kscans

Chapter 152 - The Stage's Finale, Robele's Dance

Robele's eyes narrowed, sinking like a cold, constricted night. Amidst a dance of rose petals, the slender rapier in his hand became a sharp line that cut through the air, permitting not even a moment of moonlight.

"An unsightly life is nothing more than entertainment for a ball..." Robele whispered with a smile, aiming his blade straight at Mamoru and his friends.

It was not a single flash. It was a continuous stream of them. The tip of the rapier tore through the forest air, and the countless trajectories of his thrusts wove a fantastical net.

Thousand Stabs.

Robele's true strength was, quite literally, fast, precise, and merciless.

The first thrust pierced Defray's shoulder, and he took a sharp breath, his knees buckling. But more than the physical pain, the sight of his friends falling one after another weighed heavily on him. The next flash sent Koni-chan stumbling in mid-air, his fire magic veering off to scorch the ground. Amy's aim missed the blade's trajectory, but she collapsed, her strength spent. Tiris loosed an arrow, but the rapier's lightning-fast movements deflected it. Mamoru received an impact like a thunderclap, and his shield arm went numb.

The blade read human movement. Like a compass, it captured his friends' breathing and center of gravity, and dispassionately, swiftly, destroyed them. The attacks left only a throbbing pain, as if to avoid the depiction of blood, and chipped away at his friends' stamina and will. There were screams, but they were all cut short.

"Kuh...!"

Mamoru tried to move forward. But Robele's line of movement had already anticipated him. The thin blade grazed Mamoru's forearm, and a sharp pain shot through him. Robbed of the distance to counterattack, he stumbled.

His friends' breathing grew shallow, their bodies trembled, and their eyes lost focus. Defray tried to stand, but his knees wouldn't obey. Koni-chan covered his mouth and gently shook his head. Amy clutched her spear with one hand and called her friends' names in a trembling voice, but no reply came.

Robele slowly raised his sword's tip and gave a graceful bow, like a dancer.

"And with this, the ball is at its end. Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, please, take your time."

But the coldness behind his actions remained unchanged. The thousand thrusts he had unleashed had driven his friends to a state where they could not recover. Fractures, muscle damage, a deep shaking of consciousness. Returning to the battlefield was not an option now.

Mamoru crawled on all fours towards his friends. What burned in his chest was not anger or the fear of death. It was simply the all too pure will to save his friends. But there was little he could do now. He had almost no bandages, no surplus magic power here.

Robele approached, one step, then another. His shadow stretched long over Mamoru, and a cold voice whispered in his ear.

"It's your turn next. Come, let us dance, my final dance."

Mamoru bit his lip and looked down at his pale friends. At that moment, standing on the brink of despair, something hardened deep within his chest. To bring back his friends who had been declared unable to recover. Even if he lost everything, Mamoru swore to himself that he would stand up.

In the fog, Robele's black frills swayed, and the stage was quietly, but surely, moving on to the next act.