—The abhorrent technique left behind by the Wicked Elder, Orvalt Dunkurken.
A
All living things are nothing more than vessels for the Od, which transitions from nothingness into being. Depending on the shape of the Od, the appropriate vessel's size and form differ accordingly.
That is why every living creature takes on a different shape, and why each exists as a distinct life-form.
If that logic holds true—if the body serves merely as a vessel for the Od—then by changing the shape of the Od, one can freely reshape the vessel itself.
By compressing the Od, the body that serves as the vessel shrinks to match— "Well, honestly, I don't really get why the previous Shinobi elders came up with something like this. I mean, training your body right up until the moment of death, and figuring out exactly when that moment is—doesn't that sound terrifying?"
"So basically, being a Shinobi is like that. The moment you set foot on that path, it's already the road to Shura, walking over mountains of corpses with a spring in your step."
"All those techniques piled up—and you can't inscribe them in secret manuals unless you've risked your life to test them, right? My trump card... one of several dozen, but that's no exception."
"But here's the thing—the results and the consequences are hilariously mismatched. I was sure it would just shrink the body, but it regresses the contents of the mind too, back to when they were young."
"Unfortunately, I don't understand the theory myself. I mean, we're tampering with the Od here. Maybe the mind adjusts to match the Od, just like the body does?"
"Well, it's not a technique I use often, and the target usually has to be killed anyway. I never really bothered digging into the reasons. Besides, it's easier to kill them when both their body and mind have shrunk, so it's a win-win, right?"
"That said, there are the occasional tough nuts who've had their resolve set in stone since childhood! You can't count on their minds shrinking against those types. Oh, and one more thing—"
"......"
"Nah, never mind. Anyway, it's one of my favorite techniques from the Shinobi repertoire because it's so interesting. Weaker enemies just make everything easier, you know?"
△▼△▼△▼△ —Anger. A surging, boiling anger that sets Subaru's soul ablaze.
Fear exists. Tension exists. Anxiety exists.
Every conceivable negative emotion—probably all of them.
But burning all of those negative emotions at once, bundled together, folded neatly and wrapped up, incinerating that entire package—that is the searing anger welling up inside him.
"Damn it, son of a bitch, why do I have to go through this—!"
Shut up, you idiot. Nobody's going to listen to whining like that.
"I told you. I was a warrior. Better at using a blade than any of you."
Shut up, you idiot. That's a complete lie, and everyone already knows you're a show-off.
"I told you. I have no intention of entrusting my life to others—"
Shut up, you idiot. You think you can handle everything alone? Open your eyes and look around.
—Yes, look around. Look at everything. Use every tool available.
"Weitz, catch! The one holding the sword is the target!"
The instant he grabbed the sword, a roar echoed through the arena and a black lion charged forward at full speed.
Its target was him—no, the prey carrying the sword. Subaru knew this. So he yanked the sword from the ground and hurled it straight at Weitz, who was standing there frozen.
At first, when Subaru took off running ahead of them, all three men froze in shock.
And among those three, the only one who managed to catch the sword Subaru threw was the tattooed man who could regain his composure at the last second—Weitz.
"K-Kid...!"
Weitz saw the sword spin and embed itself at his feet, and instinctively grabbed the hilt.
But he'd been listening to Subaru's voice, so he understood immediately—not that the sword was the key to defeating the lion, but that it was a flag to redirect the lion's target.
The problem was— "K-Key, hand over the sword! I'll take that arena beast—"
The rust-colored hair, regaining his wits next, tried to snatch the sword Weitz had secured.
Tension and fear had completely short-circuited the rust-haired one's judgment. If they started fighting over the sword, both of them would become fodder for the lion's front paws.
So, to prevent that— "Hiaiin! Behind you!!"
"Wh-Behind me...!?"
Just as the rust-haired one was about to grab Weitz, Subaru called out to the lizardman on the margins—Hiaiin—telling him that a pressing danger lurked behind him.
