The Asterisk War, Vol. 10: Conquering Dragons and Knights

by Yuu Miyazaki

  “Lamina Mortis…”

  “And this is Varda, my associate,” he added, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  Varda, expressionless, immediately brushed that hand aside, glaring up at her companion.

  “Hurry up and get it over with. I have other things to do.”

  “All right, all right, there’s no need to be in such a hurry,” Mortis said with a shrug and a smirk.

  “…What do you want with me?” Ayato asked, tightening his grip on the Ser Veresta’s activator so he could act at a moment’s notice.

  “Oh, it’s nothing major. I wanted to give you a hand.”

  “Give me a hand?” Ayato furrowed his brow.

  “As things stand, your team is in a bad place ahead of tomorrow’s championship. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “—!” All of a sudden, Ayato released his energy, activating the Ser Veresta—but for some reason, its blade was quivering slightly, and it seemed to be giving off a faint noise. It almost seemed as it if was trying to warn him of something.

  It’s reacting to them…?

  “Speaking for myself, I’m on your side here. I’d only be too happy to see you take the crown at this year’s Gryps,” the man continued. A Lux had appeared in his hands, too, from which a huge crimson blade slowly emerged.

  No…

  It was no regular Lux. Ayato had never seen it before in person, but staring at it now, he couldn’t be surer.

  It was an Orga Lux, and like his own Ser Veresta, one of the famed Four Colored Runeswords.

  “…The Raksha-Nada!”

  The Blade of Red Mist was supposed to have been sealed away. Ayato had no idea why it was in the possession of the man in front of him, but this was no time to worry about that.

  The glowing weapon, like a sudden gale, came rushing toward him.

  Taken aback by the sudden ferocity of the attack, Ayato hurried to defend himself with the Ser Veresta.

  “Ugh…!”

  The impact was heavy—and so powerful as to leave his arms numb. The paving stones at his feet began to crack as he braced to keep himself from being overcome.

  “How is this supposed to be giving me a hand?!” Ayato shouted.

  Their swords still locked, Lamina Mortis said nothing, merely flashing him a composed smile, until all of a sudden, he pulled away and lashed out from another direction.

  Ayato managed to dodge the oncoming crimson blur, but Mortis quickly flowed into a second, then a third attack, forcing him to remain on the defensive.

  Both the Raksha-Nada and the Ser Veresta were relatively large weapons, so there could be little denying that Lamina Mortis, with his superior physique, had the advantage.

  On top of that, he was more skilled at a technical level, too.

  Damn it… Why do they all have to come at once?!

  Yesterday, it had been Bujinsai Yabuki, today, Xiaohui Wu, and now this guy—each far stronger than he was.

  Moreover, his current opponent seemed to be no less formidable than Xiaohui Wu. Ayato was having a hard time even gauging the depths of his abilities.

  “Why are you doing this?!” Ayato demanded over the clashing of their blades.

  Lamina Mortis’s lips curled in a faint smile. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m giving you a hand,” he answered calmly.

  Ayato was sure he had heard that voice before, but to his frustration, his memories just wouldn’t piece together.

  “Then, stop this! I don’t have any reason to fight you!” Ayato called out as he repelled the Raksha-Nada once more and took a few steps back.

  His breathing ragged, he glanced at his surroundings. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be anyone else around. In that case, escape was always an option.

  Given the match tomorrow, he couldn’t afford to waste any more energy.

  “Hmm, no reason, you say…? Very well. Then how about this?” Lamina Mortis said softly as he lowered the Raksha-Nada. “It was I who cut down your sister.”

  “—!” At that moment, Ayato’s vision turned bloodred. “What did you just say?” His body trembled as an uncontrollable ferocity began to well up from deep inside him.

  “I was a regular contestant in the Eclipse. Then, six years ago, I faced your sister in the arena… I’m sure you know the rest.”

  Ayato didn’t even wait for him to finish before launching himself toward the man.

