’re really just a cowardly con artist.”
“I told you to answer me,” he said.
“Because I can see the filthy motives behind the things you say, your clear attempts to string together what you think I want to hear in an attempt to deceive me.”
“I was being sincere! You don’t see anything!”
Fremy glared at Adlet as she created a gigantic bomb. She clearly intended to blow up him and everything around him, leaving nothing. Adlet restrained the urge to run, instead standing his ground.
“Liars always say the same thing,” said Fremy. “I trust you. I’ll protect you. I’m thinking of you. ” That was when Adlet saw the faint tears in her eyes. “No one will ever deceive me again,” she continued. “Nobody is going to protect me. I won’t even consider such a convenient idea. I will fight alone, live alone, and die alone.”
“Fremy…”
“I know now! I’ve felt it keenly on my body, on my skin! I know that if trusting someone is just going to result in betrayal, it’s better not to trust anyone!” she yelled, throwing the bomb.
As Adlet watched it coming toward him, he thought about Fremy’s past, about the time she’d been betrayed by those she loved. It wasn’t that she couldn’t trust people—she’d just made the firm decision that she wouldn’t, to avoid the possibility of future betrayal. But from another angle, that meant some part of her wanted to trust someone.
Adlet jumped back and threw a bomb at his feet. This one wasn’t smoke or tear gas: It was lethal. A backward retreat alone wouldn’t be sufficient to evade her explosives. The only way he could possibly avoid it was to blow himself backward riding the blast of an explosion of his own. He barely survived, earning full-body burns in exchange for not being pulverized.
Then Adlet heard a voice behind him. “Fremy! Is he dead yet?”
“Mora!” Adlet and Fremy cried out simultaneously.
Mora charged toward Adlet with violent speed. “Don’t use your bombs! Support me with your gun! I’ll finish him!”
Fremy tossed aside the bomb she had just manifested and raised her gun. Mora closed on Adlet, focusing into her gauntleted fists her intent to obliterate him.
Adlet stood, turned away from Fremy, and charged straight for Mora. Just before her fist connected, he crouched, and as he did, Fremy fired. He was completely defenseless for that one moment. There was no way he could block Fremy’s shot.
“!” But Adlet survived. The bullet made a high-pitched noise as it was repelled. Adlet had not been the one to intercept it. It had been Mora.
“Mora, why did you block it?” asked Fremy.
“Calm down,” said Mora. “Look at him.”
Adlet was on his hands and knees before Mora. He had thrown away his sword and had extended both his hands, palms up. It was a pose of submission. Fremy lowered her gun.
&n
bsp; Her expression utterly scornful, Mora said, “So you have finally surrendered. But it’s too late. Do not think you can survive.”
“We’re down one, too, after all,” said Fremy.
“But before you die, you will tell us everything,” said Mora. “Confess to us your plan and who is behind it.”
Adlet raised his head and asked, “Is Hans all right?” There was just one thing he was afraid of—that maybe Mora and Chamo really had beaten Hans half to death together.
Mora’s expression changed very slightly. From her discomposure, Adlet could tell that Hans was safe. “What are you talking about?” she said. “You are the one who hurt him.”
“As long as he’s safe.” Adlet did not alter his submissive pose. Mora’s fist was above his head. From that position, she needed only to swing downward to crush his skull.
“Then speak. Tell us the reason you allied yourself with the Evil God and how you obtained your counterfeit crest.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that. There’s just one thing I can say.”
“Then die,” said Mora.
The moment she raised her fist, Adlet yelled, “That now, I’m going to prove that Fremy is a real Brave!” Shocked, Mora’s hand stopped. And then she looked at Fremy.
Adlet couldn’t see behind his back, so he didn’t know what kind of expression Fremy had on her face. “Will you listen?” he asked. “Of course, even if you say no, I’m still gonna talk.”
Mora did not reply. Instead, Fremy asked, “What is this about?”
So you will listen , thought Adlet, and he continued. “I’ll assume one thing—that the one who activated the barrier was one of the seven of us who bear the Crest of the Six Flowers. We have no grounds to say that anyone else entered the temple. I have no time, so I’ll leave out the basis for that.”
“You are the impostor. That is proof enough,” said Mora. He could hear clear agitation in her words. Adlet deliberately ignored her.
“That’s no reason to pull out your weapons. Restrain yourself, be quiet, and watch,” said Adlet as he began rummaging through a pouch on his belt with his left hand. He pulled out a small iron bottle and set it down in front of him. “This is a special substance that my master created. It’s valuable. Use it carefully.”
Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers, Vol. 1 Page 18