The most timid of the three, Hiaiin whipped around at Subaru's voice, trying to confirm what was coming for him.
But there was nothing there. Subaru just wanted him to turn around.
When Hiaiin flinched and stiffened, turning to look— "Guwahh!"
Hiaiin's fully extended tail whipped sideways and smashed into the rust-haired one's ribs. The unexpected blow sent the rust-haired one tumbling, and Weitz kept his grip on the sword.
And so, Weitz—now braced and ready—became the lion's new target, as it shifted from Subaru to him.
"Get down!"
"Tch!"
Hearing Subaru's voice, Weitz ducked, and the lion's fangs tore through the air where his head had just been. Weitz twisted his tattooed face and slid underneath the beast's belly, releasing the sword before the next strike could come.
With a light toss, the sword sailed through the air and landed square in Hiaiin's chest, who had reached out involuntarily.
"Huh?"
"—!!"
"Hiaaaaaa—!!"
Naturally, the lion's attention pivoted toward the slow-reacting Hiaiin.
Clueless about the situation, Hiaiin clutched the sword to his chest, turned his back on the lion, and sprinted away with startling speed.
The lion gave chase mercilessly, lunging and attacking.
"While they've got it covered, I'll—!"
While Weitz and Hiaiin kept the lion busy, Subaru ran along the arena wall. His eyes locked onto a small handle—a lever of some kind—mounted on the wall.
At first glance, his attention had been seized by the two swords, large and small, embedded in the arena floor. But looking more carefully, he spotted these levers installed discreetly along the perimeter.
"What happens if I pull this?"
The lever was mounted a bit high for the younger Subaru, but he jumped at it and pulled the handle down with his full weight. As the lever descended with force, a heavy sound reverberated through the arena.
Gears grinding together, a rumbling sensation traveled up through the soles of his feet. Something mechanical had been activated beneath the arena floor.
As the situation shifted, Subaru turned to survey the arena— "Whoa, waaaah—!!"
The next instant, what split the arena in two with a thunderous crash was an iron fence rising from the ground.
It was a wall that rose up to divide the circular arena neatly in half, which could be used to herd the lion to the other side.
However— "—!!"
This time, he'd misjudged which direction to herd it.
The lion was on the near side of the fence, so the barrier only served to shrink Subaru's space to maneuver. The hunting ground had shrunk, and the lion seemed to grow twice as large. Its blood-stained maw still had the remains of something that had been Hiaiin tangled in its teeth.
"Guahh—"
And beneath the lion's paws, the rust-haired one rolled across the ground with a groan.
He'd apparently been directly above the fence when it rose, which sent him flying—and he'd landed, unfortunately, on the same side as the lion and Subaru.
Meanwhile, across the fence, Weitz stood unharmed, staring blankly.
"St-Stop...!"
The lion's raised front paw came down and mercilessly crushed the neck of the rust-haired man lying on the ground.
A sound like cracking ice rang out, and the rust-haired one's scream was cut short there. The lion, unable to cross the fence behind it, turned its gaze toward Subaru.
The way it lowered its body slightly—he could feel his skin crawl at the thought of it charging.
The sword was on Weitz's side of the fence, and since the lion apparently didn't consider it a threat if it couldn't reach Subaru, it charged straight at him.
"Schwartz!!"
Weitz screamed. In moments of danger, Weitz called Subaru's name every time.
Of course, only when he wasn't already dead.
Committing that fact to the corner of his memory— "—Next!"
The arena beast's sharp claws sank into Subaru's chest as he roared that word.
Before even a second had passed, Subaru's body was blown apart by an impact like a bolt of lightning, his consciousness burning white— △▼△▼△▼△ "Idra! The fence won't hold much longer! What about the sword over there?!"
"I can't pull it out! It's far too heavy! There's no way I can move it!!"
The iron fence, battered by the lion's tremendous charge, buckled grotesquely as the beast twisted its body through to their side.