  He shortened the distance between them in the blink of an eye, slashing downward from above.

  “What do we have here…?” There was a touch of admiration in Lamina Mortis’s voice as he parried the attack.

  “Keep talking! Tell me what happened…!”

  “Heh-heh, impressive! So you know enough to keep your anger in check, letting it fuel but not overcome you. Haru trained you well.”

  The man’s baiting, however, only managed to inflame Ayato’s rage further, leading him to lash out with a flurry of thrusts and slashes.

  “But now that it’s come to this…,” Mortis murmured under his breath as he effortlessly parried each and every attack. “I suppose I have no choice…”

  Ayato ground his teeth together in rage as he made the Ser Veresta move faster still—yet, the blade didn’t even come close to grazing his opponent.

  “Argh!”

  “What’s stopping you? Strike me down. If you defeat me, you’ll finally be able to learn everything you want to know, won’t you?” Mortis called out, holding the Raksha-Nada in one hand.

  His voice sounded almost as if he were trying to test him.

  But no, this isn’t a test…

  Ayato drove the thought from his mind. He had to keep his focus on what was in front of him. If he divided his attention, that would be the end for him.

  He had already released his full energy once today. He still had a little left in him, but he wouldn’t be able to drag it out.

  In that case…

  He knew it was a reckless move, but he stepped forward anyway.

  “Amagiri Shinmei Style, Middle Technique—Nine-Fanged Blade!”

  A ninefold sequence of five thrusts and four slashing strikes.

  “Oh?” Lamina Mortis, however, parried each of the attacks single-handed.

  Not only that, but no sooner had Ayato completed the technique than his opponent drove a powerful kick into his abdomen, sending him crashing across the paving stones.

  “Ughn…!”

  He picked himself up immediately, but his breathing was ragged, his heart racing.

  His opponent was too strong. Exhausted from consecutive battles, Ayato was on the verge of being overpowered.

  Even so, I can’t let this chance go!

  He mustered his remaining strength, bracing himself with the Ser Veresta, when he noticed that the blade was once again trembling and emitting that faint noise.

  “Huh…?”

  “What…?”

  Lamina Mortis muttered as well, glancing at his own blade.

  And that was when—

  “Now, what do we have here?”

  —Ayato followed the relaxed voice that had come from the edge of the courtyard to see a young man armed with a burning-white Orga Lux strolling toward them.

  CHAPTER 6

  LIFTING THE CURTAIN

  “Ernest Fairclough…” Ayato stared in surprise at the figure of the approaching young man.

  Ernest, the Lei-Glems clasped tightly in his hand, came to a stop beside him with a charismatic smile.

  “What a coincidence, Amagiri. I didn’t think I’d find you in a place like this. Now then,” he began, his expression turning serious as he cast his gaze toward Mortis. “What’s going on here?”

  His voice was much colder than Ayato was used to hearing, and Ayato found himself swallowing his breath at the intimidating aura radiating from him.

  So this is what Pendragon is like when he’s serious… He’s a completely different person than at the Gran Colosseo.

  Lamina Mortis, however, completely unperturbed, merel
y called out to Varda: “I thought I asked you to clear this place out?”

  “…Don’t be unreasonable,” she answered in an almost-mechanical voice. “You know that mind control and isolation boundaries aren’t fully compatible with each other. It might be possible to maintain both against an average person, but not against someone like this.”

  “Oh dear, are you ignoring me? But maybe trying to dissuade someone who would ambush a contestant the day before an important match was doomed from the start?” Ernest lowered the tip of the Lei-Glems toward Lamina Mortis.

  “Be careful. He’s stronger than he lets on,” Ayato whispered as he readied the Ser Veresta.

  “I guessed as much from your exchange… Is that the Raksha-Nada?”

  Ernest, it seemed, was sharp-eyed.

  On closer inspection, the crimson blade was letting out a faint buzzing sound much like those of the Lei-Glems and Ser Veresta.

