Rui Quarrier.
Sergeant Mindow stared at the name printed beneath the photograph.
The young man looking back at him didn't look particularly remarkable.
Black hair. Pitch-black eyes. Lean build. Young enough that Mindow almost wondered whether the analyst had brought him the wrong file.
Then he looked at the first page.
His expression slowly changed.
"Finalist of the Kandrian Martial Contest?"
"Yes, sir."
Mindow leaned back in his chair.
That alone narrowed things considerably.
The Kandrian Martial Contest wasn't some minor regional tournament. It was one of Kandria's largest competitive events for Martial Apprentices, drawing talent from across the entire Kandrian Empire. Foreign intelligence departments paid attention whenever particularly exceptional Martial Artists emerged from it.
And Rui Quarrier had reached the finals.
The analyst stepped closer and opened several additional reports.
"His physical characteristics match. Height, build, hair, eyes and estimated age are all consistent with witness testimony."
"That's not enough."
"No, sir. His Martial Art is what confirmed it."
Mindow's gaze sharpened as the analyst placed several survivor reports beside Rui's file.
"At first, we assumed the contradictions were caused by confusion during the battle. Different Martial Artists described completely different experiences against Abyss."
Mindow remembered how Yoshimoto described an opponent who had gradually adapted specifically to him.
"We were looking for consistency between the testimonies," the analyst continued. "That was our mistake."
Mindow glanced at Rui's photograph.
"The inconsistency is the consistency."
"Exactly."
The analyst turned the file around.
"Rui Quarrier possesses an extraordinarily unusual Martial Path. Existing Kandrian combat records describe his fighting style as formless and highly adaptive. He doesn't possess a single fixed approach that he applies uniformly against every opponent."
Mindow's eyes moved across the report.
"Instead, he studies whoever he's fighting."
"Yes, sir."
The analyst pointed toward several lines.
"Range. Weight distribution. Movement tendencies. Timing. Reactions. Habits. He appears to gather information throughout an engagement and alters his fighting style around that information."
Mindow remembered Yoshimoto's trembling hand.
He kept getting better against me.
His expression darkened.
"That's our conclusion."
The strange precision described by survivors wasn't merely skill. Rui's techniques and systems were designed to extract as much efficiency as possible from every exchange, whether that meant striking vulnerable nerves and organs, dispersing incoming force, redirecting impacts, destabilizing balance or changing his maneuvering to exploit openings.
The more Mindow read, the worse it became.
Rui possessed powerful striking techniques capable of transferring accumulated momentum directly into attacks. He could target vulnerable points with exceptional precision, transmit shock beneath hardened defenses, grapple, counter-grapple and employ compressed air offensively.
Mindow flipped another page.
Then another.
His irritation steadily grew.
"What the hell is this? How many techniques does this bastard have?"
The analyst wisely waited.
Mindow dropped the page.
Most high-grade Martial Apprentices possessed specialties that intelligence officers could build plans around.
A striker could be denied opportunities to strike.
A grappler could be kept at range.
A speed specialist could be restricted.
Even Kane Arrancar, dangerous as he was, presented a recognizable tactical problem. His Godspeed granted tremendous bursts of acceleration while Void Step manipulated perception and allowed him to disappear from awareness while moving. Those abilities were terrifying, but they gave Mindow something concrete to counter.
Rui Quarrier was different in that he could adapt to whatever they throw at him.
Mindow stared at the photograph as his eye twitched.
"...Have the analysts create a team specifically to shut him down."
The analyst straightened.
"Yes, sir."
A knock came from the door.
Mindow looked over as another aide entered carrying a sealed envelope.
The seal immediately caught his attention.
Mindow's expression tightened.
The Sekigaharan Martial Consortium.
Not an analyst department this time.
The actual Consortium.
The collective authority of the great Martial clans whose Sages stood at the top of Sekigaharan Martial society.
Mindow took the letter.
"Leave me."
The analysts bowed and withdrew.
He broke the seal in nervousness.
News of the Kandrian assault had already reached the clan heads.
They knew how many Martial Apprentices Sekigahara had lost.
They knew Kandria had withdrawn with minimal casualties.
They knew their fortress had been struck, their high-grade forces humiliated and their territory tested in front of every other nation contesting the Serevian Dungeon.
The instruction from above was simple.
Take something back from Kandria.
Sekigahara could not allow the Kandrian Empire to establish the impression that it could attack Confederate territory without consequence.
Prestige mattered.
Reputation mattered.
Especially here.
Twelve nations were watching one another around the Serevian Dungeon, measuring every victory, every weakness and every failure.
Sekigahara had just bled publicly.
The Sages wanted an answer.
Do not allow Kandria to humiliate Sekigahara even further.
Mindow stared at the final line.
His grip tightened as the paper crumpled in his fist.
Of course.
He knew what was expected of him.
The clans wanted Kandrian blood.
The military wanted its losses answered.
The Consortium wanted Sekigahara's reputation restored.
And somewhere east of them was the Martial Apprentice who had become one of the main forces of this entire fucking mess.
Mindow's eyes fell back onto the photograph sitting on his desk.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
"Rui..."