He'd heard that humans, if their heads can fit through, can squeeze through just about any narrow gap. Even if the shape was quite different, if this arena beast's face had anything feline about it, it might squeeze through even more easily.
Behind Subaru, who gritted his teeth at that thought, the rust-haired man—Idra—was desperately trying to pull the greatsword from the ground, but it wouldn't budge.
The lever to raise the fence, and the two swords, large and small. After all that searching, those were the only two gimmicks they'd found. This was it—pure, brute-force combat from here on out.
"Boy! What do we do?!"
"Don't lose your nerve! You're supposed to be the heir to a proud family, aren't you?!"
"—Y-Yes! I... I won't lose my nerve!"
Fear trembled in Idra's voice, but Subaru's words brought strength back to his eyes.
Idra was no warrior or anything of the sort. He'd ended up washed ashore on Sword Slave Island because he'd fallen into slavery after being unable to repay his debts.
But the reason he'd taken on those debts was to protect the family business he'd inherited from his father.
Even if he wasn't a warrior, Idra genuinely wanted to be a man who wouldn't disgrace his father's name.
"O-Ohhhhh!!"
The miller's son with no talent threw his weight against the greatsword and heaved, tilting it. Subaru rushed to Idra's side and threw his own weight against the sword as well.
On the other side of the fence, the lion crept closer. Behind it lay the bodies of Weitz and Hiaiin, already felled.
There was almost no chance of victory left. —And yet, Idra hadn't abandoned Subaru and fled. That was a first.
"—!!"
"Idra, here it comes!"
"I know!"
The iron fence shrieked as the lion finally forced its way through to their side.
Its black-furred skin, bristling with dense hair, bore the marks of the broken fence but felt no pain at all. If anything, it seemed to blame them for the pain and charged with even greater fury.
"Guuh...!"
The greatsword's tip finally cleared the ground, and Idra hefted it. Subaru pressed his hands up from below against the blade, helping Idra use leverage to swing it.
If Subaru pushed up from beneath, even slightly, it would lighten the swing.
If that sword connected squarely with the lion— "Haaa—!!"
"Oraaaa—!!"
Subaru and Idra combined their strength and swung the greatsword at the face of the charging lion.
The sword, swung with the force of a shoulder throw over Idra's shoulder, struck true at the lion's head in a miraculous moment of timing.
But— "—Ah."
The telegraphed blow was mercilessly deflected by the arena beast's claws, and in the momentum of the rebound, both Subaru and Idra were sent flying.
The two tumbled through the air, crashed into the arena wall together, and became one with it.
"Splut."
An indistinguishable smear of two men's blood spread across the wall— "...N-Next..."
△▼△▼△▼△ —Anger. A surging, boiling anger that sets Subaru's soul ablaze.
"I just stole to get by because I was hungry... As long as they thought I was dangerous, it turned out I could avoid dying most of the time..."
Weitz ran a hand over his skin, which was covered in tattoos to the point of being indistinguishable, and said this.
It sounded almost like an apology for being all talk, but Subaru took it as a sign that Weitz had opened up at the last moment.
"You lot were planning to use me as a decoy to escape anyway! I'm... I'm not going to be used anymore! You think I'll let you use me again?!"
Hiaiin said this while his eyes darted about timidly, as though crying out.
The ability to change the color of his scales and hide—that must have been known even among his companions. Always assigned the most dangerous role, and ultimately used as a decoy against his will, landing him in slavery.
That timidity wasn't his fault. It had been bred into him by those around him.
"I believed in someone, got betrayed, had my family's business stolen, and ended up as a slave. If living honestly only makes a fool of you, then at least the last bit of myself that's left...!"
Idra bit his lip until it bled, seething with frustration and shame.
He wasn't used to lying and couldn't keep one up to the end. And to begin with, claiming to be a warrior after being dragged to Sword Slave Island—that was far too careless a lie to hold up.
