"Hmph—"
Ermes threw his punch.
His fundamental fighting style—martial arts centered on striking. Combined with Enhanced universal magic, this allowed him to partially overcome the core weakness of mages: being vulnerable once an opponent closed in.
Having been trained by Rose, his proficiency far exceeded what his age would suggest. The full-powered fist, carrying his entire body weight, bore down on Chrono—
"——"
"!?"
A sweeping arc—
He dodged.
Not with a linear motion to intercept, but a curved one. In a single step, Ermes' fist slipped past him—then, from the side, Chrono guided the force away as though seizing his wrist, and threw a counterpunch at Ermes, whose stance had already crumbled.
Ermes barely dodged it by a hair's breadth, but a high kick immediately followed. Deciding it was impossible to evade, he managed to clamp his arms around it—only to be blown away, guard and all, by the extraordinary impact.
"Gh—!"
...As expected. There was no mistake.
Chrono had also mastered some form of close-combat technique. Moreover, something Ermes had never seen before, honed to a level comparable to his own current skill.
So Ermes, with genuine curiosity, asked him about it.
"...What technique is that?"
"From an eastern kingdom—not Yustia. I spent quite a bit of time away from this land, you know."
That made sense. No wonder he'd been completely unfamiliar with it.
Even after that, Ermes continued to be thrown off balance by Chrono's curving movements and strikes. Before he knew it, he had been pushed entirely onto the defensive—and when he finally managed to break through the barrage, catching his breath, Chrono spoke to him.
"I know this might be overstepping, coming from someone you created, but... wasn't banning magic going a step too far?"
"...You're right. I was thinking the same thing, honestly."
"If magic is banned, the fight inevitably becomes one of pure physicality alone. We magic users can bolster our physical abilities to some extent through magic power manipulation, but there's a limit to that."
He said it as though savoring the match, while also driving the fact home.
"Which means a gap nearly equivalent to what you'd see in a non-magical fight becomes glaringly obvious. The gap in physique."
"..."
"I may have stopped growing, but I'm still a grown man. You, on the other hand, are only fifteen—and on top of that, you're rather slight for your age. That's a significant advantage. It can easily overwhelm even a moderate difference in technique."
"Yes, you're absolutely right. But—"
Acknowledging Chrono's point, yet refusing to yield nonetheless.
From there, it was no longer words but action. Ermes dodged Chrono's fist and, using Chrono's planted knee as a stepping stone, launched himself into the air.
"!?"
Carrying his upward momentum into a spinning roundhouse kick. Mirroring the blow he'd just received, he aimed for the side of Chrono's head and blasted clean through his guard.
As if returning the very answer he'd just given—Ermes delivered the technique *only someone light on their feet could pull off*, and upon landing, declared:
"Like that. It's precisely to overturn those kinds of 'innate differences' that wisdom and skill exist. That applies well beyond magic, wouldn't you say?"
"...Yeah, you're right."
"Your techniques—those strange, unpredictable movements gave me some trouble at first—but I think I'm starting to get a handle on them. May I start fighting back now?"
Despite the impudent tone, Chrono returned a grin as though that was exactly what he'd been hoping for.
...At some point without either of them remarking on it, Chrono had stopped using formal speech. Neither needed to put it into words—they both understood it as proof of their growing bond.
And so, Ermes with evident enjoyment, and Chrono too, moving his body freely for the first time in his life without any restraint—they continued exchanging blows.
A bare-knuckle brawl that should have been savage, yet they carried on like friends at play, trading fist after fist.
...It was perhaps—
The first—and only—exchange of feelings in this kingdom's history, conducted without magic as an intermediary.
One fighting for the kingdom's survival in a new form. The other for the kingdom's utter annihilation.
Without rank or station, as equals, they hurl their feelings at one another through their fists.
And amid it all—
Whether it was because they were inside a domain that sealed magic, or perhaps a side effect of the wish poured into that spell—
Faintly, yet unmistakably, it seemed as though Chrono's feelings were reaching him through each blow.
Believing it was no trick of the mind, Ermes poured his own feelings into his counterattack. This time, more clearly than before, shaping it into a question.
——Come to think of it, there was something I wanted to ask you.
——What's that?
A clear answer came back.
Both Ermes and Chrono were surprised by it.
Yet both of them, it seemed, decided to cast aside the finer logic and ride that momentum anyway—continuing their strange, almost miraculous dialogue alongside the exchange of blows.
——Why did you come to hate this kingdom?
——Ah, right—I never told you about that, did I?
As they traded thrusts and parries like a choreographed dance, Chrono poured out his feelings.
——Unlike the other three executives, there wasn't any one particular event that set it off.
——There… wasn't?
——No. If anything, it was more of an accumulation. For instance…
From there, riding a single barrage of consecutive strikes—
——My younger brother was put through the same '
...the same 'Evil God's Blazing Curtain' Bloodline Magic when he was born, and just for that alone, treated as though he never existed by his own family.
——!?!
——A girl whose family had long been close with ours, branded a heretic by the church and killed, simply for having stood up for me.
