Wakashu. Among the Black Cloud Society's numerous operatives, she is one of the most dangerous swordswomen. If one were to categorize, she's close to their field commander.
'Why is she here now?'
It's dangerous. The lethal tension she gives off drifts from behind that mocking expression.
"Don't scowl like that, kiddo~ People might think I'm out to kill you~"
"Our Sword Sect and your Black Cloud Society aren't exactly on friendly terms, are they?"
"Alright, I'll give you that. But lighten up a bit, would you, Ms. Celebrity?"
"Celebrity? Me?"
"What, you have no idea? Or is that just a bluff?"
"The former. Definitely the former."
Famous, huh? What's the point of being famous if it's only within your own circle?
"One little kid single-handedly wiped out multiple recon squads. There's no way that wouldn't spark rumors inside."
"They were just a bunch of nobodies."
"Okay, I won't deny that. But don't be so harsh, yeah? We did even send one of our prominent operatives."
"A prominent operative? Oh, you mean that one? The guy you stabbed in the back."
"Anyway, kid, have you eaten? This sister here hasn't even managed a proper meal…"
"Then why not go grab a bite? Why waste time breaking into places like this?"
"Well, this office stopped paying protection fees and ran off, so our account's empty, yeah? I came to collect it myself… But what do you know? Someone already settled up. Thanks~"
"Tch. Made a stew and got handed a bear."
Even if it was mission-related, had I dawdled for just thirty minutes, I wouldn't have run into her, and the mission would've cleared itself—damn…
"So, you're saying this is just a coincidence?"
"Well~ I'm not exactly someone who enjoys tailing people."
What a rotten stretch—running into Wakashu as well.
"Still! Now that we've crossed paths, we can't just ignore it, can we?"
So it comes to a collision in the end? Today's my funeral… If I'd known, I would've snatched that chicken leg from Otis after all.
"But hey, you helped tidy the office and haven't eaten. Here's the deal: sprint away for exactly thirty minutes, and if you're still breathing, I'll let you go."
Her tone carries the unmistakable premise that she's far above me. Yet, in a way, that's fortunate. Maybe I can neutralize one Wakashu right here…
"Then, let's begin~!"
thud!!!
Scratch that. I didn't actually say that, so I take it back. That insane swing—no technique, just a katana slash from top to bottom—sliced through the concrete floor as if it were paper, letting me faintly glimpse the first floor below.
"Fuck, this madwoman's going to see everything!!"
"Hey! That's not how you talk to your elders!"
[Breeze—Tailwind]
A gust of wind blows as if pushing against my back. Over the course of missions, I've started to piece together the use of Arts, enabling me to manipulate wind in various forms. [Breeze—Tailwind] is a technique optimized purely for accelerating the air around me.
I vault through the shattered window, plant my foot on a utility pole, and spring onto the rooftop. Thanks to [Breeze—Tailwind], my body feels markedly lighter.
"Kiddo? One minute's up~ twenty-nine more to survive!"
"This race is ridiculously OP!!!"
The office was a three-story concrete building. Even if it was run-down, there's no way a blade from the second floor could slice straight to the third!!
'Twenty-nine minutes left. I'm bolting like my ass is on fire.'
Now isn't the time for pride. I have to run. It's instinct. If I try to parry that sword, my blade will snap. My mobility is superior anyway. No reason to stand and fight.
I dash between buildings, trying to put as much distance as possible, but my adversary is Wakashu. Not someone you can easily shake off.
'She's cutting through the building… and still coming?!'
My route is over rooftops and utility poles. Meanwhile, Roja—the swordswoman—stays on ground level. That means she's surrounded by obstacles, yet she simply slices them apart or barrels through. The cosmic horror of it brings cold sweat to every pore.
"What kind of swordswoman is this?! You're giving a blade to a monster?!!"
It's not so much slicing as it is smashing through, with slicing as an afterthought.
"A monster? Have you ever seen such a pretty monster?"
Pretty or not, it's fucking terrifying. Does Wakashu have nothing but monsters like her?
She even made it to the rooftop… of course… she scaled the wall…
"Alright! Five minutes up! Time to crank up the heat a bit?"
Crank up the heat… damn it!!
I reflexively redirect her downward strike, steering the heavy sword aside. Even that makes my sword hand tremble like it's been smashed by a steel hammer.
'Meeting that blade head-on is futile. Better to target the side.'
Fortunately, my strikes come faster. The path to survival is to deny her any opportunity.
The wind still aids me, and though my hand tingles, I'm not too shaken to swing the blade.
[Breeze—Cloud Crossing]
Every trace of her presence, every next move, every breath—each micro-movement is still motion, and thus inevitably generates wind.
If I can read the flow of that wind, I can at least respond to attacks from blind spots.
"Ooh~ you're not bad, as expected."
