——Before he knew it, Garfiel Tinsel was sitting in a dark place.
"Huh?"
His sharp eyes went wide as he looked all around.
He had no idea where this was. A dim, shadowy space — Garfiel sat sunk deep into a chair, elbows on his knees, cheeks propped up in his fists.
How on earth had he ended up in a place like this?
"What the hell is this place…?"
Wrinkling his nose in suspicion, Garfiel snorted.
His keen sense of smell — not quite on the level of a beastman, but useful for reading a situation — was picking up nothing useful. Scouring his surroundings by scent was practically instinct by now, but that sense wasn't cooperating.
It wasn't that he couldn't smell anything at all — it was more that nothing was grabbing hold of anything.
And if "nothing to grab hold of" was the problem, it wasn't just the scent. The surroundings were the same.
As mentioned, it was a dim space with a high ceiling. The chair Garfiel sat in wasn't alone — rows upon rows of chairs lined both sides. And there seemed to be multiple rows both in front of and behind him, placing him somewhere near the center.
Having gotten that far in his thoughts, Garfiel recalled a scene that looked something like this.
"This looks like a theater — y'know, where they put on plays and whatnot."
Once "theater" left his lips and the image solidified, that was all he could see.
That's right. Garfiel was in a theater, sitting roughly in the middle of the audience seats. The dim lighting, the high ceiling — everything was for the sake of the performance.
No sooner had Garfiel's understanding of the situation settled than, as if it had been waiting for exactly that, the loud, resonant ring of a bell echoed through the theater. — The signal for the curtain to rise.
"————"
Garfiel's eyes went wide and his body stiffened. Ignoring the turmoil inside him, a change took place at the front of the audience — the curtain rose, and the stage hidden behind it slowly revealed itself.
And standing on that stage, basking in the audience's gaze, was — .
"…A cat?"
The grimace on Garfiel's face distilled into that single mutter, a succinct summary of what he was looking at.
Sure enough, waiting on the stage for the curtain to rise was a tiny cat. A small gray-furred cat, standing on two legs with both paws spread wide.
It was even smaller than the kind of kitten-person Garfiel knew — smaller than Mimi — truly palm-sized.
One such cat, then two, then three appeared on the stage as the show began.
The cats all looked the same. Then, before Garfiel's eyes — swept along by events beyond his control — the three kittens began to move. Each one had donned a different prop.
One wore a golden wig. Another, a red wig. The last wore a tuft of white fluff atop its head.
And before Garfiel's blinking eyes, the three cats took their positions on the stage and launched into a dazzling display of movement.
The golden-haired cat and the white-fluffed cat collided, while the red-haired cat stood watching.
A bona fide tussle had erupted.
"What in the world is this…?"
Stunned, Garfiel watched the cats grappling on stage.
The set pieces were impressively detailed — a stone-built cityscape for the backdrop, with flats representing houses and walls that broke apart, collapsed, and were flung aside in tandem with the cats' battle.
It was quite the spectacle, earnestly put together — almost endearing in its excess.
"——Huh? That cat… I've seen it somewhere before."
Fixing his attention on the performing kittens, Garfiel felt something snag in his memory. He scratched at the almost-closed lid of recollection, and it slowly opened, releasing understanding.
Those kittens looked exactly like the illustrations
"No — so what the hell does that mean?!"
Having identified them but having no idea what it signified, Garfiel grew indignant. His voice, louder than intended, startled the kittens on stage into freezing mid-motion.
All three cast glances toward him, and Garfiel felt the heat rise to his face.
He wanted to insist there was no reason to apologize — but before he could — "——Idiot. Sit down, Garf."
"Oh…"
"Quietly enjoying the performance is basic theater etiquette. Are you trying to interrupt the show?"
The sudden rebuke made Garfiel turn — and his jaw dropped.
Where no one had been a moment ago, a girl with peach-colored hair —
Obedient to Ram's command, the kittens resumed their tussle. But for Garfiel, Ram was far more pressing than the performance.
