The dangerous character known as Feodor Jessman also heard the ringing alarms.
“They found out quicker than expected, huh?”
He’d thought he’d had at least a ten-minute head start, but this was still the Winged Guard in the end. He needed to hurry.
At the moment, Feodor was in the room he called home…rather, had called home as a fourth officer. It seemed that the troops assigned to search the room were already gone, and no guards had been posted either. Traces of their invasion were strewn all over the room; most notably, nearly all the top-secret documents he had gathered over the years had been taken, and the hiding place under the floor for the Bead Bottles he’d recently obtained was empty as well. Aside from that, everything else was more or less intact.
Feodor pulled off his dirty uniform, replacing it with a fresh change of civilian clothes from his drawer. Fixing his belt pouch securely, he stuffed whatever he could grab into it. Casting his eyes around his room again, he noticed a weighted rope in the corner and briefly wallowed in nostalgia before grabbing a pair of spare glasses and putting them on. After some thought, he changed his mind and stashed them in his breast pocket instead.
“Gotta hurry up,” he muttered to himself as he put on thick-soled boots built for covert operations, then shouldered the items he’d filched from the Confidential Warehouse before he came to this room. Finally, he left the room behind him, suppressing his presence so that no one would notice—
“Fwedo?”
He started and looked down.
A blue-haired child stood at around knee-height, staring up at him with a puzzled expression.
“Ryehl…”
“Fwedo go?” Ryehl asked, blinking anxiously. Even if she didn’t fully understand the meaning of the ringing alarm, she must have sensed the uneasy atmosphere.
“…Yeah,” Feodor answered, choking back sudden bitterness. “I am.”
“No!” She latched on to his leg. “No go! No leave!”
“Stop being selfish. It’s late, so why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep?”
“No!” Her small, trembling hands squeezed around his leg tightly.
Feodor wanted to hug her, to calm her down with kind words. But he’d lost that right, so instead he grabbed Ryehl’s shoulders and forcibly pried her off.
“…Always so lively…”
“Fwedo…” she looked like she was about to cry. “When back?”
Feodor didn’t respond. He turned his back.
“Fwedo…”
He ignored the pitiable voice calling his name over and over.
“Fwedo…Fwedo! Fwedo! Fwedo!”
Ryehl cried without giving up, as if she understood that doing so would chain Feodor down here. But all the same, he couldn’t give up. He had to leave.
With all his might, Feodor forced his feet to move forward, one step at a time. And then—
“…Da!”
Hearing such an unexpected word, his feet couldn’t move another step.
“Y-you…”
Feodor knew.
He knew just how much the beings known as faeries longed for family. As irregular, ephemeral existences that naturally manifested without parents, maybe that was why they acted more like sisters than real sisters and treated each other with more love than real families.
He understood what it meant to be called father by a faerie child. The weight of that word, and the depth of the love behind it.
Honestly. Who in the world taught her that?
“I’m…”
Feodor steadied his shaking legs. And then, determinedly keeping his eyes forward, he broke out into a run as if fleeing from her.
“Da!”
Desperately running away from Ryehl and those words he couldn’t possibly accept.
By itself, breaking out of the base wasn’t that difficult.
Despite the rather heavy security now deployed, Feodor knew the whole area like his own backyard. He could find as many holes in the security, as many ways to escape, as he pleased.
The real problem was afterward, lying in wait for Feodor on a side road branching from the main street leading into Lyell.
The problem took the form of a girl carrying a sword about as tall as she was.
“Why—why are you here?” Feodor gasped out. Running and hiding while carrying a heavy package had tired him out considerably.
“Because I’ve heard a lot about you,” Tiat answered.
“Okay…and what’s with the outfit?”
Her equipment wasn’t limited to just her dug weapon. This time she also had ostentatious and clumsily-forged plate armor covering her hands and feet. They shone with a dull silver luster, and no matter how you looked at it, they were at least one size too large for her. It would obviously be of little help against the Beasts. He couldn’t imagine it being considered appropriate equipment for a leprechaun whose only use would be to fight them.
“Anti-Feodor preparations,” Tiat replied blandly. “I’ve been thinking about our last fight. When it comes to fighting people, us leprechauns’ greatest weaknesses are our weak body frames and light weight. Unlike strength or reach, we can’t compensate for those with just weapons and venenum. So I thought I’d use this to increase my weight.”
