Chapter 702 - Flame and Blaze Dance
"—How in the world are you not down yet?!"
"—I've gotten used to fighting opponents with spatial control for… various reasons, you know…!!"
Beyond the curtain woven from the ceaseless assault of black flame threads. I shouted a random reply back at the snappy retort, which sounded like a concoction of impatience and exasperation, boiled down and unified under anger.
I wasn't just spouting nonsense for the sake of it; I was simply talking without thinking because I had no spare resources to waste. Constructing a technique for constant, pseudo-Shukuchi; selecting the precise points to unleash my blades to disrupt the encirclement; determining the limit of how long I could remain stationary and reading the timing to switch locations… I had absolutely no leeway.
The lethal 'threads' clad in black flame—the Fourth Tier Anima, [Little Snow Besen]—were half-material, half-magical marionette strings that would flow endlessly until their master, Natsume, ran out of magic.
Driven by both the physical manipulation of her ten fingers and her thoughts, they painted a picture of鬼-like movements, exquisitely precise, ever-changing, and free-flowing. I had already memorized their patterns from our first encounter, but…
Man, this is rough. There's no opening to counterattack.
"Seriously! Actually fighting you for real is…! You're five times stronger than I expected!"
"—You seemed to have a pretty low estimate of me, didn't you!"
"That wasn't my intention at all—…!"
Seventy percent prediction, twenty percent intuition. The moment I instinctively dropped to the ground and lowered my head, a 'thread' feigning nonexistence amidst the conspicuous black glow danced past and throttled the empty air.
If I had been caught, one can only imagine the fate of my head. Of course, it didn't end there—the darkness, my true foe, swarmed the prey that had lost its rhythm.
Separate from the main assault, the prison of black flame threads completely surrounding me had no holes.
In other words, there was no escape route. If I wanted to try and evade, the minimum requirement was a precision pinball act, threading a needle inside a sealed space where lethal sparks danced wildly.
Heh—like hell I can do that.
"Hah, Second Strike…!"
Outer Force Output: 'Revolve,' Critical Convergence.
"…'Ripple'!!"
I unleashed it—the trajectory of a blade drawing countless circles in an instant. A flash of pure wind, devoid of magic, shredded the approaching fatal blows from all directions, and the black-flame dragon collapsed in mid-air.
But it wasn't over yet.
The remnants raining down like black snow were also of the touch-and-you're-out, bastard variety. So, to hope for a break, I needed one more thing—[Reject Sentence].
I summoned the crimson cylinder, the [Ruby Rabbit Bullet]. The gun's barrel, sprouting a myriad of red crystals, had surpassed its usual matchlock size to become enormous.
"Matchlock Linkage Twelve-Style Spread Warhead—'Sparrow'."
"Wha—wait—"
Beyond the tattered veil, I could see the [Thread-Weaver] about fifteen meters away. It was a shame she was out of range, but I'd at least try to intimidate her with a deafening roar.
"[Mayhem Bunny]!"
I aimed the muzzle at the floor and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Thanks to a rule-bending skill that selectively fools the system, the hit detection against me had already been nullified. Thus, the blast wave from the released chain-exploding warhead would only blow away the surrounding flames.
The explosive wave from the [Ruby Rabbit Bullet]'s warhead is a pure mass of magic. Normally, it would be nothing more than a snack for the black flames, but the absurd aftershock from the twelve-linked great cannon that followed gave them no time to grow.
And so, for an instant.
Before the prison I had forcibly blown apart could reform, I activated [Rocket]. Catching a glimpse of the frenzied red flames kicking up a storm on the other side, I decisively put some distance between us…
"…Hey, didn't you just blow yourself up? Why are you still alive? Give me a break already."
"Well, I've got a trick or two up my sleeve…"
An exasperated senior complained, her face a perfect mask of annoyance as she glanced at my HP bar, which was still full.
I'd been forced to play a card I had pre-charged in hopes of firing it off at an opportune moment just to reset the situation, but it couldn't be helped. It was better than dying.
That aside… man, this is a problem.
"But well, that was kind of refreshing—you don't look so relaxed anymore, do you?"
"Dammit, look how much fun you're having…"
This woman is seriously tough.
To begin with, powerhouses who have area-denial skills in their arsenal, like Sora and Rinne, are my ultimate nemeses.
Though the public seems skeptical, I lose almost all of my vision while performing my trademark high-speed maneuvers. Furthermore, since it's impossible to perform actions that approach the speed of sound on the fly, every move I make without thought acceleration is a scripted action.
Once I commit, there's no stopping until I've completed the laid-out route. In other words, if my feet get swept out from under me midway, I can't react.
It's like an uninterruptible macro. It's not automatic, I'm still doing it myself, but it's impossible to make minute adjustments to my movements in response to the situation.
That's precisely why fighting this type of opponent is such a pain.
The black flame threads, obstacles that are fatal on contact, are inexhaustible. They dance freely, naturally filling the air and blocking my path at every turn. To make matters worse, she even sets traps with her hard-to-see, plain white threads… It's literally a checkmate.
"…Alright, what's the plan?"
But it's not like I'm completely out of options. If I'm going to mercilessly seize victory, I just need to draw the 'sword' that, like the black flames, possesses the 'magic-slaying' authority.
With the blade of [Atiomart -Sakura=Memento-], I could probably match the darkness, maybe even overpower it, and easily reach and sever her 'threads'.
But, you know. That just feels… wrong, you know?
Against an enemy, it's fine.
Equipment is a legitimate form of 'power' that a player has honed, and a victory won by relentlessly smashing it against the enemies of players is something to be proud of.
But in Arcadia, where PvP isn't inherently necessary. In a friendly spar just for fun, in entertainment to amuse an audience, or in a brawl with pride on the line…
Or even in a dialogue where we exchange our full strength to deepen our bond… relying on a single tool to snatch victory feels like it defeats the whole purpose, don't you think?
Even if I'm going to use a tool, it should at least be—something fun.
"Ngh… That's why, I'm telling you…!"
Reacting to who knows what, the girl's cheek twitched as she manipulated her threads.
"That kind of attitude is what I hate about you, you little punk!!!"
She ruthlessly sent a manifested dragon of black flame at me while—with a smile that wasn't entirely sincere—shouting her complaint at her junior, who she must find truly insufferable.
Come on, now, don't say that. Please, forgive me.
When faced with an absurdly strong opponent, a smile just naturally creeps onto my face.
"—Shine."
It's an undeniable instinct for all boys.
"[Hellgread Ignis]."
In that moment, betraying the crowd's expectations, the shadow stood its ground and accepted the attack. The black flames swallowed it whole—and from its center, a brilliance that passed through pink, deepened to crimson, and reached the pure white of nothingness…
…was born, along with a madly blooming hellfire.