Chapter 16 : Chapter 16

Chapter 16. Genius (3)

The Free City of Crowley did not live up to its name. For me and for its citizens, this city had long since lost its freedom.

Crowley was one of the six Free Cities that had split from the now-fallen Grid Republic. It was once a city that revered freedom, a city that strictly banned slavery. Each year countless tourists came to admire its jewel-like glittering coast, and it was known as a land overflowing with milk and honey, a home for all.

In the past, people of the continent had called Crowley “Paradise.”

But no matter how history recorded this city, we did not live in the past. We lived in the present, and the present Crowley was a wretched land that fit neither the title of Free City nor the nickname of Paradise.

“Please, spare a single coin, just one.”

The Masters who ruled Crowley’s politics were corrupt, and the Enforcers who should have upheld law and freedom had been blinded by greed. The rich committed heinous crimes without punishment, while the poor died struck by blind stones even without committing any crime.

“Please, just so I won’t starve today… a piece of bread, just one…”

The upper class of Crowley, drunk on luxury and pleasure, sold off the free people of this land to maintain their glittering lives.

They documented the land that once flowed with milk and honey and sold it to the nobles of the Golden Empire. And when their coffers still ran short, they pledged the human rights of the free people as collateral and borrowed vast sums of gold coins from the 「Red Bank」.

“Stay the night with me. If you’ve come to Crowley, you must drink your fill of our famous wine.”

“No, come to my house. To my house—”

Thus, the free citizens of Crowley became no longer free. They lost the land that flowed with milk and honey, they lost their human rights to be protected, and they even lost the freedom won through long struggle.

They became pitiful creatures who offered entertainment like beggars to tourists, who made themselves slaves just to avoid starvation, who smiled foolishly even while being beaten by drunk visitors.

We, who had lost freedom, were like beasts.

I thought so when I saw my father beaten to death by a drunkard as he begged for a piece of bread. I thought so when I saw my mother make herself a slave just to eat. And I thought so when my young sister, with no five coins to her name, died of sickness.

Why did we have to meet such an end?

Why did we have to take responsibility and suffer punishment for deeds we had not done?

That was the question mark that had followed me ever since my life began.

And then.

“……”

The answer to that lifelong question came to me one day, suddenly.

“Stop, stop—!”

A citizen being beaten by a drunkard could not endure it any longer and stabbed the drunkard in the throat, killing him. A fountain of blood gushed forth, and the bards playing dreamy tunes screamed and fled.

The Enforcers rushed in and executed the citizen who had killed. We thought by the next night the fury of the drunkards would explode.

But what happened the next day was different from our expectations.

“……?”

The drunkards still carried out violence, but never beyond a certain line. As though they feared that crossing that line would bring some consequence.

It was a small change, but it created great ripples in me.

It could change.

We could make it change.

I thought, just for a moment.

Perhaps we were partly to blame for falling into such degradation. That responsibility was our inaction.

The responsibility of merely watching as we fell to the bottom, as our freedom was stolen, as our rights were stolen, as our paradise and Free City were stolen.

The sin of not resisting.

Somehow, I knew what I had to do.

I gripped a small dagger, pulled an old hood over my face, and hid my features. Then I repeated to myself the truth I had realized.

To reclaim freedom, someone’s hands had to be stained with blood.

I willingly chose to take that role.

.

.

.

“Phew.”

The world I saw when I opened my eyes was tinted cold. From the small blade in my hand, shaped like a 「Fang」, the emotions of an assassin overflowed. I had not fully digested it, but the memory was different from the female mercenary’s that 「Needle」 had once carried.

「Don’t be devoured. You must know how to control it.」

It was as if two different souls flickered inside the two swords. How could I maintain myself amidst them? Rational thought gave me no answer, so I acted on instinct. With a shudder that cast away dizziness in an instant.

“Hoo, ha—”

My second heart, the 「Mana Heart」, beat, and my body heated up. From the moment that second heart began to throb, my mind cleared. Keeping my sanity, I slowly aimed Needle and Fang at the Black Bride.

「The mercenary swordswoman and the Free City’s assassin. Different, yet they share a clear commonality. That’s why those blades suit you best now.」

A commonality.

What could it be?

That both blades specialized in stabbing? That their owners had lived in the shadows rather than the light? I was still guessing when I saw Liam’s face, and I knew I was wrong.

Liam spoke.

「Both were created to fight foes stronger than themselves.」

With those words, a booming voice resounded.

“This sacred duel will be dedicated to Goddess Refri!”

The announcement of the duel’s beginning.

At the same time, my sharpened senses rang the alarm. The instinct I had gained by fully digesting Needle. I surrendered myself to instinct and moved. Fast, very fast.

***

The size of the Arena’s coliseum was not as large as it looked. To the eye it seemed vast, but once engaged with an enemy it felt small.

And the arena had no obstacles. To give the spectators a clear view, it was a completely flat, clean ground with no cover.

For the weak, it was a terribly disadvantageous environment. No hiding, no ambush from blind spots, no acrobatic assaults using terrain.

So the dark techniques woven into the assassin’s memories became little more than useless tricks here.

But I did not despair. That was thanks to my habit of constant doubt, and also the assassin’s mindset within Fang.