"Ram, what the hell are you doing in a place like this? And what is this thing, anyway?"
"Garf."
"No, now ain't the time for — listen, we gotta get out of here! Finding out where this is can wait until I've made sure you're safe."
"Garf."
"Right — and tell me what you're thinking too. Honestly, having you help me figure this out would be better than me alone —"
"——Garf, don't you realize?"
Driven by mounting urgency, Garfiel's voice rose steadily — until Ram's words caught him short.
Before Garfiel's blinking, confused eyes, Ram kept her usual cool profile, her gaze fixed on the stage.
Feeling frustrated that the girl he admired wouldn't even look his way, Garfiel followed her line of sight and looked at the stage — at the unchanged tussle of the kittens.
But he noticed it — hidden within that seemingly unchanged fray.
The golden-haired kitten and the red-haired kitten faced off against the white-fluffed kitten as it rampaged, smashing through the cityscape backdrop — and finally, the golden-haired kitten was sent tumbling with a shove.
It crashed into a fallen flat.
What was being performed — ?
"Garf."
Once more, Ram's quiet voice called to him. Garfiel turned. Those pale-crimson eyes that had been watching the stage were now looking straight at him, their gazes colliding head-on.
Even as his heart raced at how close they were, what hammered inside Garfiel's chest was not love — but the alarm bells of instinct.
He recognized it. Ram let out a soft breath and said: "You're dying, you know."
And with that, she declared: what Garfiel was seeing was a theater born of a dying dream.
△▼△▼△▼△ ——The golden-wigged kitten that had tumbled across the stage. That was himself.
Understanding that, he had to admit the performance was pretty ridiculous.
The white-fluffed kitten was the enemy it faced. The red-haired kitten behind was the person it was protecting. Following that thread, his memories began to sharpen, bit by bit.
"Right — I'm in the middle of a fight with the 'Dragon' that the boss asked me to take on… So that white fluff is the Dragon!? The red hair is the old man!?"
"Quite the adorable transformation."
"I don't even wanna know which one you're comparing to — but that's not the point! If I don't get back right now—"
"Wait."
"Gwah!"
Having grasped the situation and lunged forward, Garfiel was yanked back by his necklace cord and let out a pained yelp. Ram had stopped him with brute force. Garfiel whipped around to snarl at her, teeth bared — "Wait, wait, Garfiel. Your big sis is right on this one. Chill out for a sec."
The voice belonged to
Subaru's body was that of a long-limbed youth — "long" was relative, of course. Compared to his usual self, he was taller, but not dramatically so.
"Hey — were you seriously about to think about something super painful?"
"Don't worry about it, boss. You're always going on about how your legs are too short and your torso's too long, right?"
"There's a difference between saying it yourself and someone else saying it! That's a thing, right? Right,
"Subaru, Ni-chan's play is at a really good part right now, so don't interrupt, okay?"
"Sorry, Subaru. I'll listen to what you have to say properly later…"
That temporarily restored to his longer-limbed form was being given the cold shoulder by both Beatrice on his lap and Emilia at his side. They were captivated by every move the kittens made on stage and had no time for Subaru.
Hearing that dejected exchange, Garfiel recalled that the name of the kitten — whom he'd never seen in person — was
Furthermore, he felt he'd seen Subaru and Emilia interact like this before.
"That's because this is based on the theater that inspired this space. See, when we all watched the play about the
"Garf-san, you really ended up loving theater, didn't you? I had a great time too, so I get the feeling."
"Otto-nii! Petra…"
Turning toward the voices behind him, Garfiel met Petra's waving hand and Otto's shrugging figure beyond her.
And past Otto, a woman with long golden hair was also visible — .
"Gaoh…"
"What's with that pathetic look, Garf? Besides, for once, Ram is making a perfectly reasonable point. Sit down and calm yourself."
"Calm — you tell me that, but…"
"Oh, you. After everything everyone's said, you still won't listen? Goodness, I thought you might have grown some in the time I haven't seen you, but you're still just as spoiled, Gaa-boy."