It pisses me off that she doesn't even flinch yet deflects my blade, but I've seized the initiative. My body's warmed up, and if I probe her guard, withdraw, then strike again in a hit-and-run, victory isn't out of the question.
"Oh my, as the rumors say, you're incredibly fast~ At that speed, the night must be deadly~"
"You've got no shame talking to a kid like that!"
I've unleashed a barrage of strikes, even leaving a few superficial cuts. The problem's they're just surface scratches—the blade won't sink in. She's an Ursus, not a wyvern, after all. I need one big hit.
Focusing my fury—intense crimson emotion trembling at my blade's tip—I deliver the slash.
[Behemoth Bull Confrontation]
"That's a bit dangerous!"
Roja executed her first solid defense against the massive swing. Which means it landed to some extent.
'I have to capture the momentum here!'
"Alright, my turn, then? First, I need to break that tempo~"
I simply applied force to parry and bounce the blade once, yet my youthful frame fluttered like a leaf before the wind. Roja didn't waste that opening…
"I couldn't gather it all..."
An ice axe of originium flies toward me. I scramble to raise my sword to block it, but the shattered shards carve lacerations into my body before clattering to the ground.
'An Arts that manifests ice?'
It's a particularly dangerous Arts. Invisible attacks—cold, heat, gas—heighten stress mid-battle since you never know where or how they'll strike, and you can't help but let your focus fracture.
'And this bleeding… it's strange.'
The cut itself isn't the issue. In the Sword Sect, you're rarely unscarred, whether on duty or in training. What's odd is the bleeding. From the wounds the ice shards left, blood flowed enough to make me think, Does it really bleed that much?
The chill hasn't dissipated, leaving my arms and legs numb. Screw this cold—if I let the bleeding continue unchecked, it'll kill me.
'Swift and decisive. It's the only way.'
The more I stall, the closer my win chance plunges to zero. I can't just sit here defending!
"Oh ho~ going to charge head-on now?"
"I've got no choice!"
The instant our blades met, a clang rang out. I twisted the swords off-axis and thrust toward her arm. Then, I saw an unbelievable sight.
A blue aura—like pure arrogance—poured from her form. Then, she settled her posture.
"Fifteen minutes. You hung on pretty well, kiddo~"
With an overwhelming blade draw, as if she were slicing the very wind that carries clouds, or eclipsing the clear sky.
'Was I cut? Now?'
I saw the broken tip of my blade in my line of sight, and the blood gushing from the shallow wounds soon flooded my vision.
"Oops? Did I go too hard? You're not dead, right? Really?!"
"F..uck..!"
It was an absurd amount of force, yet by luck or design, my wounds remained shallow compared to my shattered blade. The real problem is, with my blade gone, my odds of winning have plummeted close to zero—and barely half the time has elapsed.
"Whoa~ you scared me. I actually thought you were dead."
I could've killed her, yet she talks so much—words died on my tongue. Best to keep my mouth shut for now.
"Still, you hung on that long? Honestly, I'm surprised. Well, bye-bye~ Oh, and watch yourself on the way out. If you bump into that Roshu woman, she definitely won't leave you intact."
Then, the next moment, I was hurled—sword fragments and all—onto a pile of debris.
I don't understand. How she knows to use an E.G.O, why she spared me—all I can ask is why. But right now, the important thing is I'm alive.
I tear off scraps of clothing to pressure my wounds, then slip into the shadows of a back alley.
"Roja, aren't you fucking late—?!"
"Ugh, smell of booze. If I take a swig, will it make it worse?"
"You're the one who's late here?!"
"More importantly, was there a reason you were so late?"
"Hell yeah! You bet there was! Ta-da~ it's top-tier A+ meat! There was a sale nearby, so I grabbed it on the fly!"
"Ooh, nice! That'll go perfectly with some booze. Hey, you! Bring the grill!"
The building seized by the Black Cloud Society. Roja walked in nonchalantly, bringing both the stash of money hidden in the office and the meat. It looked like an everyday scene to them, yet one Oni couldn't help but feel a nagging suspicion.
"Oi."
"What, did you skimp on it?"
"I didn't skimp. More importantly, is it really true nothing happened?"
"Are you actually worried about Roshu?!"
"Well well, what's got you here? Ate something off?"
"Seems Ms. Roshu has a surprisingly caring side~"
"Tch. Shut it. Before I lose my patience."
"Seriously… vice-chief me, and I show up like this…"
"Cheer up, Mr. Gregor. Someday they'll stop treating you like vermin! But then… would your race change, Mr. Gregor?"
"You're the worst, you know?!!"
'Chatting away so leisurely? More to the point, Rogion… you're not lacking skill, yet you returned from raiding a single office covered in scratches. Odd…'
"I'm back…"
"Why are you so late, rookie..? What's with those wounds? Faust!"
"Right. Let's get you treated immediately."
Fortunately, I made it home and collapsed.