by Yuu Miyazaki
“Huh?” Ayato stared at him blankly. He had no idea what Ernest wished for. “In that case, why are you…?”
“Some of us do it for a house or family, for example,” Ernest continued.
Ayato, however, still didn’t understand. “In that case…”
“You must have noticed how many of our students come from old families and supposedly noble pedigrees. It isn’t at all common for Genestella to be accepted by such families. If you want to find somewhere you can belong among such people, you need to find a way to prove your worth. That is, by winning at the Festa and using your wish to benefit them in some way.” Ernest’s voice was startlingly cold as he spoke. “Laetitia, Kevin, Lionel, Doroteo, Elliot—the same goes for all of them. But there are exceptions, too, I suppose. In my team, Percival seems to have a wish of her own, for instance.”
No one can live apart from their surroundings, Ayato repeated in silence. The words seemed to carry a strange weight.
“I’ve gone on a little, haven’t I? Don’t let what I said bother you,” Ernest offered, flashing him a friendly smile.
Footsteps could be heard gathering in the distance—the city guard, no doubt.
“Well, we might as well get this over with.” With that, Ernest rose to his feet, signaling the end of the conversation.
At that moment, Helga Lindwall appeared at the edge of the courtyard, leading a squad of Stjarnagarm officers.
Ayato, troubled in a way that he couldn’t easily describe, rose to meet her.
The following morning, in the team’s prep room at the Sirius Dome, Ayato recounted the night’s events to his assembled team members.
“Wh-why are you always letting yourself get caught up in things like that?” Julis demanded angrily, but she soon trailed off. Her face turned scarlet as she mouthed something to herself in silence, then sunk limply into her chair.
“Ayato is always getting himself in trouble. You should be used to it by now, Julis,” Saya said with a smug look.
Claudia, however, wasn’t amused. “Even so, this is going a little too far. We can’t overlook it this time.”
“Oh? Since when are you prone to worrying, Claudia? But only when it comes to Ayato, it seems,” Saya pointed out.
“Not at all,” she answered with a smile.
It was clear, however, that her composure this time was entirely feigned.
“Claudia… You actually look pretty cute, for once.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel when you say that, Julis,” she answered, her expression a delicate mix of happiness and chagrin. “Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat and turning to Ayato, her countenance once again serious. “There are things I want to ask you about that, but we should save them for later. And there’s something I have to tell you all, too.”
“What do you mean?” Ayato asked, but Claudia quickly cut him off.
“Later. Right now, we need to think about the match.” Letting out a resigned sigh, she opened several air-windows. “This is a simulation based on my calculations…”
“…That doesn’t look good,” Julis grunted in concern.
“It’s practically a slaughterhouse,” Saya added.
“Indeed. As you can see, starting off with a handicap severely limits our options. Which means that our best strategy will be…” She paused for a moment to close all but one of the air-windows.
“A full-frontal attack…,” Ayato murmured.
“Exactly.” Claudia nodded. “Team Lancelot specializes in team battles—to such an extent that they can practically function as a single, integrated unit. We won’t be able to counter that through tricks or artifice, meaning that the only practical option available to us is to put everything into our offense. But if any one of us makes a mistake, we will no doubt be taken down immediately.”
“But we’re already at a disadvantage. If we take them head-on, how will we be able to break through?” Saya asked uneasily.
Ayato, however, shook his head. “That may be so, but it’s what I was thinking of, too.”
“Oh? That isn’t like you.” Julis sounded surprised, but she, too, had broken out into a broad grin.
“If our odds of winning aren’t very high anyway, I, at least, want to fight in a way that I can look back on without regret… That goes for all of you, too, right?” he added, glancing around at the other three.
“…Yeah.”
“No objections here.”
“Then, it’s decided.”
At that moment, Ayato’s mobile began to ring. As soon as he saw the name indicated on the display, he hurriedly opened an air-window.
“Kirin, are you okay?!”
“Y-yes, thanks to all of you…”
No sooner did her face appear before them than Julis, Saya, and Claudia all let out sighs of relief.
“So you’re finally awake?”
“That’s a relief.”
“Indeed, that’s all that matters.”
The three each smiled at her warmly.
Ayato, of course, was of the same opinion.
She seemed to still be lying in bed, but thankfully, her complexion looked much better than the previous night.
“We were so worried… You wouldn’t open your eyes… How are they, by the way?”
“Ah, yes, everything still looks a little bright, but it isn’t serious. A-anyway… I’m really, truly sorry!” On the other side of the air-window, Kirin bowed so suddenly and so deeply that her head filled the display. “You’ll be short one team member, all because of me…”
“What are you saying, Kirin? It’s thanks to you that we were even able to make it this far,” Ayato pointed out.
“Right. We’re nothing but grateful to you,” Julis said firmly.
“You were the only one of us who could defeat Hagun Seikun.” Claudia nodded. “If anything, you should be puffing your chest out in pride!”
“We won’t let your efforts go to waste,” Saya added. “We’re going to win this match. Just wait and see.”