It would come out eventually, and sure enough, Subaru figured it out right away. The result of a little cheating.
—A coward, a timid soul, and a con artist, banding together to survive this 'Sparca.' "Next...!" "Next." "Next!!" "Next time for sure!" "Next, I'll go..." "Next time..." "Next time I can make it...!" "Next!" "Next..." "—Next time." "Next—!!"
To survive, the contradiction of piling 'death' upon 'death' grew heavier and heavier.
It hurts. It's agonizing. It's terrifying. It's unbearable. I want to stop. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to howl. I want to rage. I want to cry out. I want to throw it all away. I want to refuse. I want to regret. I want to give up. I won't give up.
Plucking away possibility after possibility.
An infinite number of possibilities—collapsing dead ends, one after another, crushing them, crushing them, crushing them, crushing them, crushing them.
Shoving his small body into the unknown path that must lie beyond.
Weitz dies. Hiaiin dies. Idra dies.
And of course, Subaru dies the same number of times, and still picks himself up and moves forward.
"Hey Bassu, is there anything you'd like me to tell your sleeping companion over there?"
"—Next!!"
He roared back at the casual question, and even as claws bore down on him, even as 'death' washed over his entire body,
Because—because—because— "I won't lose."
—There isn't a shred of defeat in him.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Oh? You're asking what I was mumbling about earlier? Man, you've got sharp eyes."
"I was telling you about that troublesome type who stays dangerous even when they're small, remember? The effect's halved on people whose resolve hasn't changed even if their minds have shrunk. Of course, those people's bodies are small too, so they're still easier to kill, but still."
"But—what if, hypothetically, someone existed for whom both body and mind at their smallest were at their peak? What do you think would happen if you used this technique on that kind of person?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I don't think such a person exists either. But here's the thing—I'm an incredibly pessimistic old man. I've always thought about the worst-case scenario, which means I can also pull off the worst kind of harassment on someone. Right?"
"And the worst possibility I can think of—against this technique—is exactly that. Someone who gets more dangerous the smaller they shrink. That's what scares me."
"Getting old isn't just about me—over time, you pick up all kinds of resignation and compromise. But what if, for such a person, all of that just... vanished?"
"Wouldn't that be genuinely terrifying?"
△▼△▼△▼△ "Next."
—It was a bitterly ironic outcome.
The technique of the Wicked Elder, Orvalt Dunkurken—the 'infantilization' it inflicted—transformed Natsuki Subaru into a child's body and regressed even his meager intellect.
As knowledge and memories were gradually stripped away, Subaru was being re-forged into a weak and fragile boy.
The technique's purpose was to rob its target of all threat—physical and mental alike.
A perfect match for the Shinobi, who employed every means necessary to achieve their ends.
In truth, memories peeled away from Subaru like layers flaking off, and important faces grew distant.
And so, Natsuki Subaru was returned to what he appeared to be: a child of around ten years old.
Around ten years old—that era when Natsuki Subaru had been a 'prodigy.' "Next."
Once upon a time, Natsuki Subaru had been a prodigy.
Whether he was truly talented enough to be called a genius didn't matter. What mattered was that Subaru himself possessed that sense of self-worth.
Young Natsuki Subaru brimmed with confidence, never once doubting that he could do anything.
He led the other children around him, and believed with all his heart that he could reach the stars in the sky.
"Next."
As he grew, that sense of self-worth was ground down by reality and lost.
The fact that he'd always been number one at everything faded away, and beneath Subaru there was no longer any sense of omnipotence—only helplessness and frustration, as the shining stars hid behind overcast skies.
Natsuki Subaru had lost his confidence as he grew in height.
"Next."
The day he was summoned to another world—that was the moment when Subaru's sense of self-worth was at its absolute lowest.
The encounters that followed, the experiences, the conversations, the actions—they gradually wrapped Natsuki Subaru in new hopes, and he came to acknowledge that his own efforts weren't so bad after all.
