by Fujino Omori
Ignoring every plea, eight dark shadows fell over the large Amazon.
“UW—UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
A chilling scream echoed through the smoky skies of the Pleasure Quarter.
“…She’s not coming after me?”
Bell regained his bearings during the fall and landed safely on the roof of a midsize brothel behind the palace. He looked up toward the top of the tallest tower, wondering why he didn’t have company.
Bell stood with the broadsword ready, beads of light still flashing around his body. There was no movement coming from the highest point of the palace, so Bell slowly, cautiously lowered his weapon.
That was when Bell noticed that he was surrounded by a black shroud of smoke emerging from the Pleasure Quarter. His battle with a top-class adventurer had prevented him from seeing any of the flames or picking up on any of the magical energy residues hanging in the air like static electricity. It went without saying that this view was about the last thing he expected to see.
That could explain why Phryne dropped her pursuit—she’d gone to deal with this new threat.
In that case…Bell thought to himself as he jumped off the roof.
He could use this chaos and confusion to rescue Haruhime. Landing on the outside of the main tower, he set his sights on the stone bridge.
Taking advantage of every smidgen of the strength and speed boost of his temporary Level 4 Status, he jumped from awning to awning and used the stones that jutted out from the tower’s exterior to ascend to the bridge that extended from the fortieth floor of the tower. While his ears registered the sounds of battle surrounding him, Bell focused all his energy into making it across the stone bridge as quickly as possible.
The Floating Garden was dead silent the moment he arrived.
All the injured Berbera, who had been lying motionless on the floor, were gone. An uneasy stillness had settled in under the night sky. Even the blue cloud of light emanating from the stones had become thin and wispy. Either too many of the lunatic light–infused stone slabs had been destroyed or too much of the moon’s light was blocked by the cloud cover to maintain a constant glow.
Bell took a few steps into the scarred battlefield. Charred fragments of stone were scattered all over the place and large swaths of the floor were missing. The boy weaved his way through the debris until…
There she was, lying at the foot of the altar, alone.
“…So you’re here.”
A single Amazonian warrior stood up from behind the altar. Aisha’s long hair swayed around her shoulders as she turned to face Bell.
Haruhime lay right next to her. Unconscious, she had been positioned comfortably against the stone altar.
It was almost as if Aisha had been waiting for Bell, knowing he would return. The boy didn’t say anything, only continued to walk toward them. Lifting his heavily damaged broadsword into position, he came to a stop a few meders in front of Aisha and Haruhime.
The tip of Aisha’s wooden blade had been thrust into the floor, sticking straight up. Aisha stood next to it, arms crossed in front of her chest as she listened to Bell’s decree.
“I’m taking Haruhime with me.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. Aisha narrowed her eyes and cocked an eyebrow.
“…Now that’s more like it.”
The face of a man with conviction—Bell finally had the look of a determined male, a hero.
Aisha couldn’t have been happier.
“But, you know, I can’t just say ‘go ahead’ and leave you to it.”
She curled her lips into a dauntless smile and put her hands on her hips.
Aisha’s long black hair and minimal dark-purple clothing shook from side to side as she dug her heel into the floor.
“Rules of the familia must be obeyed, it’s in our blood…You know what I mean?”
“…”
The power of a god’s Blessing, ichor, flowed in their veins. It also prevented them from easily escaping from the will of their god.
No matter how much pain the group caused them, no matter how many outsiders tried to assist them, the chances of successfully breaking free were almost nil. Aisha reminded Bell of that fact.
Bell knew, but there was nothing to say.
“Oh yeah, never got a chance to ask. Why did you go this far? Got a thing for her?”
A bit of humor was laced into her voice. Aisha grinned again and waited for Bell’s next words.
The boy’s gaze fell to the ground, but he’d opened his mouth to speak.
“…Being a prostitute was too painful for Miss Haruhime. So I decided to help her.”
“…Don’t know what gave you that idea, but she’s a virgin who doesn’t know her way around a man.”
“Eh?”
Bell blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard that right.
“She’d always pass out right before the main event. The sight of male skin made her lightheaded, the dimwit.”
“…”
“Even just the other night, she keeled over onto the chest of a customer. Totally killed the mood and the guy didn’t pay.”
Bell had a feeling he knew exactly what she was talking about.
The night they first met, the same thing happened when she saw his muscles…
“B-but she said she’d given herself many times…to many different men.”
“Maybe she was having some frisky dreams after passing out. Horny li’l fox.”
Aisha was growing bored. Bell couldn’t say anything more as he cast his gaze on the unconscious girl lying next to the altar.
“…Or perhaps she’s been through so much that she can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality anymore.”
“!”
Kicked out of her own house and forcefully removed from her homeland.
Brought into a city where she didn’t know anyone or anything and sold to the highest bidder. Haruhime’s life had been a series of tragedies one after another.
Unwillingly becoming a prostitute, exposing her skin and being touched.
She had always been oppressed. Losing everything she knew in an instant and trapped in a cycle of darkness, Haruhime would have been consumed by despair.