Kirin lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that had begun to brim in the corners of her eyes at this wave of encouragement. “All right. I might not be able to do much from here, but I’ll be supporting you all the way!” The areas around her eyes had turned red, but she shone with a brave, hopeful smile.
Ayato and the others exchanged wordless glances before nodding confidently back at her.
Meanwhile, at the Sirius Dome…
“Everyone! How are our preparations?” Ernest asked of Team Lancelot’s assembled team members in their own prep room.
“I’m ready to go at any moment now.” Laetitia nodded.
“As good as ever. No problems here,” Lionel added.
“Well, yesterday I ended up turning down invitations from so many beautiful ladies, just so I could get some rest,” Kevin answered. “But I guess we’ve all got to do our part.”
All three were brimming with confidence, each, it seemed, already assured of victory.
It wasn’t arrogance or conceit that led them to think that way, but rather their excessive pride at their own abilities.
Whenever she saw the three of them like this, Percival couldn’t help but feel as if she and they were cut from altogether different kinds of cloth.
“And you, Percival?” Ernest repeated, turning toward her.
“…I’m fine,” she answered softly.
“Come on, Percy, there’s no need to take everything so seriously. Just relax. Or you could try to be like Leo,” Kevin said with a grin as he laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a rather frivolous expression, but Percival could tell that behind that laid-back way of his, he was being serious. Kevin was, perhaps, the most astute member of the team.
“Hey, hold on. What’s that supposed to mean?” Lionel demanded, causing Kevin to shirk away.
Percival closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.
Only then did she speak up.
“I am your gun, no more. I will take the si
ns of destroying your enemies unto myself.”
With that, the others all turned toward her.
“I’m tired of hearing that,” Laetitia said with a forced smile. “Can’t you say something else for once?”
“Agreed,” Lionel added with a sigh of resignation.
“You’re a strange one sometimes, Percy,” Kevin said, nonplussed.
Ernest, however…
“Come now, everyone. There’s no need to turn this into an argument.”
He, at least, accepted her as she was.
In this team, with these people, she really could bring herself to feel at ease.
It was too much for her.
“Now then, shall we head off?” Ernest asked, glancing at each of them in turn, when there came a knock at the door.
“Now? Right before the match?” Laetitia moaned as she went to unlock it.
It was a stony-faced member of the administrative staff. One of Gallardworth’s, judging by the uniform.
“Miss Percival… This… Someone from the institute left it for you…”
“—!”
That name alone was enough to send everyone into a stir.
“What? Right now…?” Laetitia murmured, clearly fighting to hold herself back.
Percival, however, simply stared at the writing on the card. “This is a fake,” she said without any hesitation.
“Huh?”
“It must be a prank. Don’t worry about it.” With that, she flung it into the rubbish bin.
Right. It was a fake. And she knew just who was behind it, to whom that scribble belonged.
It was a sign, one that could only be understood by someone who had grown up there.
I always suspected he would try to meddle in my life again. But why now, of all times…?
“Percival, are you sure?” Ernest asked worriedly as he stared into her eyes.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
That was the truth.
At least for now.
“…All right. We trust you.” He nodded.
After a brief pause, he lifted the Runesword above his head as he took command of the team. “In the name of the holy nimbus, symbol of order!”
With this, the four other members all stood at attention, answering in unison: “For Saint Gallardworth!”
Meanwhile, in Miluše’s private quarters at Queenvale Academy for Young Ladies—
“Didn’t you hear me—? There’s no way they won’t win!”
“Right, what Miluše said! Ayato Amagiri can’t lose!”
“…No, no matter how you look at it, Team Lancelot has the advantage.”
“Right, right! Team battles are all about your combined strength! You’ve already lost if you go out there shorthanded!”
Miluše and Tuulia were practically shouting, their voices overflowing with confidence. Päivi and Monica, on the other hand, looked somewhat sulky.
Then there was Mahulena, caught in the middle of the two sides. “U-um, everyone, why don’t we try to calm down a little…”
This was, however, the usual state of business for Rusalka.
If indeed there was something that didn’t feel exactly right, it was probably her own presence among them, Sylvia thought as she glanced at each of the band’s members in turn as she sipped her tea.
Just yesterday, she had been planning to go to the Sirius Dome in person to cheer Ayato on. That was, until late last night, when she had received a sudden phone call from Ayato.
That in itself was a surprise, but the contents of the call were even more shocking.
Not only had he encountered Ursula—or rather, Varda—she had been acting alongside this Lamina Mortis person. It wasn’t at all clear what the two had hoped to achieve, but it was obvious enough that Mortis was after Ayato.
No sooner had she heard Varda’s name than Sylvia found herself burning with impatience and frustration. She had wanted to go to Ayato at that very moment to hear everything in detail.
However, the championship was just the following day, and Ayato would need to rest. She didn’t lack so much self-control that she could think only about her own wants and desires. In fact, she should have been grateful to him for calling her immediately after talking to the city guard.
And yet, she still couldn’t separate the two conflicting sets of emotions. If she was to go to the Sirius Dome and see Ayato, she feared she might find herself doing something that she would later regret.