And yet, the part of him that lamented it still wasn't enough persisted.
"Next."
All of that—everything Natsuki Subaru had gained through growing up, and everything he had lost—was vanishing.
As his body reverted to childhood, his mind regressed as well, and he should have become weaker. Physically, he had. He'd grown weak. —But mentally... what about that?
"Next."
Once upon a time, Natsuki Subaru had been a prodigy.
He didn't know defeat. He didn't know resignation. He didn't know dreams that wouldn't come true, or efforts that fell short, or the frustration of inadequacy, or the despair of dead ends, or the bitterness of giving up.
He simply, recklessly, believed without a shred of doubt that he could do anything.
He was the kind of boy who could unshakably believe that he was the center of the world, that he was its ruler.
And what supported that self-awareness were the words of magic— "—Just as I thought. You're that person's son."
The infinite power pouring from those words unlocked the shackles on young Natsuki Subaru's heart.
More than frightening, it was infuriating. More than painful, it was maddening. More than wanting to cry, he wanted to laugh.
In a country he despised, joining forces with companions he barely cared about, heading toward a place where the girls he loved were surely waiting—what was there to hesitate about?
And so, in this moment, Natsuki Subaru— "—Next."
—Rampaged through the Guinhive as the most powerful existence since his Otherworld Summoning.
△▼△▼△▼△ "————"
Everyone was struck speechless.
The sword slaves had been strictly ordered by the island's master, Gustaf Morello, to watch the 'Sparca' in silence.
So the unusual quiet that engulfed the arena was, in a sense, inevitable.
But the silence and stillness of this moment were not simply because of Gustaf's command.
Even without his orders, no one would have been able to say a word. That was how overwhelmed they were by the bone-chilling spectacle before them.
"Weitz! Idra! Split left and right! Hiaiin, I know you're scared, but don't run! Pick up a sword and lure it in before you throw!"
The arena beast Guilltilau bellowed with a savage roar as it raced around the arena.
Having its horns broken and trained for 'Sparca,' the beast had traded its wild freedom for an ironclad understanding of sword slaves as human threats.
So it targeted those carrying weapons first, working to eliminate the most dangerous presences.
But because of its one-track predatory habit, the 'Union' members could scatter its focus by passing weapons among themselves.
Of course, plenty of 'Unions' failed to spot this on their first encounter and were wiped out entirely.
Being able to see through it at all was, itself, a guarantee of a certain level of excellence.
And yet, even so, this scene was extraordinary.
"Hahahaha! Amazing, amazing! You're trying so hard, Bassu!"
While everyone else had lost their voices, a single boy clapped his hands and cheered them on.
He had long blue hair tied behind his head and a charming face lit up by a bright smile. The boy ignored Gustaf's orders entirely, shouting encouragement at the 'Union' fighting valiantly in the arena.
Whether his cheers had any effect was uncertain, but dodging the arena beast's attacks by a hair's breadth, the four members of 'Sparca' continued their desperate battle.
There was no decisive blow. In a sense, it was a tedious deathmatch.
But two things kept it from being boring: the fact that they were on the verge of death yet refused to die, and the young boy whose voice never stopped ringing out.
Following the boy's instructions, the three men kept moving. Desperately.
It went without saying that they had the freedom to ignore his orders. But since the boy's directions had saved their lives from the arena beast time and again, that freedom was effectively sealed.
And so the 'Union' moved as one living organism, with the young boy at its center.
The fact that they were still on the defensive was due either to the overwhelming disparity in combat power—or perhaps— "—Is he aiming for something?"
Among the sword slaves watching from above, the same hope began to burn like a flame.
△▼△▼△▼△ —Anger. A surging, boiling anger that sets Subaru's soul ablaze.
'death' piled upon 'death,' pain and fear overlaid again and again, and his hands, feet, and organs all drew inward. When he shut his eyes, the lion's face, its fangs, the inside of its mouth—all things he'd seen up close time and again—flashed behind his eyelids.
