A stale, pitch-black cave filled with marble.
When she emerged from it, she found herself on a cliff at the far southern edge of the land.
The sun was gradually sinking, painting the sky orange.
Below, waves crashed against the cliff face.
Standing atop it was the headmistress, Ash Bell Drayg.
And before her stood the one responsible for dragging her here: an enormous man clad head to toe in black armor.
Beside him stood a masked woman carrying a massive scythe.
Ash glanced around once and let out a quiet sigh.
"I let my guard down. I never imagined that I, of all people, would fall for it."
Her assessment was calm.
There was neither resentment nor excuse in it.
But surprise lingered in her eyes.
It was surprising enough that they had taken the initiative and brought her here before she could cast a spell.
What truly astonished her, however, was that they had brought her here by crossing space itself.
After all, magic capable of moving through space did not exist.
Ash looked around once more.
The gate she had just come through.
And the marble inexplicably embedded in the coastal cliff.
Something wholly out of place had become mixed into the cliff where she stood.
She looked at the giant, who seemed to know what was happening, and spoke.
"A dungeon spawn. Don’t tell me you used that?"
"That’s right. Correct answer."
It was not the giant who answered, but the scythe-wielding woman at his side.
"Though it was half a gamble."
The giant let out a small sigh.
Ash’s eyes narrowed as she watched him.
Having seen countless kinds of people, Ash Bell Drayg saw a color in the giant that seemed familiar, yet was entirely different.
A murky gray.
Yet somehow, a familiar gray.
But that was not what mattered to Ash Bell Drayg right now.
The person into whom she had implanted a dragon word was nowhere to be seen.
"As expected of the Red Duke. To think you managed to implant a dragon word in Scaramuccia in that brief instant."
I see.
At his words, Ash finished assessing the situation.
Ash alone had been abducted.
After pouring all her strength into the dragon word to seal the Aura Blade, she would be unable to use dragon words for some time.
Of course, she was not terribly worried about the academy at the moment.
That skeleton was still there.
And yet, why was it?
She could not shake the anxiety slowly creeping up from the depths of her heart.
She had the feeling she needed to return to the academy at once.
Ash spread her wings.
Then—
She unleashed Dragon Fear.
The authority that made all things bow, a song granted only to dragons.
The woman beside the giant broke into a cold sweat and dropped to her knees.
But—
The giant merely swayed slightly, then soon stood as though nothing had happened.
Ash’s pupils widened a fraction at the sight.
Someone this skilled in the Dawn Troupe?
Dragon Fear was enough to force even those who had reached the realm of superhumans to their knees.
Yet the giant before her remained standing without a care, even after taking her Dragon Fear head-on.
"That crazy bastard Arlecchino. He sent us to fight this monster?"
The woman barely rose using her scythe as a support, spitting out a curse.
"Get lost, Sandrone. She’s not your opponent anyway."
The giant drew his sword from his waist.
A formidable opponent she had encountered after the skeleton and Marshall.
And one with a murky color that was familiar and yet unfamiliar.
Under ordinary circumstances, she would have savored the story behind him at her leisure.
But that was not what mattered now.
Ash gathered mana.
The world began to respond to her mana.
"You can’t use dragon words, can you?"
The giant murmured it quietly, as though speaking to himself.
Ash gave a faint snort at his words.
"I do not need them."
Dragon words were unnecessary to her.
Even without such things, she had more than enough power to burn those people to ashes.
"Arlecchino, that son of a bitch. He always dumps this kind of troublesome work on me. He doesn’t even give hazard pay. Isn’t this just exploitation?"
"How absurd."
Ash gave a hollow laugh at the man’s attitude.
He was facing her—the Red Duke and the headmistress of the academy.
Yet even in such a situation, he did nothing but crack jokes.
Was it confidence born of genuine skill, or mere bravado?
At the very least—
Judging by the fact that he had endured Dragon Fear, it did not seem to be the latter.
"Then, before we fight, your name—"
"I am not interested."
No incantation. No magic circle manifested.
She simply brought down a pillar of fire upon him.
As Ash directed her mana, a colossal pillar of flame erupted, shearing away the cliff.
But—
The pillar of fire split apart, and something shot up from within it.
"So you can withstand even that."
Ash murmured as if she had expected it.
That pillar of fire had merely been a probing attack.
She prepared her next assault.
Countless magic circles filled the sky around Ash.
Before long, they began crashing down upon the man in a concentrated barrage.
With every strike, the terrain crumbled.
The cliff vanished without leaving even a trace.
The landscape was being ruined so thoroughly that the map would need to be redrawn.
But—
A single flash pierced through the bombardment and came rushing toward her.
Clang—!!
With a metallic ring, the giant’s sword was stopped, unable to penetrate Ash’s magic.
Ash’s eyes widened.
That sword technique the giant had just used.
It was the Logres Swordsmanship’s Quick Sword Form.
Ash forcefully shoved the giant back with mana, glaring at him coldly.
"Who are you?"
"So you finally feel like talking?"
The giant simply floated in the air, looking at Ash as though he found this amusing.
He was beginning to irritate Ash immensely.
A familiar color, and tremendous skill.
And he even used Logres Swordsmanship.
He was not Marshall.
Marshall was not that big, at least.
Besides, there was no way Marshall would join the Dawn Troupe.
"The White Moon Knight."
"I have never heard of it."
"Well, that makes sense for now."
An epithet she had never heard before.
The man before her nodded as though that were only natural.
Was he trying to make a fool of her?
Ash once again hung magic circles in the night sky like countless stars.
She did not need to know anymore.
There was no time to ask, nor time to learn the answer.
What mattered was getting rid of this man and returning to the academy as quickly as possible.