  “This is an important occasion. It may well be the first time in all of Asterisk’s history that we’ve had three of the Four Colored Runeswords gathered in one place. I would very much love to savor this moment…but I’m afraid it’s time.” With that, Lamina Mortis returned the Raksha-Nada to its holder before leaping backward into the distance. “I can’t say it went according to plan, but I’ve achieved my purpose here,” he called out. “I look forward to tomorrow’s match!”

  “Wait!” Ayato shouted as he attempted to leap after the departing figure, when Varda appeared in his path.

  “You’ll remain here,” she said, the piece of manadite—no, urm-manadite—inlaid in the necklace at her breast letting out a deep, jet-black light.

  So Sylvia was right…

  It looked like she had hit the mark in surmising that it was an Orga Lux that had usurped Ursula’s body. Its ability was no doubt mind control, and the cost of using it was the loss of one’s own body.

  “Ernest! Watch out for that black light!” Ayato, having already faced her once, called out in warning.

  He readied himself to counterattack with the Ser Veresta, but the black light soon began to wrap around its urm-manadite core. He couldn’t tell what would happen if he followed through with it.

  However—

  “No need to worry!” Ernest answered, as with a brilliant flash, the Lei-Glems cut straight through the black light.

  “—!” That’s…”

  While they differed in their specific abilities, each of the Four Colored Runeswords was essentially impossible to defend against. That being the case, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he had been able to dispel her ability.

  “These Runeswords, breaking through my abilities whenever they please…,” Varda murmured darkly as she gathered yet more black light into both hands, the writhing shadow quickly taking the form of a huge ax.

  At that moment, Ayato attempted to leap past her in pursuit of Lamina Mortis.

  Once again, however, she blocked his advance before rushing toward him with her ax of black lightning. Ayato tried to fend her off, but the force of the impact went far beyond what he had been expecting.

  “Ugh…”

  “Amagiri!” Ernest tried to fight his way through to him, but Varda blocked him.

  Ernest successfully evaded her counterattack, but as he did so, his face turned pale with shock. “This… This is no ordinary lady…”

  Ayato had assumed that mind control was her only ability, but that had been a mistake. They could forget about taking her on individually—she was skilled enough to hold them both back simultaneously.

  “Unlike my previous body, this one knows how to hold its own in a fight. Don’t take it lightly.”

  Of course. Ursula Svend had taught Queenvale’s number-one fighter and the runner-up from the last Lindvolus. He should have expected that she would be a formidable opponent.

  And yet—

  “You are indeed strong. Frankly speaking, I’m impressed…,” Ernest said. “And yet, I doubt you can win against us both.”

  Right. There was no doubting Varda’s skill, but she wasn’t at the level of Lamina Mortis. Ayato had only faced him the once, but that was clear enough.

  “Indeed. I could take either of you alone, but not together,” Varda admitted without hesitation. “But that doesn’t concern me. He should be long gone by now. In which case… There’s no need for me to keep this area sealed off.”

  No sooner had she finished speaking than the strange, oppressive feeling that enveloped them lifted.

  Ernest seemed to have noticed it as well. “That’s…,” he began as he glanced around in suspicion.

  At that moment, Varda released a burst of black light more intense than any Ayato had seen before.

  A ferocious pain tore through his skull, sending him crashing to his knees.

  So that’s how much power she was putting into her boundary…!

  The fact that she had turned it all against him now meant she was serious this time.

  “Argh…”

  Ernest carved the Lei-Glems through the cloud of black light, but for what seemed like the longest time, it refused to abate.

  When finally the pain stopped, Varda was nowhere to be seen.

  “…Dear me. Are you all right?” Ernest asked as he held out his hand.

  “I think so,” Ayato answered as he was helped to his feet.

  “I’ve contacted the city guard, so they shouldn’t be too long now. You can tell me what that was about once they arrive.”

  “Sorry to get you caught up in all this,” Ayato answered, his head bowed. “But thanks. If not for your help…”

  To be honest, he had no idea what might have happened if Ernest hadn’t shown up.