Her life was a living nightmare.
With no escape, it was plausible she’d forgotten the difference between dream and memory.
All the more reason to save her from this.
To remove from the lineup the girl with eyes longing for the outside world.
“—She’s worth a lot, even as a crappy prostitute.”
Aisha’s tone changed once again as Bell’s determination grew by the second.
“Say she did leave this familia, others would eventually learn what she can do and try the same ritual. She’s better off with us than some other dirtbags…Lady Ishtar’s curse keeps telling me, don’t let her go. So you know.”
Aisha cracked the knuckles in her right hand as she spoke.
All the while, her eyes were asking one question: Can you protect her?
Plucking her sword out of the ground with her right hand, Aisha pointed the tip of the weapon directly at the still-sparkling Bell.
“Brace up. When a man rescues a woman, it’s gotta be by force.”
Bell could tell by Aisha’s smile; he had no choice.
Just as his opponent wanted, Bell gripped his broadsword with both hands and took a defensive stance.
Bell and Aisha stared each other down, the distant sounds of roaring flames and screams wafting up from the Pleasure Quarter below.
“One minute.”
Aisha said out of the blue.
“I didn’t just look after Haruhime around here, she’s been in my battle party. I know that magic like the back of my hand. Trust me, you’ve got only one minute.”
She could tell just by looking at the flickering lights around the boy. Uchide no Kozuchi was about to wear off.
The lights were fading out one by one. She’d seen
it and experienced it herself more times than she could count in the Dungeon. Haruhime might have poured all of her Mind into casting the Level Boost on Bell, but it wasn’t going to last much longer.
Bell looked around at the lights that bathed his body in warmth.
“Attack right now, and you’d wipe the floor with me before saving yer girl.”
Aisha jerked her chin toward Haruhime.
Bell kept his eyes trained on Aisha but only lifted the broadsword to protect himself. His feet stayed firmly planted in place.
Moments passed in silence.
“Such a moron…”
Aisha arrogantly narrowed her eyes, clearly put off by Bell’s righteousness.
The light around Bell’s body faded even further as the two of them locked eyes. The air around the two adventurers was so thick, even the breeze slowed to a crawl.
A loud crack came from the damaged stone pillar behind the altar. The last of the beads of light faded out of existence at the same moment that a piece of stone fell from the pillar and crashed to the floor.
The opening bell. The two warriors charged forward, weapons flashing in starlight.
“But—I don’t got a problem with it!”
Wood and metal slammed together; Aisha’s grin reflected off the broadsword.
Bell kept his eyes, burning with resolve, locked on his opponent.
More echoes pierced the night as the warrior prostitute and the white-haired boy exchanged blows at high speed.
“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
Their bodies overlapped, weapons clashed. Aisha couldn’t contain her excitement as she drove her own weapon forward and laughed at the top of her lungs.
The endless collisions and eruptions of sparks brought her a feeling of joy she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“This! This is why I can’t keep away from real men!”
Blades pressed against each other, Aisha leaned in and smiled from ear to ear in front of Bell.
“Arrogant, violent, strong…!”
Bell’s body, Bell’s glare, Bell’s power—she took it all.
Joyous ecstasy made her entire body shake with anticipation.
“Only real men can get a woman’s blood boiling!”
Aisha shouted as she raised her weapon high above her head and brought it down with tremendous force.
Bell stepped out of the way and paid no attention to the debris flying past his face as he stepped into his own counterattack.
She flipped away, and Bell kicked off the floor to pursue her. Picking up speed, the two traded even more blows as they raced around the Floating Garden.
Until finally, Aisha’s elation reached that point at which her body couldn’t stand the heat swelling within her.
“—Come, reckless conqueror!”
And she started casting.
Panicked footsteps rushed up the last set of stairs. Quick, hurried breaths echoed inside the thin stairwell.
Cool air caressed her sweat-covered body, distant flames illuminating her silhouette in the night.
A view of the red shell of the Pleasure Quarter opened up beneath her as she ran through the aftermath of an epic battle.
“How far are you going to run, Ishtar?”
“F-Freya…?!”
Ishtar’s terror-filled eyes looked over her shoulder and saw the first strands of Freya’s silver hair emerge from the eastern stairwell right behind her.
The moment the goddess’s piercing silver eyes met hers, Ishtar’s grudge against the goddess faded away and was replaced by fear.
Her territory in ruins, entire familia scattered, everything she’d worked so hard to create was being pulled out from under her by this extraordinary deity. Tripping over chunks of stone, getting back up, running, looking over her shoulder again and tripping, Ishtar repeated the cycle over and over in a desperate attempt to escape from Freya’s wrath. The garden she knew had been torn to shreds by an ax and broadsword. She darted her way toward her private quarters, her last possible safe haven at the highest point of her palace’s tallest tower.
“No…!!”
She discovered a fatal flaw in her plan.