An immeasurable terror descended. But rising alongside it was—anger.
Frustration surged through his shrinking limbs and organs, and Natsuki Subaru opened his eyes.
To snatch one step closer to victory with each passing moment, in challenges he'd grown sick of even counting.
To prove to himself that there wasn't a single shred of defeat in him.
"Hiaiin! Throw the sword to Weitz, then get to Idra!"
"Shit! I don't understand any of this!!"
Hiaiin, who'd been sprinting on all fours across the ground at breakneck speed, hurled the sword he'd been carrying to Weitz. Then he accelerated toward Idra, who stood by the greatsword.
Weitz snatched the spinning sword out of the air in a precarious catch, and Subaru was about to direct their next escape route when his eyes went wide.
"—!!"
The lion roared. The very legs that had been chasing Hiaiin just moments ago stopped—right at the halfway point that bisected the circular arena.
And at that same moment, the companions' positions—all of them—were on the near side of the fence.
Everyone was alive, and for the first time, they had an ideal formation.
"Weitz, get ready!! Idra, Hiaiin too!!"
Subaru hurled their roles at the three of them with enough force to spit blood.
It probably hadn't communicated everything, but Weitz raised his sword to face the lion, and Idra and Hiaiin lunged for the greatsword.
And Subaru himself sprinted toward the wall with everything he had.
"—!!"
One step, two steps—each agonizingly slow. Behind him, the lion roared.
It kicked off the ground with explosive force and charged straight at Weitz, who stood with his sword braced.
Straight on, straight on—Weitz had his sword up, but at that speed, nothing could stop it. One hit and he'd be dead. Subaru knew this all too well.
But only Weitz had the nerve to lock eyes with the lion until the very last moment.
"Oraaaa—!!"
That foul-breathed mouth, bristling with sword-like fangs, the mouth that had torn through Subaru and the three others time and time again—it plunged straight toward Weitz.
And just before it would have claimed his life— "—Go!!"
The instant his fingertips caught it, Subaru threw every ounce of his light body weight into the lever.
Immediately, the sound of grinding gears traveled through the ground, and the iron fence surged upward from below, punching through the lion's face from beneath its jaw. Its mouth was forced shut by the impact.
The lion's charge crashed into the fence, and Weitz—who had lured the enemy in close—was blown away by the shockwave with a "Guwah!?"
The iron fence buckled under the impact, and through a bend in the mangled bars, the lion's head poked through to their side. Blasted by a punishing blow to the face, the lion scraped at the ground with its front paws, righted itself, and appeared ready to break through the fence.
—But Subaru wouldn't allow that.
"Idra! Hiaiin!"
"O-Orhaaaaa—!!"
"Yaaaaaah!!"
As Weitz lay blown aside, Idra and Hiaiin rushed to the iron fence. Clutched in their hands was the greatsword—far too unwieldy for any one person to swing.
A weapon none of them could use properly, but there was no rule saying one person had to wield it alone.
Nor was there a rule against two men hoisting it together and bringing it down on a target that couldn't move.
"—!!"
A full-force two-man strike from the greatsword descended directly onto the lion's neck, which jutted through the iron fence. The great blade plunged deep into the beast's thick neck, and the lion's shriek echoed across the sky.
Blood sprayed as the lion thrashed, refusing to die.
"Die, die, die, dieee!!"
"Drop dead already—!!"
Hiaiin and Idra screamed as they drove their weight into the greatsword, burying the blade deeper. If they could just cleave through the lion's neck, the long-awaited moment of victory would come.
Again and again, those claws and fangs had beaten them, beaten them, beaten them— "—!!"
"Guh!?"
"You two?!"
One more step—but the lion didn't want to die either.
With the greatsword buried in its neck, the lion twisted its body violently and dragged its right forepaw over to their side of the fence. That paw swept away both men holding the blade.
Groaning, Hiaiin and Idra tumbled across the ground.
