The Asterisk War, Vol. 3: The Phoenix War Dance

by Yuu Miyazaki

  “Her name is…Irene Urzaiz,” Ayato read, by the picture of a female student with a razor’s edge glare and a dauntless smile.

  The central school building of the Le Wolfe Black Institute could be most succinctly described with the word fortress. It was rough and imposing, an enormous mass of metal built to project power and oppressive might.

  Contrary to popular opinion, there was no sense of lawless degeneracy here. Because it was often seen as the polar opposite of St. Gallardworth, the school of discipline and order—and perhaps also because of the delinquent students and the redevelopment area they used as their base—many thought of Le Wolfe as some terribly dilapidated place. The actual situation was somewhat different.

  It was true that rules were all but nonexistent in Le Wolfe, and that outsiders called it a den of mavericks. There was one imperative here, however, which always stood true: absolute submission to the strong.

  In LeWolfe, power was everything, and victory was respected above all else. This value system served to temper the actions of the students. A total lack of inhibitions risked drawing the ire of someone stronger.

  Another common stereotype was that LeWolfe students were all no better than a pack of violent and dangerous animals.

  That, too, was a grave misunderstanding. Such a statement described only some eighty or ninety percent of the student body. Even the most conservative estimate suggested that at least ten percent of Le Wolfe aspired to complete their studies responsibly.

  Korona Kashimaru, who was among that ten percent, often had the urge to shout as much at the top of her lungs. All the time, in fact, but she had never once acted on it.

  “The hell are you doing, Korona? Catch up.”

  “Oh, s-sorry! Coming!”

  She hurriedly trotted up to the male student walking ahead of her.

  The boy who had scolded her was Dirk Eberwein, the first non-Genestella in the history of the Le Wolfe Black Institute to reach the rank of student council president.

  There was a tendency to cast fighters from Le Wolfe as the bad guys in the Festa, so they were not well-liked; but the most hated, the most utterly despised student at the entire Institute was none other than Dirk.

  Without ever dirtying his hands, he manipulated others like pieces on a chess board to advance his plots from the shadows—or such was his reputation, which could not be any nastier. More evidence of his unpopularity lay in how other students had labeled him the Devious King, although he was not even a ranked fighter.

  Still, Korona did not think that Dirk was such a terrible person.

  It was true that he had a foul mouth and a worse attitude. He was perpetually in a bad mood, and she had never seen him let the corners of his mouth soften, let alone smile. Still, Korona was indebted to him. If he was the kind of person everyone said he was, would he have bothered to take her on as his secretary? She, a talentless, airheaded girl who had entered Le Wolfe purely due to a mix-up?

  Without Dirk’s protection, a helpless student like her would have wound up long ago in the lowest caste of the school, destined for nothing but exploitation.

  I can’t say he’s a good person, based on the things he does. Still, I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone says he is…

  Perhaps aware of Korona’s thoughts, or perhaps not, somehow Dirk walked through the dank, dreary hallway without a word. They were in a high-security area where ordinary students were not allowed to enter.

  Huh? Wait, this is the way to—

  The color drained from her face.

  “Um, Mr. President…? Are we going…to the…?”

  “What? We’re going to the penalty rooms, obviously.”

  “We really are?!”

  The penalty rooms were a dungeon-like space where students were punished for their extreme transgressions. It housed a collection of the worst and most violent students of Le Wolfe, where an unremarkable citizen like Korona had no reason to set foot—and she would be quite happy to keep it that way.

  But Dirk passed through one security measure after another into the inner sanctum. On either side of the narrow passageway were thick walls, as if to separate rooms, but there were solely number plates with no visible doors. At the entrance, a guard had offered to accompany them only to receive a peevish refusal from Dirk. Korona had never been so frightened.

  Yells and jeers and banging on walls clamoring through the passageway just added to her apprehension. A squeaky whimper escaped her.