The path that would lead her to safety wasn’t beyond her trees and water features. That part of the garden had been completely destroyed. Only a stark cliff remained in its place. Ishtar had no way of knowing that it was Phryne who put it there.
She froze in place, looking down at the incredibly long drop below. Ker-tap, ker-tap. Freya had arrived.
“Thus ends our game of tag. Enough is enough.”
“HYEEEEEE…!”
Turning to face her pursuer, Ishtar struggled to control the scream of fear escaping from her lungs.
There was another crater directly behind Freya in Ishtar’s line of sight. Bell had created this one toward the end of his mad rush.
Ishtar and Freya stood face-to-face, no more than ten steps between them.
“I-it was just a little tease, Freya. I had no idea you cared so much for that boy…I-I won’t do it again, I swear.”
None of her followers remained inside the palace. Ottar’s team had wiped them out.
Without any of her pawns to play, Ishtar resorted to asking for forgiveness.
A light breeze blew between them, making Freya’s silver locks dance around her wicked smile.
“Ishtar? Your little pranks up until now have been laughable…but this went over the line. You will not be forgiven.”
Freya’s eyes showed no emotion, and yet her smile grew.
“I will make that boy mine.”
Flares of anger flashed through her silver pupils, but she kept smiling.
“I will not forgive any woman who tries to take what is rightfully mine.”
Freya’s desire to have sole possession of Bell had been brought to bear. Ishtar was lost for words.
It was as if she were looking into a mirror. The same fires of jealousy and hatred that burned within Ishtar were now looking back at her in the form of Freya’s obsession with Bell.
Eyes narrowing, Freya’s lips started moving once again.
“This—is your final hour.”
The knowledge of her fate made Ishtar’s face turn white as a ghost.
“—Concurrent Casting?!”
Bell couldn’t contain his surprise as his ears picked up the unmistakable melody of the trigger spell between the constant collisions of their blades.
“Masculine warrior, strong soldier, greedy and unjust hero!”
Every word was clear, pulsing with controlled magical energy as her lips moved in rhythm with her stride.
Slicing forward with her wooden sword, meeting Bell’s broadsword head-on, all the while not missing a beat of her trigger spell, Aisha was pulling out all the stops.
Offense, movement, evasion, and defense—not a single attribute of her fighting style suffered. It was as if Antianeira were giving a street performance, dancing and singing for an audience. Mastering the complex and dangerous Concurrent Casting was proof that this Berbera was indeed stronger than Hyacinthus.
“Prove your desire for the Empress’s throne!”
—Not good. Bell’s mind raced.
Willing his arms to move faster, Bell upped the pressure on Aisha. While he did manage to slice off the very end of her ponytail, none of his strikes hit home. He couldn’t even force her onto the defensive. Her long legs kept Bell from entering point-blank range as she led him back to the center of the Floating Garden. He pursued her to the best of his ability, but several hours of running for his life and intense combat were taking their toll.
“Satisfy my body, penetrate and kill it to show your worth!”
At this rate…?
Every syllable of her trigger spell made another bead of sweat roll down his face.
He was in danger of being caught up in her Magic. Becoming even more desperate, Bell raised the broadsword high and brought it down in a large arc, only to have it rejected by Aisha’s heel. The Ama
zon kept spinning, jumped into the air, and nailed Bell in the face with the same foot.
“Gwah!”
Bell was knocked backward on impact.
“My famished blade is Hipporyute!”
Aisha completed her trigger spell as the space between the two fighters opened for a few vital seconds.
Bell regained his feet, eyes on his opponent. Having never seen the spell before, he had no idea what was coming his way. He shifted his weight to dodge the attack—when he realized where he was in the Floating Garden.
The very center, in front of the altar, right in front of the unconscious Haruhime.
If he avoided Aisha’s spell, Haruhime would take a direct hit.
His eyes snapped back to Aisha, unsure if she would actually use the spell knowing that Haruhime was in the line of fire. Bell forgot to breathe once he saw the look in her eyes.
Show me you’re can protect her.
Bell could feel it in her gaze.
If you’re gonna take her, then prove you can.
Seeing the determination in Aisha’s eyes—Bell knew what he had to do.
“!!”
“Argonaut.”
He started the charge in the face of an attack he could not avoid.
White specks of light started to swirl around the broadsword in preparation to stop Aisha’s full power.
“P-please, I beseech you!”
Freya took a step forward. Ishtar shifted backward as far as possible, heel against the cliff, and screamed with everything she had.
Eyes open wide, Ishtar caught a glimpse directly behind the other Goddess of Beauty of the scar in her garden created by Bell.
Suddenly, smack! A hand appeared from beneath and took hold of the outer layer of stone. Next, the head of the badly injured but handsome young man with tan skin popped above the surface.
It was Tammuz. Despite his still-bleeding wounds, no doubt inflicted by someone in Ottar’s battle party, the faithful servant had returned to his mistress in her time of need.
There was hope! Ishtar hid the joy in her heart and desperately tried to buy him some time.
“Freya, I’ll tell you something interesting!”
Tammuz was now halfway onto the roof.