"Wh— Grand… Gran!?"
"…Why must you always rephrase it in the worst possible way?"
Garfiel's eyes went wide at the impossible sight of his grandmother Ryuzu standing alongside his big sister. Before he could even process it, Ram tugged his sash once more and forced him back into his seat.
"How about it? Feeling a little calmer?"
"Feeling calm when I'm surrounded like this in the 'Dagda Encirclement'? I only sat down because my legs gave out… What am I supposed to do?"
"It seems you're at least willing to listen to Ram now. That's enough."
"Well done, Sister."
"Uwah!?"
Ram nodded with her usual frosty expression, and the viewer in the seat directly in front suddenly turned around and interjected. Garfiel blinked — it was Ram's sister,
But the essential Rem, seemingly oblivious to Garfiel, turned back around again.
"Wh-what…?"
"This is just — Garfiel's image of Rem is still too vague in his head, so the reaction comes out fuzzy. This is within the range of my impression of her."
"If your impression's that accurate, how many more Rems are gonna show up in these seats?"
Subaru, who was fiddling with Beatrice's hair on his lap, provided the explanation. It sort of made sense in a hazy way, but if you can't properly reproduce the real person, maybe putting them in this theater at all was questionable.
"That's not it at all, Garf. You may not know Rem very well yet, but it's not that you don't notice her. That's why she's here."
"Right. The people who stick with you remain strongly in your heart. The depth of your relationship with the person themselves isn't what matters most in this case — that's the important takeaway."
"That's rough on the ol' ticker."
He was starting to get the rules of this theater, but having Frederica and — for some reason — Reinhard, who was seated in the rows behind, explain it to him made the whole thing feel unreal.
Well, it wasn't real. So feeling no sense of reality was probably the correct response. In all likelihood, Frederica and Reinhard had never exchanged words in the same place like this.
But — "The initial panic has settled. I just gotta sit tight and do what Ram said, yeah? I'm getting kinda sleepy…"
"Ha! Stop talking nonsense. If you fall asleep, you die."
"So it really IS dangerous!"
"Shh!"
The moment Garfiel's voice rose, Beatrice, Emilia, and Petra all pressed a finger to their lips in warning. Garfiel gnashed his teeth and fell silent.
He'd been told not to rush back, but then told he'd die if he settled in too much. What exactly did they want from him?
"You don't need a gift bag to head back, that's all I'm saying. No need to overthink it."
"Tch — you in my head too, you freakin'—"
"Oh my, I seem to be unwelcome. Still, blaming me would be rather unfair, so I won't bother apologizing — that would just be strange."
From the row behind, Roswaal crossed his long legs and needled him with that remark. Garfiel's gaze sharpened with irritation, and he was about to retort — but his words died in his throat.
He knew Reinhard was seated next to Roswaal; the sword saint had spoken to him before. But the problem was the person on Roswael's other side.
The dark-haired woman noticed Garfiel's stare and smiled enchantingly.
"My, what a fiery look. Even in a place like this, won't you cut me to your heart's content once more?"
"It wouldn't be fun. Besides, I'd feel bad about it for Meili. Pass."
"How disappointing. I don't mind that there's a place for me inside you, though."
"Elsa, you're so awful~"
Meili, sitting in the seat across the aisle from Garfiel on the other side of Rem, picked up Elsa's words with that blood-colored smile still lingering.
Gradually, the meaning behind the seating arrangement was becoming clear. That being the case, it was only natural that seated next to Elsa was a blue-skinned colossus with eight arms.
"————"
The giant kept his rock-hard expression, glanced at Garfiel, and said nothing.
Exposed to that wordless pressure, Garfiel took a small breath and clenched his fist, tight, tight, tight. And as he did, a small shadow leaned in from the seat ahead and wrapped its hand around his.
"Garf, you okay? You can totally do it, I'm sooo worried!"
"Mimi…"
"That's right. Garf is fundamentally a coward at heart."
Garfiel's right hand was taken by Mimi's wide, round eyes, and his left by Ram.