  Ernest, however, gave him a brilliant, almost-sparkling smile as he shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. I’m looking forward to facing you myself tomorrow, after all.”

  “…Me too.” Ayato grinned back.

  But at the same time, he was filled with questions. True, with the exception of the damage he had taken during the semifinal, he was largely uninjured. The worst that he had received from Lamina Mortis was the kick that had thrown him to the ground.

  Mortis was at least as powerful as Xiaohui Wu—and probably more so. It simply didn’t make sense that Ayato had been able to face him and escape unharmed.

  Unless he was trying not to injure me…? But in that case, why would he have gone to all this trouble…?

  Ayato had no idea what the man had been hoping to achieve.

  But he stopped himself there. There was no understanding something that couldn’t be understood. Even thinking about it was pointless.

  Instead, he directed his next question at Ernest: “By the way… What were you doing here?”

  Ernest, of course, ought to have been preparing for tomorrow’s match as well. Given Kirin’s condition, Ayato had reason enough to visit the hospital, but Ernest’s team had won their match by default, and so, they were perfectly able-bodied.

  “I came to see my sister.”

  “Oh, Team Kaguya…,” Ayato murmured, suddenly remembering the team from Queenvale that had been earmarked as this year’s dark horse.

  They had been soundly defeated in the quarterfinals, with several of their members sustaining major injuries. Ernest’s sister, Sophia, must have been one of them.

  “As her brother, I thought I should check in,” he said, his expression suddenly unreadable. “But I wonder whether I still have the right to call myself that…”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m the reason she came to Asterisk,” he said with a tired sigh. “It sounds like she wanted to win the Festa so she could take over the Fairclough name, setting me free to live as I pleased… Such a foolish girl…”

  “Setting you free…?”

  Ernest let out a resigned chuckle. “From the bonds of family. She was involved in an accident, a long time ago. She ended up hurting a good friend of mine. That led to a rift between my friend and me—no, between my
friend’s family and our own, I suppose. She still blames herself for that, it seems.” Ernest spoke quietly, but he seemed to become somewhat more animated when he said the word friend, a hint of nostalgia entering his voice. “She—my friend—was very important to me, and there’s no denying that the only time I could really feel at ease was when I was with her. So it isn’t as if I can’t understand Sophia’s sense of guilt… But it’s all in the past now.” He stopped there, setting upright a bench that must have been knocked over during the previous fight, before urging Ayato to join him.

  As Ayato sat down beside him, Ernest tilted his head back to stare up at the glimmering night sky. “I’ve come to accept the bonds of house and family. You could say that I’ve managed to tame that sense of confinement. I thought that Sophia had realized that, but I suppose it must have still looked like a burden to her.”

  Not once did Ernest look in his direction. He half sounded as if he were talking to himself. Even so, there was something Ayato wanted to ask. “Is it really such a burden?”

  He didn’t know much about the Fairclough house, nor about Ernest’s particular circumstances.

  And yet, the young man sitting across from him had always come across as somewhat too perfect. Ernest was the kind of person whose fame seemed to just keep on rising to new heights. Endowed with strength, kindness, nobility, and a broad-minded attitude—and with a tenure as student council president at Saint Gallardworth Academy that simply couldn’t be faulted. And yet, Ayato had a hard time believing anyone could truly live up to such lofty standards.

  “No one can live apart from their surroundings. So the question is how to take control of one’s circumstances. I’m fortunate enough to have been blessed with the resources necessary to do that.”

  It was a vague response, but the words rang true. The way Ayato saw it, there could be no doubting that Ernest would be able to meet whatever bonds or expectations that were thrust upon him—no matter whether they were born out of kindness or ill will.

  “Selflessness might be the guiding principle for all of us at Gallardworth, and yet… You might not know this, because we’re cautioned against putting our desires into words, but there are many among us who would like nothing more than to win at the Festa and have our selfish wishes come true.”