How badly the two were wounded, Subaru couldn't tell.
But rather than rushing to their aid, it was more important to seize the greatsword.
"I won't let you escape now!"
Having come this far, Subaru threw himself at the sword's hilt. But he was too light. He couldn't make up for the combined weight of Hiaiin and Idra—not in this body.
The greatsword dug in slightly deeper, but in retaliation, the forepaw swung.
Just like the two before him, Subaru was struck by the paw— "Not a chance, you beast...!"
The forepaw was pinned to the ground by a downward sword strike.
The one who'd driven the sword in was Weitz—who should have been blown away by the charge. Teeth clenched, face tattoos twisted with effort, Weitz used every last ounce of strength to pin the lion's forepaw with the sword.
And then— "You think you can lie there and call yourself a warrior?!"
"Just die already, you goddamn freak!!"
Idra and Hiaiin, having scrambled back to their feet, lunged at the greatsword Subaru hung from.
With the combined strength of three—no, two and a half—the greatsword carved deeper into the lion's neck. Weitz drove his sword in hard to seal the forepaw, and all four members of the 'Union' poured their strength into severing the lion's head.
The lion roared, wrenching its body, and the iron fence groaned violently.
There would be no more chances. Subaru clenched his teeth—can't lose, don't want to lose, must not lose—and clung to the greatsword with everything he had.
And still— "—!!"
"Uwaaah—!!"
With a massive shake of its head, the lion's enormous body flung them all off.
Their clinging bodies were ripped from the greatsword, and all three—no, all four including Weitz—went rolling across the ground.
Having literally given every last ounce of strength, their limbs had gone completely limp.
"H-Have to..."
He had to stand up. Had to throw himself at that greatsword one more time. Had to sever the neck.
That's what he told himself, but his body wouldn't listen. And it wasn't just Subaru—the other three were in the same state.
After everything they'd done, the one with the most fight left was still the lion.
"—!!"
With the greatsword still lodged halfway through its neck, the lion let out a low growl.
It sounded less like weakness and more like rage bottled up to its absolute limit. Of course, it was hurting—that much was certain—but it still hadn't been enough to finish it off.
"Damn it..."
He'd tried so hard, tried and tried and tried, and he'd finally reached the last step.
And still, it wasn't enough. He'd used everything he could think of to get this far.
So this time, he wouldn't lose.
"N-Next time..."
Subaru swore solemnly that he would reach this same point even faster next time.
Ignoring that vow, the lion broke through the fence, raised its intact forepaw, and brought it down toward Subaru— "—Pardon the intrusion."
In the next instant, the lion's thick neck was severed in a single clean stroke.
"Huh?"
Facing death himself, Subaru stared wide-eyed at someone else's death instead.
The severed head hit the ground with a thud, and the lion's body slowly toppled sideways. It was the greatsword—still lodged deep in the lion's neck—that had done it.
A small shadow had dropped from above like a surprise attack, landing on the greatsword and driving it through.
That was how the lion's head had been cleaved off.
And the one who had accomplished this was— "...Excuse me, but why am I in a place like this?"
A girl—
Subaru let out a small breath at the question from the girl, who had shed her kimono and wore only an undergarment.
He couldn't answer. But when he looked around, the other three besides himself had somehow survived as well.
In other words— "—That's enough! You have survived the 'Sparca'!! By the authority vested in me, I shall accept you all as members of Sword Slave Island!"
A great, booming voice rang out, and Gustaf's declaration announced the end of the battle.
In an instant, the spectators—who'd been watching the fight in silence, no—the sword slaves rose to their feet and raised their voices in unison to celebrate Subaru's victory.
"Well done!"
"That was incredible!"
"Not bad at all, little man!!"
Amid the excited shouts raining down from the men, Gustaf simply crossed his four arms and said nothing.
Listening to their cheers, Subaru collapsed flat on the ground. Tanza approached cautiously and peered down at his face.