His fist tightened around the letter.
"Fucking..."
His teeth clenched.
"QUARRIER!"
BANG!
The door slammed open.
Mindow whipped around.
"What?!"
A soldier stood in the doorway, covered in dirt and breathing so heavily he could barely speak.
"Sir!"
Mindow's anger vanished instinctively.
Something was wrong.
The soldier looked like he'd run half the fortress to reach him.
"What happened?"
"The western perimeter!"
Mindow froze.
"What about it?"
"We lost contact with the forward camps!"
Mindow immediately moved around his desk.
"All of them?"
"Yes, sir, all of them! Scouts went to investigate but they still haven't returned!"
A second messenger appeared behind the first.
His face was pale.
"Sergeant! The Britannian Empire is attacking!"
Mindow stared at him.
"...What?"
"The Britannian Empire, sir! They're advancing from the west!"
Mindow shoved past the desk.
"Numbers?"
"We don't know the exact numbers, but they've taken out all the forward camps!"
The messenger followed him into the corridor.
"They're moving siege vehicles, potion units and large formations of Martial Apprentices!"
Mindow's eyes widened.
A legion.
The bastards weren't raiding them like Kandria did.
They were invading.
Fucking Britannia!
Kandria had just shown every nation in the Serevian Dungeon exactly how badly Sekigahara had been hurt.
Their eastern forces were wounded, fortifications damaged. reserves currently being reorganized.
Repairs had barely even begun!
But Britannia had been keeping a close watch.
Waiting.
Mindow broke into a run.
"Sound the western alarms!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Stop all nonessential reconstruction. Move every available combat unit west!"
The soldiers scattered to relay his commands.
Mindow sprinted toward the command center as the first distant war horn began roaring through the fortress.
BWOOOOOOOOOOO!
Men and women poured into the corridors.
Officers shouted orders.
Martial Apprentices who had only hours earlier returned from the eastern battlefield began reaching for their weapons and equipment again.
Mindow's face twisted.
Kandria had opened the wound.
Britannia had smelled the blood.
And now they were coming to tear it wider.
———
Britannia had always been different from Sekigahara.
While both were nations ruled with Martialocracy, the similarities ended there.
The Britannian Empire was one of the four Sage-level super-nations of the Panama Continent, a military power whose borders had expanded through centuries of conquest, colonization and war.
Other nations had armies.
Britannia was often described as an army that happened to possess a nation.
Three centuries earlier, its monarchy had been overthrown during the Second Martial Revolution. What emerged from the civil war was a martialocracy where Martial Artists became the ruling class and military service became inseparable from the state itself.
Even their Martial Artists carried military titles.
Apprentice Knights.
Squire Knights.
Senior Knights.
Master Knights.
Sage Knights.
At the very top stood the Knight of One, Emperor Arthur himself.
A Martial Transcendent.
One of only thirteen known Martial Artists in all human civilization to have reached the pinnacle of the Martial Path.
Yet the Transcendent Emperor rarely concerned himself with the ordinary affairs of his empire anymore. Britannia's actual governance and military policy fell to the Martial Assembly and Prime Minister Edward Gel Dermont III.
Under them, Britannia had only grown more militaristic.
If a cannon could kill something, Britannia built a larger cannon.
If armor could keep a soldier alive, Britannia made it thicker.
If esoteric technology could increase the killing power of a Martial Artist, there was no shame in using it.
Martial prowess and military technology marched together beneath the Britannian banner.
And now that banner was moving east.
Across the western reaches of Sekigaharan territory, entire forward camps had already gone silent.
The first had fallen before it could send a complete warning.
The second managed only a fragmented transmission before communications ceased.
Scouts sent to investigate never returned.
By the time Sekigahara understood what was happening, Britannia's army was already advancing.
This wasn't anything like Kandria's operation.
Kandria had sent a comparatively small force of elite Martial Apprentices and siege vehicles to strike Sekigahara, inflict disproportionate damage and withdraw.
Kandrians, under the ruling of the Emperor of Harmony, was never the type to make such an aggresive move.
But that was exactly why the attack was so effective.
And thus, Britannia had brought an army to finish what Kandria had started... for their own cause, of course.
Rows of siege tanks rolled through the Serevian wilderness, crushing vegetation beneath armored tracks. Potion-enhanced soldiers marched alongside them while formations of Apprentice Knights moved ahead and around the column.
Hundreds of armored figures advanced beneath Britannian standards.
At their head rode one young man.
He wore the polished armor of an Apprentice Knight, though the insignia carved into his breastplate marked a status far beyond the ordinary soldiers surrounding him.
A longsword rested against his shoulder.
Sir Kay Pendragon.
One of Britannia's strongest Apprentice Knights.
More importantly, he belonged to the imperial bloodline itself.
A distant relative of Emperor Arthur.
The connection was distant enough that nobody would mistake him for an heir to the Britannian throne, yet close enough that the name Pendragon carried weight wherever he went.
Kay stared through the thinning jungle ahead.
Beyond it stood Sekigahara's western fortifications.
Scaffolding still covered portions of the wall.
Supply wagons moved frantically behind it.