He looked up at both their faces, then let out a long, long breath.
This wasn't reality — Garfiel himself was dying. And yet, despite that, the people inside his head kept stopping him from rushing back, one after another speaking to him, almost like the "Sōmatō" Subaru had once told him about.
"But y'know, Garfiel — the life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing is supposed to be a rapid-fire replay of everything from birth to this very moment, not a summoning to a theater."
"…Then what the hell is this, boss?"
"Well, you gotta find that answer yourself."
"Well said, Subaru-kun. I'm genuinely impressed."
"——Yourself."
There'd been an unnecessary interjection squeezed in there, but Garfiel thought deeply.
If this wasn't a simple life-flashing-before-the-eyes and the answer was something he had to find for himself, then surely this was a final, fleeting reprieve — the last moments before Garfiel, dying, had to stand back up.
If he didn't rise immediately, he wouldn't be able to fulfill the role entrusted to him — .
"Hmm, which Ni-chan do I want to win more…?"
"I know. No matter how it turns out, let's watch over them properly…!"
Pay no heed to Garfiel's anxiety — Beatrice and Emilia's excitement as viewers was building toward its own climax.
Trembling with tension, the two clasped hands and were deeply moved by the bizarre tableau of Puck versus Puck versus Puck.
On stage, the golden Puck had fallen, and the red Puck was trying to stop the white Puck from reaching it — a dire situation, no less than — "——Red fur."
The red Puck was shielding the golden Puck and facing off against the white Puck.
The stage had shifted while Garfiel wasn't looking. If that reflected reality, then Garfiel's blood ran cold and his teeth ground together.
He had to get back — now — "——Idiot."
It was the same word he'd heard a thousand times, but unlike the usual barbed tenderness, this one carried a clearer note of rebuke.
Garfiel's eyes widened, and Ram — pointing at the stage with the hand that wasn't gripping his — said nothing more.
Drawn to look, Garfiel saw the situation had moved again.
The fallen golden Puck was getting up, pushing the red Puck aside. It charged toward the white Puck — and with a single strike from the white Puck, the golden Puck turned to light.
"One out. But there's no three-out rule for life. One out, and the game's over."
The golden Puck became light, and the red Puck — turning its back to flee — was likewise turned to light by the white Puck in pursuit. Only the white Puck remained on stage. Curtain.
Scattered applause rippled through the theater as the curtain descended. The white Puck took a deep bow. The performance was over — .
"Boo! That was no fun at all! Mimi isn't satisfied one bit!"
Mimi, whose hand still gripped Garfiel's just like Ram's, shot to her feet on the seat and caused a ruckus, tail bristling straight up.
But saying that now, when the outcome was already decided, shouldn't have made a difference — except it didn't work that way.
The next instant, the opening bell rang through the theater, and the lowered curtain rose once more.
And beyond it, the golden Puck that should have vanished and the red Puck that should have been turned to light were all back — the golden Puck fallen and shielded, the red Puck facing the white Puck — the climactic tableau had been replayed.
"This…"
Completely unable to grasp what was unfolding, Garfiel's throat trembled.
And to Garfiel, whose mind was going blank — "Rushing back blindly isn't going to cut it. So — what will you do?"
Ram closed one eye and asked, quietly.
Garfiel swallowed, then looked once more at the stage.
"You're wonderful, Big Sister."
He meant it from the bottom of his heart, and he agreed completely with this sister of the girl he still barely knew.
△▼△▼△▼△ On stage, the golden Puck was turned to light again and again.
The play seemed to allow a great deal of improvisation, heavily influenced by the opinions of the audience — suggestions of "what if we tried this?" and so forth.
Still — "Wouldn't it be something if I kicked the whole Imperial Capital clean over with one real kick?"
"What about deliberately taking an injury severe enough to split your body in half, making the opponent think you're dead, and then going for the kill shot?"
"The 'Dragon' may be a Dragon, but it seems to have some attachment. For instance, using an acquaintance in the capital as a hostage — what do you think?"