"Excuse me, you are..."
"Natsuki Schwartz."
"Huh?"
Tanza's round eyes grew even rounder at his introduction, and Subaru, still lying on the ground, let out a long, long breath before continuing.
"For now, I'm Natsuki Schwartz, so pleased to meet you. There are a lot of things I want to talk about, but..."
"But?"
"...I just need to rest for a bit."
He felt bad for leaving Tanza with a tilted head and a puzzled look, but Subaru was at his limit too.
The taut thread of tension finally snapped, and the burning heat of his soul began to cool. Of course, the resentment toward this situation still smoldered.
But all the same, he had managed to survive the 'Sparca.' "Just let me... sleep for a bit..."
And with that, Subaru's consciousness fell away, dropping as cleanly as through a trapdoor.
△▼△▼△▼△ "————"
Below, in the arena, Gustaf narrowed his eyes at the boy who lay sprawled in a star shape, unconscious.
It had been an extraordinary battle, and the outcome had been entirely unexpected.
He'd never even considered that the boy possessed such talent.
"That was something, wasn't it, Gustaf? Picking up Bassu was absolutely the right call—I'm glad you didn't throw him away! Isn't that a huge achievement for me?"
"......"
"Segmunt."
Gustaf, lost in thought, was approached familiarly by Cecilius.
At the boy's words, Gustaf rubbed his forehead and brow with two of his right arms— "You had your reasons. Did you anticipate this?"
"Well, I was hoping for it! I thought it'd be great if things turned out this way, and they did. Truly, faith has been rewarded!"
"...You staked your own life on such an uncertain possibility?"
"Hmm? Well, yes, I did?"
Cecilius tilted his head with a puzzled expression, as if he'd said nothing unusual at all.
As if he hadn't insisted—when he'd pulled the two of them up, Schwartz and Tanza—that if they turned out to be useless, he would pay for both their lives with his own.
"In the end, nothing happened, right? From my perspective, it was a generous offer. I'm not the kind of person who'd waste himself on something like this!"
"I cannot comprehend your reasoning. And one more thing—what did you do at the end?"
Gustaf directed the question at Cecilius, who puffed out his thin chest with a grin.
At the final moment—during the 'Sparca' where everything had been on the line—Cecilius had disappeared once, for the briefest of instants.
Given what had happened afterward, the broad strokes were obvious—but— "You went to wake the girl."
"Oh come on, if you already know, there's no point asking. Besides, the 'Union' was supposed to be five people, and I told you we couldn't start without her waking up. That was your call, Gustaf. Which conversely means she was free to join whenever she woke up, right?"
Cecilius winked one eye and looked up at the much taller Gustaf— "So, are you going to call it off? Declare that this 'Sparca' was fraudulent?"
"—. It doesn't constitute fraud. His Excellency the Emperor will surely be delighted at the birth of such a magnificent sword slave."
"Haha, well, I say this with all due respect, but His Excellency the Emperor doesn't seem like such a great person either!"
"Insulting His Excellency the Emperor will not be tolerated. There won't be a second time."
Gustaf spoke in a stern voice, and Cecilius shrugged and backed off casually. Gustaf snorted through his nose and turned his attention back to the arena.
Schwartz—the prime contributor—and the three men were being carried off by Gustaf's guards. They would be taken to the healing room for treatment by a healer.
The listless girl followed along for the time being.
"Surviving with every last member of the 'Union'... through one person alone."
It was an outcome no one else could have reached, and who had contributed the most went without saying.
He'd spotted every mechanism and weapon prepared in the arena, kept his eyes on his companions in the same dire straits, observed the enemy's movements as much as possible, and crossed the tightrope.
Having witnessed that conclusion— "See? Don't you get the feeling a grand story is about to begin?"
At Cecilius's smug, self-satisfied request for agreement, Gustaf—finding any response to be a nuisance—maintained his stern expression and simply crossed his four thick arms in silence.