The concubine of my father who had been kind to me—unable to bear a child with superior Bloodline Magic, she was treated so cruelly by my mother that she took her own life.
That was... far too heavy a litany to recount so evenly. And yet, Chrono did just that.
——That's all it was. A pile of things that are "commonplace in this country," stacking up one on top of another, and before I knew it, I came to want to destroy every last thing about this place. That's all there is to it.
Commonplace. He called it commonplace—stories that are all too common in this country.
......Hearing that, Ermes understood. All of him—every one of those feelings.
——Is that so. You...
——Yeah.
——You...
Have always been righteous.
And remained decent.
In this twisted country—a country where twisted things are deemed acceptable—you never lost sight of what truly matters as a human being. Not until the very end. That's precisely why it turned out this way, isn't it?
This country is wrong. With the existence of Bloodline Magic and the interference of inhuman beings, it was surely rotten from the very start—by design.
Ermes was no different. Having lost his emotions once due to his childhood experiences, he had developed a sense of values that even he recognized as warped somewhere deep down.
......But Chrono—only he—had not lost sight of what it meant to be human, even in a place like this. He was neither swept away nor twisted, because he held on to the feelings one ought to carry.
That was precisely why he could rise to lead an organization that would bring annihilation, armed with the conviction that this country should perish—and that, too, was one correct answer.
That was surely something magnificent. Something to be proud of.
Receiving those words, Chrono froze for an instant, caught completely off guard—and in that moment, Ermes's fist landed clean.
——Ah.
——Ghh, haha. No, that wasn't your fault. It's on me for letting my guard down. But... ah, I see.
Meanwhile, Chrono readjusted his stance and threw another punch.
——So you'd say that. About me.
Compared to before, there was something gentler in the feelings that came through.
And yet, neither of them held back the slightest.
From there, things no longer took the form of clear conversation — but the sound of fists carrying feelings that neither would yield echoed on ceaselessly through the silent underground.
From that point on, exhaustion mounted for both of them.
There was no longer any room for defense. At close range, they threw punches relentlessly, and every single one landed.
They hit back exactly as many times as they were hit, and when their bodies lurched backward they stubbornly dragged themselves forward to strike again.
It was far too savage, far too primitive — and yet no one should have intruded. That kind of sacred, primal brawl existed right there.
Their feelings were coming through.
From Chrono's fists — the impossibly vast, powerful feelings he had packed into them.
This country is wrong. Going forward, wrong ways of being will keep being born. That is why I will destroy it. I believe that is the right thing to do, and I cannot help but do it.
That was certainly true. As an answer that emerged from having seen this country in its entirety, it was undoubtedly close to the ideal. There was no clear material with which to deny it.
...And perhaps Chrono's convictions were not something that could be countered by mere decades of accumulated effort.
But Ermes, too, had his own feelings.
This country may indeed be wrong.
But even so, there are wonderful things within it. Beautiful things, things that should be preserved, things that should be connected. From all the people and all the magic Ermes had encountered until now, he genuinely believed that.
So he would see to it that it survived. Abolish what was wrong, and carry forward what was good. It would take a great deal of time and tremendous effort — but even so, they could truly change it. They themselves would change it.
Carrying that resolve, Ermes continues to throw his fists back.
...Feelings know no rank, and wishes know no hierarchy.
That is precisely why, as long as there are people, they sometimes clash. They become disputes.
Perhaps it is an inevitable fate of being human. That is why, even now, just as they have since ancient times, they are engaged in this stubborn brawl.
But even so. Surely there is meaning in doing this.
At the same time. The wish for destruction, for ruin, and the wish for survival, for protection.
When these equal many such wishes collide with one another... even then.
Surely, if only by a little, it enables the number of protective wishes, of desires to continue, to grow. Ermes believes this.
The time to prove it has arrived.
Both fists, long past their limits, cross and strike true to each other's faces.
Ermes's vision wavers. Chrono's body also crumbles and tilts.
His knees buckle, he begins to fall. Just as Ermes was about to fall backward onto the sky—
—Their eyes met. With the people watching over their battle.
There were Katia's eyes, which held a genuine worry but also a clear will.
There were Sarah's eyes, lowered slightly as if in prayer, yet never missing a thing.
There were Nina's eyes, filled with a dazzling admiration and trust.
There were Albert's eyes, looking straight at him as the one they were all striving toward.
There were Rose's eyes, watching her beloved disciple's path and choices with quiet, true affection.
And then, there were Liliana's. She, who had only just awoken.
Without understanding why she was here, yet still.
There was a gaze, purely and simply, directed at her own teacher. At her most trusted retainer. Eyes filled with nothing but faith.
Seeing those eyes, a faint spark of strength returned to Ermes's failing body.
She poured every last ounce of it into her legs, drove her feet into the ground, and surged forward.
"————!!"
An all-or-nothing gamble. The final fist, bearing everything she was — and everything beyond herself.
——It pierced beautifully into the center of Chrono's chest, right where his heart lay.
I poured the feelings Ermes gained over the course of these three chapters at you in the most passionate form I could. I hope you enjoyed it!
Next time — after the resolution. Please do read it!