Which was why she had thought to watch the match with her juniors in Rusalka. Their uncontrollable gaiety would, she hoped, help to bring her own impatience under control.
“Then let’s ask Sylvia!” Miluše announced.
The gazes of the five girls all spun toward her, pulling her back into the here and now.
“Huh? Me?”
“Yep! Who do you think will win?” Miluše beamed, leaning forward in excitement. “Don’t hold back!
Sylvia didn’t even need to think about it. “Team Enfield, of course.”
“I knew it! See, see! Sylvia thinks so, too!” Miluše cried out, ecstatic at having found an ally.
“I knew you had an eye for these things!” Tuulia nodded passionately.
Monica and Päivi, on the other hand, were evidently disappointed.
“What?! Really?”
“…You’re just basing that off your personal feelings.”
“Yep.” Sylvia nodded. “That’s what my feelings tell me. I mean, it’s only natural to believe in the team of the person you love, right?”
“…!”
She paused there, realizing she had been, perhaps, a little too frank. The faces of the five younger girls had all turned scarlet.
As she watched their adorable reactions, Sylvia felt like laughing for the first time all day.
She truly did want Ayato and the others to win—for her as well as for themselves.
In the audience chamber of the Hall of the Yellow Dragon, Alema watched on from behind a nearby pillar, while the members of Team Yellow Dragon—Xiaohui excluded—knelt in front of the seated Xinglou, each staring at the live broadcast from the Sirius Dome projected in the huge air-window before them.
“Hmm… So I take it that your shared opinion is that Gallardworth will win?” Xinglou asked.
“Yes,” Hufeng answered, head bowed respectfully. “Kirin Toudou’s absence is a major blow and one that can’t be solved through strategy alone.”
“I see. And you, Alema? You chose Seidoukan?”
“I DIDN’T SAY THEY’D WIN. EVEN I THINK GALLARDWORTH’S GOT THE ADVANTAGE HERE, AND YET…” Alema, her interest piqued, put on a self-satisfied grin. “YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE MURAKUMO TAKE DOWN THAT YABUKI HEAD. IF HE CAN DO THAT AGAIN, NO ONE AT GALLARDWORTH IS GOING TO STOP HIM.”
It was clear from his expression that Hufeng didn’t find that to be particularly satisfying. “But is he really hiding that kind of strength? He didn’t look like it when he was fighting us.”
“HEY, WATCH IT. ARE YOU SAYING I LIED IN MY REPORT?”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” Hufeng fell silent, glowering at her. It looked like he still hadn’t gotten over his defeat from the previous day.
Xinglou looked down fondly at the two before clapping her hands together lightly. “Now, now. As Alema has noticed, there’s no doubt that Ayato Amagiri possesses some hidden power—or rather, that some of it remains sealed away.”
“Master, does that mean—”
“—that you think Team Enfield will win?”
The twins asked, completing each other’s question.
Xinglou, however, slowly shook her head. “I didn’t say that… That would be more of a minimum requirement,” she said, trying to stifle a burst of laughter.
Her disciples, kneeling before her, were unable to read her thoughts on the matter.
While at the Le Wolfe Black Institute, most students had little interest in team competitions; a great many uncharacteristically eager students—several dozen of who
m had managed to sneak bottles of alcohol onto the campus—had gathered in the quadrangle to watch the championship match of the Festa. Towering air-windows had been installed around the four sides of the wide space, in front of which the gathered crowds waited impatiently.
“Irene, do you really think Mr. Amagiri will be okay…?” Priscilla asked as she struggled to watch the screen from some distance away, a sudden nervousness tightening around her chest.
“It’s not gonna be easy,” her sister, sitting next to her, answered bluntly.
“Oh…” Priscilla must have realized that herself, deep down, but her sense of gratitude for what Ayato had done for her was perhaps clouding her judgment. Even so, she wanted him to win. She put her hands together to pray for his success.
“Well, there’s no way around it. The odds at all the gambling dens are, at least, two-to-one. It doesn’t look good when you’re a fighter short.”
“Hold on. Don’t tell me you bet on it?”
“…Ah.” Irene looked away as her younger sister trained her gaze upon her.
“I don’t believe you, Irene! Mr. Amagiri’s been fighting so hard just to get this far! How could you?”
“N-no, that isn’t how it went! I mean, I—I was supporting them, like…” Irene waved her hands as if to take back what she had said.
At that moment, however, the atmosphere of the space around them underwent a sudden change.
An uneasy murmur spread among the gathered students, a sense of tension like nothing Priscilla had ever felt before falling over her.
For a second, she had thought she had seen something stir on the other side of the air-window—but no, it was something else.
Shock and terror, disgust and reverence—the air was filled with a potent blend of emotions.
The crowd soon split down the middle as students scrambled to put some distance between themselves and the young woman who had appeared before them. They all knew who that eerie white hair and those ominous red eyes belonged to.
“Orphelia Landlufen…”
That name had come to symbolize the ultimate sense of dread in Le Wolfe—and in all of Asterisk. Two-time champion of the Lindvolus, Le Wolfe’s undefeated top-ranked fighter, was said to be the strongest and most feared Strega in all six schools combined.