“Just for me?”
“Yep. Just for you.”
I’m so honored.
“…I’ll ask, just to give it a shot. Could you please move aside, Tiat?”
Feodor took a step forward. The distance between them shrank.
“Nope.”
“You heard the alarm, right? This is my order as your superior. First-class equivalent soldier Tiat Siba Ignareo, return to the compound immediately and assist with security.”
“Again, nope.”
Tiat raised her sword until the tip pointed straight at Feodor. Just as she’d done before, on that night.
“I’ve asked people about you. I learned a lot. You’re the same as me, aren’t you?”
What is she talking about—?
“You were using your brother-in-law as an excuse for a dramatic suicide.”
…Ah. That.
She probably heard it from the First Officer. Honestly, what a thing to go and tell someone like her.
Feodor shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, I won’t deny it. I only realized it recently, anyway. It just took one failure for me to finally understand myself.”
Truthfully, Feodor hadn’t wanted to change Regule Aire, nor did he want to destroy it. Rather, whether he changed or destroyed it, he really just wanted to risk his life for the sake of a grand ambition.
“Then does that mean you’ve given up already?”
“Maybe. I can’t be like my brother-in-law, and surpassing him? That’s an even more reckless dream. I’ve given up on part of it. But…”
Feodor placed his hand on the package he was shouldering. Around its hilt.
“But the other part… I can’t bring myself to throw it away.”
Almost falling forward from the weight, Feodor threw off the cloth covering it.
It was a gigantic sword.
Formed from dozens of metal pieces joined by a strange power, it was a relic of the ancient emnetwiht. They had not been powerful creatures by any reckoning of the word, yet they’d been able to crystallize miracles in order to fight enemies far stronger than themselves.
What Feodor hefted in his hands was the dug weapon, Seniorious.
The weight of the huge lump of metal was painfully evident. It was so heavy he wanted to swear, but Feodor somehow managed to take a fighting stance.
“You should just give up,” Tiat said with an unsurprised expression. “Dug weapons were created by the emnetwiht for the emnetwiht. Anyone who isn’t an emnetwiht or directly related can’t use them. If someone from an unrelated race touches them, the contact alone is enough to burn.”
“…I’m thankful my ogre parents brought me into this world, then,” Feodor bluffed wildly, sweat running down his brow. “For now, my hands are fine.”
In reality, needles of biting, stabbing pain were spreading through his palms. The dug weapon’s rejection of un-emnetwiht beings wasn’t immediately fatal, but it was regardless very much uncomfortable.
“Even so, you’d never be able to bring out Seniorious’ power. She only lends her strength to special people.”
“Yup, looks that way. But even if I just use it as a big lump of iron, it beats being unarmed.”
Feodor doubted he was impressive enough to be someone chosen. He knew he was definitely far from being capable of wielding the power restricted to those lofty individuals.
But even if he was a totally worthless person, forsaken and unloved, he still had things he refused to give up on.
“You’re a stubborn one, Feodor.” Tiat smiled gently. “Yup, as I thought. I really, really hate that part of you.”
“Aren’t you being awfully blithe about this? I really, really hate that part of you too.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Then why are you saying it with such a carefree expression? It felt like what they were talking about had diverged at some point.
“I think I finally understand,” Tiat said. “I understand what the world you want is. I understand just how kind of a person you actually are. I understand how much pain you’ve gone through because of that warped kindness. And I understand how stubborn you are, to the point where you can’t let go of that pain.”
The outstretched tip of her sword wavered slightly, then returned to its readied position.
“So I’ve decided, Feodor.”
She slowly breathed in, then exhaled. Her smile vanished, replaced by a mask of determination. And then she quietly stated her declaration:
“I’ll make myself a problem for you.”
Before those oddly-familiar words had a chance to fully register, Feodor was stepping forward. He took advantage of a gap in her breathing to close the distance between them.
The last time they’d fought, Tiat’s speed and strength had far surpassed his. One of the few things on his side was what she’d referred to earlier—the differences in their build and weight. If he could knock her off balance and pin her down like before, he’d have a chance of neutralizing her.
But those gauntlets really are getting in the way!
