Chapter 719 - The Selfish White Who Smiles on the Silver Screen, Part Three
It's been two and a half months since I acquired it.
[Nine Tail], a one-of-a-kind item that had me on the verge of giving up and thinking, 'Maybe I should just use it casually,' due to its extreme difficulty, generates "shadow threads" corresponding to the wielder's mana (MP) pool.
Of course, they aren't just ordinary threads. They can't be cut or detached without the user's will, they can stretch and retract freely, and their maximum range is well over fifty meters. When wielded by me, whose total MP far exceeds the standard for a pure mage even in my base form, let alone my transformed state, its overall output is more than enough to function as a standalone weapon.
That's precisely why it felt like such a waste to be at the mercy of its one and only problem: the extremely demanding and delicate control it required. And that's when the perfect role model appeared.
None other than the Southern Faction's Rank 7, [Thread-Weaver], who commands "threads" with flawless precision.
One is a unique item, a reward for the first clear of a once-unconquerable dungeon; the other is a one-of-a-kind Anima, a shard of one's very soul. Since neither can be wielded by others, comparing them is impossible to begin with… and I doubt their control systems are exactly the same.
However, the most important element for taming a wild horse is always the same. Imagination.
To be more precise, it's the ability to hold absolute pride and conviction in the image you establish, to think, This is the best, this is absolutely correct, shut up and obey me, you bastard.
That kind of confidence is what becomes the greatest power for a player in Arcadia.
The difficult part is finding a basis convincing enough to satisfy yourself. Naturally, a flimsy suggestion won't cut it. There must be an absolute persuasiveness that can become an absolute power.
And now, I have acquired the perfect image for wielding these "threads" as a memory.
All that's left is to follow my senior's example with the utmost respect—I squeeze the shadow overflowing from my right bracelet, parting the flood to spin something delicate.
Five strands, no need to be greedy. The threads connect to my own fingers, and what I transmit to the black threads attached to each of my five digits is… an imitation play of the short-tempered but incredibly cool senior, an image burned into my mind.
Now then, let me show you the trick I've been secretly practicing since the last Four Pillar War.
"—'Weiss Schwarz.'"
◇◆◇◆◇
"—Ugh, wow…"
"This guy, seriously…"
"Fufu."
"This is so stupid it's gone full circle…"
"Wasn't he pretty stupid to begin with?"
In a room where exasperated comments flew from all corners, there was a single screen and twelve figures. And the scene projected by the former showed black threads beginning to race across a battlefield filled with flying magic bullets.
It was like a one-handed piano performance. The fingers of the right hand, now home to shadow threads, moved with exquisite precision and fluidity, as if playing a silent melody. And that 'technique' was—
"………………………………………………………………"
—unmistakably, undoubtedly, hers. The one who could be called virtually the only person in this virtual world to have surmounted the technical hurdles of practical application.
Even to the eyes of those who knew of it but didn't understand its detailed principles, it was such a perfect imitation that it looked just like hers. Naturally, attention turned to the reaction of the original, who had been威嚇ing him with taunts of 'impudent' and 'not cute'…
"Oh."
"My."
"Hmm."
"Hoh…?"
Again, a few voices from here and there. The whispers, uttered with individually lowered volumes, were—not in anger, nor in a sulk.
They were reactions to seeing a kitten staring, somewhat blankly, at the screen.
Normally, considering everything up to this point, it was a surprising reaction. But for, say, a senior from the same faction who knew her well as her direct junior, it was easy to guess.
"…………Well, yeah, that makes sense."
And so, another quiet voice. Yata's words, murmured with an amused smile so as not to disturb her as she stared intently at the 'junior's' performance on the screen, were…
"Having a junior copy you… that's something a senior would be happy about."
…probably, most likely, right on the mark.
◇◆◇◆◇
—During the last Four Pillar War, before the final battle, I was given an Anti-Acrobat Manual in case I had to face the 'utterly unpredictable [Acrobat].' I remember the most important item on that list.
Exploitable opening number one: He has a habit of needing to look in his direction of travel before any action.
Number two: His foot speed exceeds the speed of sound, but his thoughts are not as fast as light.
Number three: He usually looks composed, but he actually panics with surprising frequency.
Number four: He has so many cards up his sleeve that he's recently been struggling to manage them all, and when he gets flustered, he tends to carelessly throw away his trump cards and corner himself, etcetera…
Some of them made me think, Now that you mention it, that makes sense, while others had me tilting my head, wondering if they could even be classified as openings or weaknesses. And then there were the revelations about his inner state that made me feel sorry for him, thinking, Please don't expose him like that.
Through that manual, shared primarily with information from the Southern Faction's [Sword Queen] and [The Poet], Tonic had sharpened his understanding of [The Acrobat], despite their shallow connection.
Therefore, to be honest, he no longer felt an exaggerated 'fear' of facing him. This was also predicated on the reliability of his lawless partner, but he felt that even in a head-on fight, he wouldn't be completely overwhelmed.
He wasn't underestimating him. It was simply an assessment based on a calm, objective view of reality as a Ranker so as not to make a mistake. Was.
"So this is the infamous Head Acrobat…!!"
"I think I just heard something rude!?"
And this was the current reality.
Following up his grand magus routine that revealed an unexpected talent, he had now started playing with "thread-pulling" in a manner so masterful it was impossible not to see a phantom of [Thread-Weaver].
While shouting back a displeased retort to my muttered, scream-like comment, his head and fingers moved without pause. He commanded the constantly manifesting water spears and rings while extending his fingertips with five shadow threads.
They scatter and steal the incoming magic…—There are no openings. The dashing shadow threads are probably not so fast that they can't be dodged on sight, depending on stats, but they aren't slow enough to escape from with ease.
Above all,
"Whoa, that was close!!?"
—Above all, it was clear that the other side had no intention of letting him escape.
I leaped back to avoid the surging waves of water. In the nick of time, I noticed the sheet of threads that had been laid on the floor amidst the chaos of the magic battle and activated the wind-attribute movement assistance magic [Sonic] to lift my body and evade.
As I shivered at the trap that had snapped shut like a blooming flower in reverse, I retreated with all my might to stand beside my partner, who had been working her lawless magic without moving since the start of the battle.
"You alright?"
I received a glance and a word from [Screen], who, though a bit brusque, wasn't a bad person… and all the while, I held a quiet reverence and exasperation for this person who never ceased their ridiculous barrage of magic.
"A little rough, I'd say. Your junior is something else, as expected."
I gave an honest assessment of the battle situation and offered a vague smile. The senior ranker snorted with a "Hmph" and narrowed their eyes.
There was no need to confirm where that gaze was directed.
Even after mastering the lawless stage, even after revealing a surprise performance, [Screen] did not smile at the junior who had invited them to play.
However,
"I'll cover you. So, get to it."
"I'm counting on you. Well then, I'm heading back in… now!"
However, and yet.
As I watched my partner glare with an annoyed expression at the figure who was so joyfully playing around, as if to show off for all they were worth…
I thought that, at the very least, it didn't seem like their heart was completely unmoved.
"This is going to be a long fight—whoaah!?"
The estimated difficulty of clearing this stage remained the same. Mentally sending a half-hearted cheer of 'Go for it, junior-kun' from the sidelines… Tonic threw himself back into the hellscape and began to scream once more.
Hinting that their abilities make them a seriously dangerous person, while also delivering the sorrow of a normal Ranker thrown into the Istian circle.
What the heck is a 'normal Ranker'? Also, I love Nacchan.