Martial Apprentices rushed into defensive positions that had been considered relatively quiet only hours earlier.
Kay could already hear the alarm horns.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"So they finally noticed us, have they?"
A Britannian officer beside him lowered a spyglass.
"The Sekigaharans are mobilizing, Sir Kay."
"It appears so."
"They appear to be transferring forces from the eastern defenses."
Kay's smile widened.
Exactly as expected.
Kandria had done them a tremendous favor.
Sekigahara's high-grade forces had been mauled. Their wounded filled the medical wards. Ammunition and military resources had been expended against the Kandrian assault, and reconstruction had barely begun.
The opportunity wouldn't last.
Which was why Britannia had no intention of wasting it.
Kay lowered his sword from his shoulder and raised his blade.
"For Britannia."
Thousands of boots continued forward as the marching legion maintained its steady advance toward the Sekigaharan fortress. Behind the Apprentice Knights, siege tanks rolled through the flattened vegetation while their cannons slowly adjusted toward the distant walls.
"For the Emperor."
Potion users uncorked vials and began passing them through their formations. Knights checked weapons and tightened armor straps as officers shouted final orders between units.
Sir Kay pointed his sword toward the western fortress.
"Begin the siege."
The Britannian formation accelerated.
.
.
Kay remained near the head of the advance, his eyes fixed on the distant fortifications. They were still far enough away that individual faces were difficult to distinguish without enhanced vision, but the movements around the fortress were obvious.
Sekigahara was mobilizing quickly.
Artillery crews rushed across the walls while soldiers hauled ammunition toward the western batteries. The enormous gate remained open as additional Martial Apprentices poured through it.
Some had already taken positions outside.
Kay narrowed his eyes.
Several dozen Sekigaharan Martial Apprentices were spreading across the ground before the fortress, establishing a defensive line rather than waiting behind their walls. More continued joining them from the gate as the alarm horns echoed across the battlefield.
It wasn't nearly enough to match the Britannian legion.
Not yet, anyway.
Still, they were responding faster than Kay had expected after the damage Kandria inflicted on them.
His eyes moved across the defenders.
Then stopped.
Kay's smile faded slightly.
Even from this distance, there was no mistaking that enormous frame.
Yoshimoto Seishin.
The man stood near the center of the forming Sekigaharan line, dressed in the same loose purple dougi Kay remembered. His black hair had been pulled back, and his massive arms hung loosely beside him as he watched Britannia approach.
Kay had him fought before.
It had been some time ago, but Kay remembered the battle clearly enough. Yoshimoto Seishin wasn't the kind of Martial Artist one easily forgot after experiencing his wind firsthand.
Something was different this time.
Kay's eyes sharpened.
Yoshimoto was injured.
Bandages could be seen beneath parts of his dougi, particularly around his torso. Bruising still marked his face, and while his posture remained relaxed, Kay could see enough to know the Sekigaharan hadn't completely recovered.
So the reports were true.
Kandria had defeated him.
That was interesting.
Kay's attention shifted toward the western gate as more Sekigaharan reinforcements emerged from behind the walls. His eyes passed over them until they settled on a figure standing near the rear of the gathering force.
The man was enormous.
Dark iron armor covered him from head to toe. Thick plates hid every trace of skin, while a heavy kabuto concealed his face beneath iron and shadow. There were no clan markings Kay could make out from this distance, nothing that gave away an identity or affiliation beyond the obvious fact that he stood with Sekigahara.
The weapon resting against his shoulder was even more intimidating.
It was a massive greatsword, broad and long enough to make the weapons carried by nearby Martial Apprentices look small. A weapon that size should have demanded both hands and a stable stance just to carry comfortably.
The armored man held it with one.
His arm hung naturally beneath the weapon while the blade rested against his shoulder. There was no strain in his posture and no shift in his balance to compensate for its weight. He carried the thing like he'd forgotten it was there.
As a fellow swordsman, he was hard to ignore.
He looked quite powerful.
Kay narrowed his eyes.
"Who is that fellow?"
The Britannian officer beside him raised his spyglass and searched the Sekigaharan line. He found the armored figure quickly enough and studied him for several moments.
"I don't recognize him, Sir Kay."
"Was he not in the briefing?"
"No, sir. I don't remember anyone matching that armor or physical profile."
Kay continued watching the man for another moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
"A bloody nobody, then."
No record meant no reputation. In Kay's experience, men without reputations rarely deserved one.
What a waste of attention.
"It would seem Kandria has already slain most of Sekigahara's famous Apprentices."
His lips curled faintly.
"A shame."
Kay's gaze returned to Yoshimoto.
Now there was someone worth remembering.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Their last fight had been entertaining.
Yoshimoto looked injured, certainly, but Kay found little reason to care.
If the man had dragged himself onto the battlefield, then he had chosen to fight.
Kay rested his longsword against his shoulder.
"So be it."
His smile widened.
"Let us see whether thou hast grown any stronger, Yoshimoto Seishin."
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A/N.
Next chapter on Monday.
MIght have to delete and reupload a whole bunch of chapters since the Severian Dungeon Arc started and it should've been a new volume. Damn.