"Shut up — there's stuff you can't do even if you want to, and there's stuff you wouldn't even think to do because it's too cowardly! Keep quiet!"
Suggestions that would never make it onto the stage poured in, and Garfiel roared them all down, silencing the audience behind him in unison.
It was, after all, his own perception of their words and actions. He couldn't shake the feeling he was yelling at himself, which left a hollow taste.
"At minimum, using the terrain is essential. The difference in size is critical, but on the flip side, being smaller might give you openings to exploit."
"Yeah, for sure. Garf-san is smaller than that 'Dragon' and might lose a head-on shoving match… so you just gotta spin that into 'that's why you can win.'"
"The logic checks out, but practically speaking — how? Setting Garfiel aside, if it were me, there's no way I'd beat the 'Dragon' even if it was standing on its head."
"No one's expecting Subaru to slay a Dragon. That's Garfiel-only."
Meanwhile, his companions — seated in a row, his own mental constructs of them — were giving constructive advice, sounding even cleverer than Garfiel himself.
Which was, of course, exactly the kind of conversation the real versions would have — .
"Emilia-tan, do you have any advice for Garfiel?"
"Me? Let me see… Before he was hit like that — the place where he couldn't absorb
"That was a way more coherent answer than I expected!"
"Emilia-san, as expected!"
Watching the Pucking cats on stage, Emilia delivered her precise assessment. Subaru and Rem responded each in their own way. Garfiel wasn't sure if Rem's reaction was right, but perhaps her words were reflecting his own feelings directly.
In any case, something was gradually coming into focus.
But even if he piled all of this up and carried it back to reality, what were the chances it would actually be useful?
"Feeling anxious, Gaa-boy?"
"…Not anxious so much as — honestly, I just feel pathetic. That 'Dragon' is supposed to be my fight, the one the boss entrusted to me…"
Ryuzu peered into his face, and Garfiel spilled his bitter feelings.
He'd dove in full of bravado, nearly died in the heat of battle, and now — not content with all that — he was here, inside the theater he'd built in his own mind, being comforted by a crowd of comrades. Well, not all comrades, but people from his life, at any rate.
"What, exactly, is pathetic about that?"
"————"
Asked that, Garfiel — who had been scowling — looked up.
Ryuzu stood alongside Frederica, who was staring intently at him.
She narrowed her emerald eyes — the same shade as Garfiel's — and repeated the question: "What is pathetic about this, Garf?"
"Pathetic… You gotta be — everyone's fighting alone, and here I am like this…"
"So if you weren't fighting alone, it wouldn't be pathetic? Is that what you're saying?"
"That's — yes! No, wait. I'm not saying fighting together is pathetic. It's this — gathering everyone in my head like this and huddling together —"
"——That's impossible, Garf."
Beaten down to a wreck, clinging to the comrades inside his mind — Garfiel had tried hard to shake off that posture.
But Frederica said it plainly.
Narrowing her green eyes, she sighed at the rigid Garfiel and spoke: "You're a fool, Garf. Look around you."
"Look around…"
At her words, Garfiel surveyed the theater.
The comrades seated beside him, the enemies in the rows behind, the uncertain allies in the seats ahead — and, before he'd realized it, there were no empty seats left in the theater. Every last one was filled with a face Garfiel knew.
"————"
Of course Ram and Subaru were there. Roswaal and Reinhard. Mimi and Rem. And many, many others.
People from the Mathers domain. People he'd met along his journey through the Empire.
Those he liked, those he thought he could never befriend — every one of them shared a thread with Garfiel's life and had secured their seat.
"My, the theater is bursting at the seams. It won't be long before there's no room for anyone else."
Ryuzu, looking at the same thing, laughed in high spirits.
Just as the grandmother said, the full house had even given rise to standing-room spectators. All of them watched the Pucks on stage — watched the Puck playing Garfiel lose.
That fact made his face flush hot. It was a pathetic, ugly way to lose.
They must all have been exasperated with him — .
"——Idiot."