She hadn’t been joking about having them as a countermeasure for him. The armor added enough weight that just light pushes and shoves wouldn’t be enough to budge her. Obviously, striking her arms or legs were out of the question now as well, and grappling with her would be difficult. Normally the additional weight would’ve dulled her movements…but with venenum supplementing her physical strength, Tiat could completely disregard that.
On the other hand, Feodor had barely enough strength to swing the bulky sword in his hands, never mind directing it where he wanted it to go. The number of moves he could manage was laughable. No matter what, he wouldn’t be a match in pure power.
Then I’ll do what I can!
Feodor’s attack would have to come from his own unique strengths. Venenum granted incredible power, but that power still ultimately obeyed the thoughts of the user. If he could catch her by surprise at the right time, or hit her from a blind spot, there’d be a chance she wouldn’t respond in time.
That was the hope he desperately clung to as he made a show of swinging Seniorious down from his left to right, quickly letting go with his left hand once Tiat couldn’t see it and grabbing at her diaphragm. If it worked, he’d be able to force the air out of her and dull her movements.
“Wh—?!”
She probably didn’t predict what he had been planning. Surprise flashed across her face, and her reactions with Ignareo were noticeably slow, but she still managed to react. Easily slapping away Seniorious, she twisted away, and Feodor’s fingers missed their mark, only brushing the side of her uniform.
“Disgusting!”
“Don’t misunderstand!” Feodor half-turned and thrust his shoulder against the underside of Tiat’s arm, shoving his foot at her legs and trying to topple her with all his strength.
But just as the faerie was about to fall over, she suddenly stopped herself with a defiant scream, illusory wings streaming from her back and pushing her upright.
“What the hell?!”
“Talmareet pounded all sorts of training for head-on battles into me!”
“What a fortunate student you are!”
Talmareet, the older ailuranthrope private first class. A rarity even among beastmen, he had an astounding physique with comically muscled arms, which he made full use of as a master of his own martial arts style. He was hard to please, looked constantly grumpy, and never seemed to get along with anyone.
Feodor knew already that Talmareet was on bad terms with Portrick, who was similarly strong, but both of them had a soft spot for Collon. He had no idea when Tiat had gotten so close to him as well.
He gritted his teeth in frustration. A full half of his options were gone. In the last battle, Tiat hadn’t really been looking at Feodor the way she did now. She had been too focused on the expanding Croyance and chasing after her admired senior. That’s probably why he’d been able to hold his own back then.
But now—now she was focused completely on the opponent right in front of her. She wasn’t presenting any easy openings for him.
“You’re strong, Tiat!” He struck out with Seniorious again.
It was quickly rebuffed. “That’s right!”
“It’d be a much better idea to use that power for peace!”
“Thanks, but I’ve already made up my mind!”
Their blades locked together, Tiat swept at his waist with a high kick. It was an awkwardly positioned attack and normally would be light enough for him to disregard, but the heat of her ignited venenum transformed her armored foot into a deadly hammer. Feodor fell back hastily and barely dodged. The toes of her boot still caught the hem of his shirt, easily tearing through it.
Cold sweat pricked his forehead. “N-nothing good will come of making decisions like that when you’re young! Trust me, I’d know!”
“Don’t say such pathetic things so proudly! Besides, you’re still young, aren’t you?!”
“That may be, but as far as society’s concerned, I’ve already reached the end of the line!”
“Oh, you’re bragging about your misfortune? To us?!”
“But you all can still turn back from the brink! Rather, why don’t you go do that?!”
“You’re still alive too! There’s no reason you need to die, so live properly!”
What are we even saying?
All of Feodor’s senses and concentration was focused on fending off Tiat’s attacks. That meant the control he had over his mouth was nowhere to be seen, and his innermost thoughts poured out carelessly.
Tiat was probably trying her hardest to not hurt him. That’s why, despite the clearly overwhelming difference in their strength, she hadn’t already ended the fight with a lethal slash or blow. She was probably waiting for him to tire himself out by continuing to rain down attacks he could barely defend against…or rather, asking him to give up.
Even knowing her intentions, Feodor didn’t have any way to respond. He could only move how she wanted him to, swinging the sword and parrying with all his might as the time he had left gradually dwindled away.
“You blockhead!”
“No, you!”