『Losing the will to resist—that is true death.』

『What we must instill is not overwhelming fear, but the knowledge that we too bear fangs sharp enough to bite.』

The Black Bride did not rashly strike first. Not because she underestimated me, but because she felt the strange aura I exuded and intended to observe carefully before sinking her fangs.

Liam spoke.

「A perceptive woman.」

I flung my foot forward, scattering dirt. A dirty tactic I had used many times, but in this arena, the only way to obstruct vision was sand. With only one tool available, I had to use it.

‘…She doesn’t budge.’

Of course, the Black Bride was no fool. She stood firm without a step. Through the dust, I saw countless 「Roads」. If I stepped into one, defeat was assured.

That was something I had learned from Sword Walker Fetel.

—If you face a Sword Walker again, never enter their Road. Unless you’re also a Sword Walker, a Sword Beginner stepping into a Road is suicide.

He likened it to diving into the sea against a shark.

So instead of throwing myself into her advantage, I would drag her into mine. Even a shark on land is just a floundering fish.

‘The rules favor me.’

The condition of the duel was not to defeat her.

Victory required only that I endure three minutes.

I would use that fully—cunning, shameless, un-warriorlike.

Fortunately, such a method fit perfectly with Fang’s memories.

『To escape Crowley’s Enforcers I had to become a rat. Hiding in holes, sticking my head into foul, stinking places everyone else avoided.』

『That’s what it means to hide in shadows.』

With a sharp sound, I retreated far back. The Black Bride stepped leisurely in response, never taking her eyes off me.

『Seeking a place to hide, a way to shake pursuit—that was my life.』

A thud. My back hit the iron wall of the arena. The jeers of the crowd rang close.

“Boo—coward!”

“If Goddess Refri saw you, she’d strike you with lightning!”

I ignored them, my eyes on the Black Bride. She had closed the distance with startling speed.

Academy footwork? Or perhaps the stride of a superhuman?

It did not matter. I drew my muscles like a bowstring, Needle in hand, and aimed. She walked like a specter, her sword exuding the stench of blood.

『I fled and fled. Enough to memorize every alley in Crowley.』

Blue Roads bloomed around her, encircling me. I struck before I was completely trapped. Needle darted like lightning.

But her sword was faster. Unlike anything I had faced—even Fetel’s. Not just skill or polish, but something alien. Was this even swordsmanship?

Liam’s voice rang.

「That is the sword of the East, young descendant.」

“……”

「From the East came many wondrous swordsmen. They called their arts martial skills.」

Her sword moved like a brush on an empty canvas, drawing graceful curves as though painting nature. Beautiful, but deadly.

“Hoo, ha—”

My steel heart pounded. Needle jabbed not once but many times in desperate succession. She cut gracefully, breaking each trajectory. Her face twisted.

“…This hardness isn’t that of a Sword Beginner.”

She must have sensed my special heart. She drew a heavy breath, and the Roads of her body flared brighter.

Her sword grew even faster.

Clang, clang!

Steel clashed furiously.

Needle danced desperately in response. But the exchange was unequal. I barely kept up, forcing my Mana Heart to its limits.

Curves and lines wove together. My thrusts knocked aside swings, sought weak tips, diverted power through crossguards. Doubt could not cease. To survive her snake-tongue strikes, I had to be perfect.

Yes—perfect.

“…How? This makes no sense.”

Her pupils dilated. Our blades clashed, and I was flung back, slammed into the wall with pain searing my back.

“Huff, huff.”

I gasped, aiming Needle, vision blurred.

“You… what are you—”

Then, a memory surged like lightning. Fang’s assassin voice poured in.

『I always ran. But one cannot succeed in fleeing forever.』

『One day I reached a dead end and faced pursuit with nowhere to go.』

Her sword rose, Roads encircling me. No escape.

『And then—the impossible happened.』

Fang’s voice roared.

『Within the Roads aimed at me, I saw a hole. A rat hole, the very kind I’d used to hide in Crowley’s alleys.』

I saw it. A gap in her Roads.

『Perhaps it was my gift as a fugitive. The talent to always find a way to escape. My brothers used to call me…』

.

.

.

『…a Genius.』

Drawn to the hole, I moved strangely. Needle struck. Her Road diverted it, and I let go, releasing the blade.

Then I stepped on the wall, leapt into the air. In that instant I became another—an assassin of Crowley.

She faltered for a moment, surprised. I stomped her crossguard mid-swing and drove my dagger in a lethal path.

It pierced her Road.

“……!”

Blue waves burst from her body. She bent impossibly, dodging my stab, then kicked me aside with superhuman force.

Crack—I rolled across the sand, coughing blood.

“Ugh, khh.”

That overwhelming shock again. Like being struck head-on by a carriage.

“Ptew.”

I spat blood and rose, vision spinning. She stood frozen.

Why? Then I saw it.

“……”

A deep wound marred her shoulder. She had dodged her neck, but not the stab completely.

Her injury looked worse than mine.

“Ah…”

The crowd no longer jeered. They stared in silence, eyes wide, mouths agape. This was no longer an execution, no longer rookie-hunting.

They thought—“One minute! One minute left in the match!”

Perhaps they were witnessing the birth of a new star.