  Dirk was shorter than she was, and Korona did her best to hide behind him as she followed. Despite being a Genestella, she was terrified, but Dirk, an ordinary human, did not seem bothered in the least.

  Finally, he stopped at a certain room.

  He raised his hand to the marker to bring up a console. After he punched in a pass code, the wall facing the passageway faded, then disappeared. Since the number plate itself remained suspended in midair, Korona gathered that the wall was still there, but some mechanism had made it transparent.

  “Hey, you crazy broad. You alive in there?”

  When Dirk called into the space, some sixty square feet, Korona could sense movement. The room had no light, and she could only vaguely see what was inside, but she made out a figure sitting against the far wall.

  “I was wondering who’d visit me, and it’s you? What the hell brought you all the way down here?” The manner of speech was as uncouth as Dirk’s, but the voice was higher in pitch—a female student.

  Straining her eyes, Korona was finally able to make out the figure in the dungeon.

  Her hands chained to the wall, she sat in her uniform with her legs unabashedly open. She wore a long scarf wrapped around her neck, although it was summer, and the lack of a shirt beneath her jacket completed the mismatched look.

  While Korona stared curiously at the girl’s unusual attire, she received a sharp glare from angular, wolfish eyes. Intimidated, she fell back a step.

  “I’ve got a little favor to ask you,” Dirk said.

  “Ha!” the girl scoffed loudly. “A favor? An order, you mean. If you tell me to do something I can’t exactly refuse.”

  “If you’ll do it, I can let you out right now.”

  “Hold up, you didn’t even bring me anything? I’m starvin’ to death over here. Although, maybe that little girl right there would do.”

  “Eep!” Korona ran behind Dirk and made herself even smaller.

  “Well? You wanna take the offer or not?” Dirk asked, ignoring the other student’s jeer.

  “Yeah, fine… So? What d’you want me to do?”

  “It’s nothing much. I want you to crush a Seidoukan brat. Make it so he never fights again. A duel would work fine, but the Phoenix happens to be coming up. You’ll fight him there. Korona, you took care of her registration?”

  “Huh? Oh—Yes!” The sudden attention startled her, but she nodded emphatically.

  She remembered filling out some registration paperwork at Dirk’s request earlier. Now she understood what it was for. It had never crossed her mind that he hadn’t spoken to the contestant first.

  “You want me to fight in the Phoenix?”

  “He could decline a duel, but not a Festa match,” Dirk said, then leaned in. “You should be able to get to the main tournament easily. He should, too. You’ll match up against each other sooner or later. Crush him. You don’t need to win.” The last sentence resonated like a voice from the depths of an abyss.

  A chill ran down Korona’s spine.

  “…But, hey, if you can win it all, then go ahead and do that, too.”

  “You say it like it’s so damn easy,” the girl complained, but her shoulders shook with laughter. It made her chains jangle. “I got a few questions, though.”

  “Shoot.”

  “First off. If you’re after this kid, why not use the Cats? Why’d you come to me?”

  “Because you’re the best choice for the Festa. Besides, the Cats are busy—both Silver Eyes and Gold Eyes. And using them would cost m
e.”

  “Is that it?”

  “The guy’s also number one at Seidoukan. If I use the Cats and they trace it back to me, there might be trouble. I want something as close to legitimate as possible for this job.”

  The girl cackled. “Seidoukan’s top ranked? Are you shitting me? That’s who you want me to fight?”

  “Would I ask you if I didn’t think you could pull it off?”

  The girl bowed her head quietly in thought, then raised it again. “Okay, second question. Why are you after this kid?”

  The question caught Dirk off guard, or so his tongue click suggested. He had a habit of making the sound when he was annoyed. “I’m not obligated to tell you that… Whatever. You ever heard of the Ser Veresta?”

  “Huh? What the hell’s that?”

  “Seidoukan’s Orga Lux. He isn’t using it to its full potential yet, but if I leave him alone he could cause problems later. That’s why I want to crush him now.”