"Hey, Garf. This place is inside Garf's head, right? But Garf's not too bright. Same as Mimi! So everyone probably sees it the same way, right?"
Ram and Mimi spoke one after the other — from opposite sides.
Garfiel blinked.
And when he looked again, every gaze in the theater — all those who had been watching the stage — was now turned toward him. He studied each face and recalled what kind of person each was.
They had all freely said whatever they wanted, complaining about and mocking the Puck playing Garfiel as it was beaten down — .
"Nobody told me only what I wanted to hear… or held back anything else."
Ram's phrasing was blunt. Mimi's was vague. But they were saying the same thing.
If this theater in Garfiel's head had been built to comfort him in his dying moments, gathering his family, comrades, acquaintances, and even enemies — then that was pathetic beyond measure.
But Garfiel wasn't too bright.
He couldn't think that deeply — couldn't make people say things they wouldn't normally say, couldn't arrange pretty words like puppeteers to soothe his own heart.
"I know this is obvious, but what we talked about here can't just carry over directly outside. This is just comfort — a安慰. But even if all it does is give you a moment's peace, that's not nothing."
"Coming from the guy who asked me to stop the 'Dragon', that's quite a thing to say."
"I'm the version of Subaru inside your head!"
"Does that mean you think Garfiel is about to say something that sounds super hard and serious? Is that it?"
Emilia tilted her head and asked, and Garfiel let out a groan.
He looked up at the ceiling, thought for a while, then let his gaze fall.
"Maybe it's because I think the boss'll throw impossible stuff at me no matter what, so a version of the boss like that ended up inside my head."
"Even so, you know the people around you will push back. Honestly, I wonder where you picked up such devious little habits…"
"…Says Otto-sama, of all people."
Frederica smiled wryly, and Otto pointed at himself, looking offended. Petra giggled behind her hand, and the laughter spread.
Before Garfiel knew it, he was laughing too.
"…Maybe my head really had gotten pretty stiff."
"Oh? Gaa-boy, you think?"
"The boss asked me, sure. The whole empire is on the line, too. My opponent's a 'Dragon,' sure, and it's not like I've ever been okay with losing. But…"
Garfiel slowly unclasped the hands that had been pressing down on him from both sides. He raised them, then brought his now-free palms together in front of his chest with a sharp clap.
Grinding his teeth, he steeled his fighting spirit.
"This is my fight. The fight I was assigned. But it's not a fight I'm fighting alone."
"——Magnificent."
A low, weighty voice of praise overlapped Garfiel's surging resolve.
He didn't confirm whether it was the eight-armed giant in the row behind. Right now, there was only one thing he wanted to verify.
"You said it, boss! You said 'go take down that dragon flying around up there making all that noise'!"
"——I did! I said it! Now do it!"
"I'll be right back!"
With a spirited reply, Garfiel surged to his feet with all his strength.
And this time — for the first time — Ram didn't pull him back. Glancing over, he saw her with her arms crossed, eyes on the stage.
"What?"
"Ha! Nothing. Even if this is inside my head, you're no soft touch."
"I'm just not stating the obvious. That's Garf's job, after all."
Ram shrugged one slender shoulder, not even looking his way. Garfiel gave a wry smile. Instead, Mimi hopped up and stood on the seat.
"Then Mimi will say it! Garf — if you win here, you'll look so cool!"
Laughing as she spoke, Mimi's hand slapped Garfiel's back — hard.
One beat later, Subaru did the same. Then Beatrice, Emilia, Petra, Frederica, Ryuzu — all of them struck Garfiel's back.
As if pushed from behind, Garfiel was driven toward the theater's exit by the blows landing on his back.
"Otto-nii! Give me some advice!"
"Let's see… Dangerous, life-risking stunts — I won't permit anyone but myself to do them."
"Don't wanna hear it from you, Otto-nii!"
Clapped on the back by his big-brother figure with a joking air, Garfiel headed for the exit.
The hands that pushed open the door belonged to the younger siblings he hadn't spotted among the seats, and beyond them, his mother smiled with an arm around each of their shoulders. Garfiel gave a thumbs-up.