Feodor had possibly lost any chance of winning the moment his first surprise attack had failed. Even if that was the case, he could hardly surrender without doing a thing. If she wanted to win by pushing him to his limits, he’d just need to find some other chance before that happened. Whether it was or wasn’t possible didn’t matter anymore. As long as there was something, anything he could still do, he’d never give up—
Dizziness.
His vision shook violently and distorted.
It was the same sensation he’d felt several times since yesterday.
Unfamiliar scenes suddenly swam up from the depths of his memories. Lizards, large as mountains. Shiny claws waving overhead. If those swing down, my life will be reaped for sure. I won’t even leave a corpse behind, just an unsightly mess.
What is this?
The questions and confusion firmly shattered Feodor’s already-strained concentration. For a moment he felt as if he was floating, his feet failing to reach the ground as his body reflexively relaxed.
Ah…
Huh…?
Ignareo was about to come down.
It was an overly exaggerated swing. Its speed and destructive power were anything but ordinary, but struggling to parry the blow wouldn’t have been difficult. However, that would only have been true if Feodor had kept moving as he’d been. With his posture broken and concentration fractured, that was but a distant dream. Additionally, at this point even Tiat herself wouldn’t be able to pull back her sword.
If it hits, I will die.
…
His vision dyed pure white.
Dizziness.
Something took hold of his body.
Impossibly, his feet touched the ground. He forcefully twisted his body, generating inertia and centrifugal force. His outstretched right palm gently brushed against Ignareo. And then, gathering the various forces acting on his body, he channeled them all through the palm of his hand.
With an intense, explosive impact, Feodor was blown away.
He bounced off the ground twice and finally crashed into a tree, a shower of leaves and flowers sent flying and falling all around him. All the wind left his lungs in a choked gasp, soon followed by his sense of pain returning.
“G-ghh, gaah…”
What…just happened?
On the brink of death, he’d unconsciously awakened some kind of ridiculous power…? No, even that wouldn’t explain what had happened just now.
That wasn’t simply a forceful push, but probably some kind of striking technique. It was different in nature from what Portrick or Talmareet would use. It had likely been created by a race not blessed with strong bodies, seeking the most optimal ways to use their physiques. A secret technique that could only be mastered as a result of unimaginable training.
Of course, Feodor hadn’t gone through any such training. While it wasn’t quite evident, after using that special move, pain was expanding through every corner of his inexperienced body. It felt as if every single muscle he had was being burned to ash.
“Eh…?”
Tiat seemed similarly confused. Her wide, disbelieving gaze flicked between her empty hands to where Feodor had been blown away, and finally to Ignareo, blown in the opposite direction.
“That just now was…no, that can’t be…”
After muttering absentmindedly for a while, she snapped out of it and went to grab Ignareo. Returning, she knelt by Feodor.
“I don’t really get what just happened, but…that’s the match.”
She worriedly leaned over and looked into his eyes. Really, it seemed like it’d have been more proper if she’d pointed her sword at him.
“…Not yet. I…I haven’t given up yet…”
Feodor strained. He couldn’t put any power into his movements. It was impossible. Even if his mind was willing, his body was just too weak.
“Don’t overdo it. You’re probably seriously hurt somewhere you don’t know about.”
“You’re being ridiculous… I’m fine… I could run ten laps around the whole base right now…”
Tiat rolled her eyes. “Your condition really must be terminal if you’re still lying so weakly at a time like this.”
…Damn it. Looks like lies won’t work anymore.
“I’m taking you with me.” Tiat reached out and touched Feodor’s shoulder. Pain thundered through his entire body and his face contorted, unable to hide it as she whipped her hand back.
Resisting the urge to scream, Feodor turned it into a complaint instead. “…How disgusting…”
She sighed. “Don’t be that way. Come on, relax—”
Another voice unexpectedly cut in. “That’s enough.”
Tiat sprang back. Unable to move his neck, Feodor could only swivel his eyes in their sockets.
“You were late, so I came back to check on you. Looks like I was just in time.”
Apparently, she’d left her red wig behind somewhere.
Lakhesh Nyx Seniorious stood there in the moonlight, wearing a simple female military uniform, her brilliant orange hair exposed and blowing in the wind.
“Stand down, faerie soldier. I won’t allow you to take him away.”