  “Heh—an Orga Lux, huh? Must be some weapon if you’re afraid of it.”

  “…Anyone who saw that thing firsthand would be,” Dirk spat under his breath. He seemed to be convincing himself rather than the girl.

  “Fine. Last question—Well, more like I wanna double-check.” She fixed a penetrating gaze on him. “You haven’t let anyone touch her, have you?”

  “’Course not. I always honor my contracts, you know that.” Dirk nodded, completely unaffected. Korona, on the other hand, wanted to flinch just standing near the intense exchange.

  Dirk and the detainee stared each other down until the latter turned away.

  “Well, it’s no fun being stuck in a place like this just for making a little scene at a casino. I’ll take the job, Dirk Eberwein.”

  “Took you long enough, Urzaiz,” Dirk grumbled, looking bored, then entered another sequence into the optical keyboard.

  The chains released with a clang, and Irene stood up and let out a good yawn. “Ahh… Finally,” she murmured, loudly cracking her shoulders.

  She was quite tall, and her lithe and well-proportioned body called to mind a carnivorous animal.

  “Now, first things first. I gotta get me something to eat.” Irene’s devilish grin revealed two long, sharp fangs.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE PHOENIX

  The main arena in the central district of Asterisk was known as the Sirius Dome.

  The opening ceremonies for the twenty-fifth Festa season were already underway at the Dome, one of the eleven large-and medium-sized arenas that hosted the event.

  Ayato had once seen the building from the front when Julis had shown him around, but this was his first time setting foot inside.

  The stage in the Sirius Dome was so large that it could hold all of the Festa’s contestants and still have room left over. The actual fights would be restricted to a smaller area, but for the opening ceremonies, the organizers were making full use of its size. The contestants were lined up, organized by school, with some spaces for absentees. This was especially apparent for Le Wolfe. Gallardworth, in stark contrast, had no gaps in their formation.

  “Wow, this is a ton of people.”

  Ayato had not quite meant to say that aloud, but Julis heard and answered with a mischievous smile. “Are you talking about the competition?” She indicated their surroundings. “…Or the crowd?”

  The spectators were packed around the stage, every possible seat filled.

  “Both, I guess,” Ayato said with a nervous laugh.

  He had been told that the arena could host one hundred thousand people, but seeing it for himself was something else. He looked up at the towering decks of seats and thought that the contestants must look like so many tiny figurines to those sitting at the highest level.

  He told Julis as much in a whisper, and she shrugged theatrically. “They’ll set up a giant air-screen for the upper levels during the games. If they’re too far to see the stage, they can still watch the fights that way.”

  “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of coming all this way?”

  “I don’t understand it, either, but the important thing is to be here, apparently.”

  I guess that’s how it is, Ayato thought, turning his gaze forward again.

  The lines of contestants fanned out around the podium in front. The mayor of Asterisk had finished making his remarks, and a good-looking man had just taken his place.

  “Good morning, everyone. I’m thrilled that I will be able to see your valiant contests again this year. And to those of you who have only arrived here in Asterisk in the past year, allow me to greet you for the first time. I am the chairman of the Executive Committee for the Festa, Madiath Mesa,” he told the contestants in a clear, calm voice while flashing an affable smile.

  “That’s the chairman of the Executive Committee?” Ayato asked Julis. “He looks pretty young.”

  The man had to be in his early thirties. His position as chairman effectively made him the highest authority running the Festa, so it followed that he was an executive member of one of the integrated enterprise foundations. Despite this, he was clearly younger than Kirin’s uncle Kouichirou.

  With chiseled features and a cheerful tone, he also projected an easy confidence. Even from a distance, Ayato could tell he possessed a hard-trained physique—and that he was a Genestella.