An encounter that filled a theater to the brim — a damn fine Sōmatō.
So, at the last moment, he pointed sharply at the Pucks on stage.
"——I'm not a cat! I'm the Gorgeous Tiger!!"
△▼△▼△▼△ "————"
The existence of the "Dragon" was often likened to natural disasters or cataclysms, and the "Cloud Dragon" Mezoreia displayed a fury that left no room to dispute the comparison.
Its assault reshaped the Imperial Capital into something utterly unrecognizable from what it had been minutes ago — an incarnation of destruction. The sight of it shattered Heinkel's heart, his knees trembling without cease at a scene that seemed impossible in this world.
For one fleeting instant, something had almost changed Heinkel's fate.
But it had been utterly demolished in a clash with the Dragon — blasted away by the full force of a roar that cracked the earth, buried under a rain of rubble.
He had told him — told him it was pointless.
The golden-haired boy, who had thrown his life away for nothing, in senseless, merciless fashion.
Heinkel could only watch, silent — .
"——I'm the Gorgeous Tiger!!"
In the next instant, the pile of rubble exploded from within, and a roar echoed.
Heinkel choked on shock at the sheer suddenness — and stood frozen as the figure who had blown the rubble away with an upraised fist — Garfiel — stared back at him.
"Ugh… crap… how long was I out…?"
Garfiel shook his head groggily and tore away his tattered jacket, asking the question. Heinkel blinked and said: "…About five seconds under the rubble."
"——Five seconds, huh. Nearly got killed ten times over. Close one."
Letting out a long, deep breath, Garfiel cracked his neck.
Heinkel was speechless — this was a man who had just survived an attack he was certain had killed him. But there were those whose astonishment surpassed even Heinkel's.
'Wh… at… !' It had been darting around, landing devastating blows that ignored the difference in size entirely. They had finally managed to bring it down.
It had been killed. That certainty was shattered in a mere five seconds — and Heinkel sympathized. Not that sympathy meant anything here — against a superbeing, a "Dragon."
'Why… why won't you die…?' "Hah? What kind of dumb question is that — of course I was dead! The old man gave me five seconds, is why."
"I-I didn't do anything…"
Heinkel shook his head at the stunned Dragon's words.
It was true that the moment Garfiel was sent flying and buried in rubble, Heinkel had drawn his blade and locked eyes with Mezoreia. But that was only because he'd known that if Garfiel fell, he'd be the next target. It was nothing more than a staredown.
'——! Dieeeee!!' Ignoring Heinkel's awareness entirely, Mezoreia's patience had reached its limit.
The Cloud Dragon charged at the standing-still Garfiel, raised its massive, elongated tail, and brought it down like a bolt of lightning.
Heinkel himself was nearly blown away just from the wind generated by its wings' beat as it closed in. The Dragon's superhuman strike plummeted straight toward Garfiel — .
"——Huh?"
In that instant, the Cloud Dragon's body blurred in midair, and the full length of it was slammed into the Imperial Capital's defensive wall.
'——!?' Flung backward, Mezoreia smashed into the wall spine-first, its breath ragged with confusion. Heinkel's mouth hung open too.
He didn't know how it had been done. But he knew who had done it and what.
——Garfiel had deflected the Dragon's tail strike and thrown the "Dragon" with his bare hands.
"Ugh… crap… I actually did it…"
Garfiel looked down at his own hands and muttered, inexplicably dissatisfied.
With the expression of someone who had dug up an unwanted memory, he opened and closed the hands that had just hurled a dragon, then turned around.
Those emerald eyes collided head-on with the Cloud Dragon's inverted gaze.
And — .
"Well, whatever. Let's go — Round Two. — I'm the only one with a mountain of fans cheering me on, so it ain't fair, but what can you do!"
Fueling his fighting spirit on incomprehensible logic, Garfiel and the Cloud Dragon clashed once more after that brief interruption — a chapter of myth hurtling toward its conclusion.