Chapter 582 - Here
The 11th 'Four Pillar War' Selection Match. The second day, the latter half of the latter half.
A serious match where rank-holders from the same faction, having duly won their way through, publicly clash is one of the biggest events even for the conflict-loving Eastern Faction. Thus, the stage prepared is not the usual selection match field, but a special arena capable of accommodating several times more spectators.
It might not be a Budokan… but the concentrated fervor is surely no less. And even for someone like me, who has grown used to being the center of attention—
"There's no way I wouldn't be nervous in this situation…"
—it's enough to make me mutter weakly with a wry smile, even with my fighting spirit now set.
There's probably some kind of soundproofing, either through magic or the system. The countless voices reaching the stage should be filtered down to one-hundredth, or perhaps one-thousandth of their actual volume… and yet, this pressure, this presence, feels like it could crush me.
Countless gazes, countless minds, countless voices—this is different from the attention I get over the internet. This is the extraordinary focus of real, live avatars.
My body feels like it's about to start trembling on its own… which is exactly why I think…
"You're way too calm. It's starting to piss me off."
"Get used to it, junior. Adapting and adjusting is your specialty, isn't it?"
On the other side of the spacious arena, the composed stance of the 'senior' standing before me makes me want to voice at least one unreasonable complaint.
It feels strange to say it myself, but my climb up the ladder has been both expected and smooth.
I've managed to avoid any major slip-ups, all while trying to draw out the potential of my challengers and put on a show for all the eyes watching me…
In truth, I feel like I've somehow managed to fulfill my duties and make it this far.
The sixth match of the second day. My opponent: the blade of the [Peerless].
"…………Well, don't be so tense."
The 'wall' that once stood in my way under a different name gave a faint smile, as if recreating that very moment. At the same time, he raised the right hand he had previously offered for a handshake, and said,
"I won't hold back my expectations, like I did before."
And so, the guy who had, over time, changed from an 'unknown celestial' to a friend…
"—I understand your strength now. Show me what you've got, Haru."
—provoked me with a refreshingly infuriating coolness, as if demanding something perfectly natural.
"……………Seriously, every last one of you."
Or perhaps, I should just be exasperated with myself.
Maybe I'm just 'easy to handle,' getting fired up endlessly every time I'm provoked, and it's not that my friends and acquaintances are particularly good at it.
Well, whatever.
It's fine now.
Lotta told me it would be a waste to just burn through it without thinking, but I think that against this guy… for this stage, I don't need to think about difficult things.
A rematch, sworn in earnest. A declaration made four months ago, that next time we would fight with everything we had and I would win. After four months that felt both longer and shorter than I expected—
"Irori."
"Yeah."
From that day when I was still just a diamond in the rough, I ran.
I ran, and I soared—
"I've made it here."
I didn't take a step forward.
As if to simply show that I had arrived, I lifted my right foot slightly and brought it down quietly—and a roar and a tremor shook the ground, a small crack racing across the arena stage.
It wasn't meant as a performance.
It was an act of releasing heat, a way to vent my overflowing excitement and compose my heart. Irori saw it, unflinching, and his smile only deepened—as he drew his sword.
"I've been waiting. Much longer than you have."
He held his [Frostblade Shirosou] with its blue blade in a perfect center stance. I noticed its tip was trembling ever so slightly, and I couldn't help but smile myself.
To think I'd see such a clear warrior's tremble in person for the first time.
""——————————""
I'm sure the silence wasn't just my imagination. For a moment, in a space where the clamor had ceased, the two of us just stared at each other. Inhale, exhale, a deep breath in, and out… —
I drew the crimson dagger from my lower back.
This isn't a recreation of that day. I will simply, with everything I am now—
"Istia, Fourth Rank, [Acrobat]."
"Istia, Third Rank, [Peerless]."
—on this stage where the Acrobat truly began, take on this challenge once more.
""—Let's fight.""
To overcome the unbreachable wall.