  “Seidoukan is Madiath Mesa’s alma mater.” Julis sighed at Ayato’s ignorance. “I don’t remember how old he is, but you’re right, he isn’t very. He’s not even forty. And he’s quite the fighter himself—he won the Phoenix when he was a student.”

  “I see. That explains it…”

  Ayato could sense the chairman’s quiet, heavy prana, even in its inactive state.

  “He’s been quite effective as the committee chairman,” Julis went on. “I think he assumed the position a few years ago, but he’s led the pro-reform faction changing the regulations and bringing about new rules and events. All of the changes have been well-received, too.”

  “If he’s an alum from our school, that means he’s an executive at Galaxy, right?”

  “On paper, yes.”

  “On paper?” Ayato looked at her curiously.

  “When he won the Phoenix, Madiath Mesa wished to join the Executive Committee upon his graduation,” Julis replied wearily.

  “Huh. I didn’t know you could ask for something like that.”

  One of the fundamental facts of the Festa was that the integrated enterprise foundation grants any wish of the champion. Still, Ayato imagined the people in charge were less than pleased to hear a wish that would directly affect their own administration.

  “Being a part of the committee doesn’t mean you’ll leave a mark, necessarily,” Julis said. “But I’ve heard he’s been working to make connections since he was a student. I’ve met him a few times. He’s not someone to take lightly, I will say that.”

  “Hmm.” Ayato studied the chairman.

  And then, Madiath’s gaze caught his—or so he thought.

  Huh…?

  The moment came and went so quickly that Ayato could not be sure it had actually happened.

  On the podium, Madiath continued, “Now, I could drone on about how exciting this all is, but I’d only lose your interest. Allow me to explain one significant change to the regulations, and I’ll end my remarks there. We have notified each school of this change, so I’m sure that some of you already know about it.”

  Seeing how Madiath continued his speech as if nothing had happened, Ayato wondered again whether he had been imagining things.

  “We have never placed any restrictions on Luxes for the Festa, but technology advances quickly. There are now things we must address. I’m speaking in particular about sentient machines, and whether such devices can be treated as weapons.”

  The person who reacted first to Madiath’s words was, naturally, Saya.

  In just a few moments she had gone from nodding off to focusing on the podium, lips pursed.

  “Our core ph
ilosophy is to give you, the contestants, as much freedom as possible. Still, if we don’t address this subject at all, it would be possible for a contestant to bring in multiple machines. That would hardly be fair, I think. Well, unless it’s the ability of a Strega or Dante, of course.” With a practiced air, Madiath continued his meticulous explanation at a measured pace. “At the same time, we felt it would be out of the question to limit the number of weapons. We could simply ban the use of machines as weapons but, as I said, our desire is not to add short-sighted restrictions. We feel that that would lead to stagnation, and eventually to decline. Therefore—and I want you all to understand that this is an interim measure to guide the debate for how to deal with this issue in future tournaments… Thus, we decided, for this tournament, to allow for their use as proxy fighters.”

  The whole arena erupted in murmurs. The spectators were as intrigued as the participants.

  Madiath waited for them to quiet before he continued. “I’m sure that an intelligent bunch such as yourselves will understand that this measure does not give an advantage to any one school, but is meant to guarantee the fairness of the games in the near future and onward. I hope we can have your faith in our unremitting efforts to prepare the best path forward for you, the contestants.”

  The chairman then turned to the seated crowd and spread his arms wide. “And to all of you, the fans—Your love and support make the Festa possible! This is just one step in the evolution of the games, and I hope you’re as excited for it as we are. The Festa will always be the highest form of entertainment in the world, the stage for incomparable excitement and drama, the contest that shakes your very soul!”

  With his forceful proclamation, the crowd burst into a storm of applause.

  Ayato recalled what Claudia had told him: The audience hardly cared about details as long as they were entertained, and they tended to welcome any changes as more interesting. That certainly seemed to be the case today.

  On the other hand, the reaction from the students onstage was quite cool. This was only natural, as they now had one more variable to consider.