Intending to end it, she loaded the magic circles once again.
If she tore apart the problem itself, she would have no need to solve it.
In contrast, the man layered a pure white star over his sword.
The star countless swordsmen longed to reach.
An Aura Blade, the exclusive domain of a Sword Master.
The man who had coated his blade in an Aura Blade said,
"Il Capitano. At present, I am called Il Capitano the Braggart."
That was his answer.
And even that was no answer at all.
Il Capitano was a famous epithet, but precisely because it was so famous, it could not explain the giant’s identity.
But—
Ash had no time.
So Ash asked no more questions.
Nor did she seek an answer.
She merely—
Presented her magic as her answer.
#
To Luke Eaenril, matters such as reports on the situation were unimportant.
He judged solely through the experiences accumulated and engraved into his bones from the time he had possessed a human body until he became a skeleton.
He confirmed the reverse-summoning of Silves’s four spirits.
He confirmed the masked man mounted on a spirit and carrying a golden spear.
He confirmed that the man’s right eye was glowing.
He confirmed that the man’s left eye was shut.
He confirmed the invisible armor encasing the man’s body.
The time it took him to conclude that he needed to cut the man down: 0.01 seconds.
Having arrived before Scaramuccia, Luke immediately swung his sword.
But—
Scaramuccia was one step faster.
He tore something from around his neck and showed it to Luke.
At the sight, Luke’s sword wavered slightly, and Luke could feel an invisible force trying to bind his body.
But—
Luke’s sword was faster than that restraint.
Slash—!!!
It struck Scaramuccia’s arm directly.
The invisible armor that had rejected even attacks from high-ranking spirits was torn apart, and his left arm was severed.
That left arm flew through the air in a fountain of blood.
"What a shame. I meant to cut off your head along with the spirit."
Luke’s voice clicked with his tongue.
Scaramuccia broke into a cold sweat and staunched the stump of his left arm.
He had expected it.
That the demonic eye which had deflected every blade and protected him from every threat would be useless against that skeleton.
Thus, Scaramuccia had never intended to evade Luke’s attack, nor counterattack.
The instant he concerned himself with that, his head would have been sent flying.
The moment the skeleton entered his sight, he released the golden spear and devoted every shred of his attention to showing it a single object.
He concentrated on that alone.
Of course, if the skeleton had targeted his neck first and severed it, he would simply have died.
But whether he tried to block or counterattack, dying was the same result.
So Scaramuccia focused all his attention only on the outcome in which he would certainly survive, should he succeed.
Well, not that even that was certain.
What he had brought out, sacrificing even his left arm and dropping his weapon, was—
A small clay tablet, no bigger than what could fit in one hand.
He had gambled everything merely to show Luke a single clay tablet.
And that gamble had succeeded.
Because Luke, upon seeing it, could not move.
"Losing an arm is hardly too great a price for stopping your movements."
"I was certain they had all been destroyed."
The blue flame burning in Luke’s eye sockets narrowed, while Silves behind him could not hide his shock.
The only one capable of killing this man had now been sealed.
And because of that one object—Luke’s weakness—which they had thought no longer remained anywhere in the world.
"Why does the Dawn Troupe possess [Me]?"
[Me].
To Luke, it was both a weakness and something akin to a geas: a covenant carved into his body when he had been forcibly transformed into an undead, in consideration of the possibility that he might run wild.
Luke had to obey the commands of whoever possessed [Me].
That was why Luke and Ash had destroyed every [Me] remaining in the world.
They should have done so. Then why did the Dawn Troupe possess that [Me]?
"Well, I received one the leader had in his possession, so I don’t know the details behind it."
Scaramuccia shrugged and picked up the fallen golden spear.
"I would like you to become a puppet that obeys only my commands from now on, but I suppose that would be difficult."
"It is a contract from several centuries ago. Expecting more than that would be shameless. You should be satisfied with merely stopping his movements."
He simply passed by Luke without doing anything at all.
Watching him, Luke gave an incredulous laugh and spoke.
"You are not going to kill me?"
"With the Aura Blade sealed, killing you would take too much time."
Scaramuccia answered in an indifferent tone.
"Besides, you are not our objective."
With those words, he slowly approached Silves.
"Damn it. That skeleton is useless from beginning to end."
Silves grimaced and assumed a fighting stance again.
The skeleton he had considered a problem-solver could no longer move.
And the high-ranking spirits that made up his fighting strength had all been reverse-summoned.
It would not have been strange to say that both of Silves’s arms had been cut off.
But—
"I still have my legs."
Even if both arms had been cut off, two legs remained.
He could not summon low- or mid-ranking spirits.
There were still students who had not evacuated.
It was a situation where he could have used even the power of low- and mid-ranking spirits, but Silves did not choose that.
He simply drew upon the spirit power he had left.
But Scaramuccia merely snorted at the sight.
"All your high-ranking spirits have been reverse-summoned. What exactly do you intend to do?"
"This is what I intend to do."
Silves answered his sneer with a smile.
The man was right.
Silves’s full strength—the four high-ranking spirits representing each element—had all been reverse-summoned.
But—
Was there not still something left?
Me, Silves Fraxinus.
Rather than manifesting the power of spirits from the spirit realm into this world—
"If spirits cannot harm you—"
He would assimilate with the spirits themselves.
"Then I will just beat the hell out of you myself."
Blue. Red. Brown. Green.
The four colors enveloped Professor Silves, and the traits each spirit possessed manifested upon the elf’s body.
Green wings sprouted from his back.
A fiery mane spread from his neck across his entire body.
Droplets of water formed around him and took aim at Scaramuccia.
And the hand gripping a greatsword of stone circled Silves once before slamming into the ground.
The ultimate art of spirit magic: [Spirit Unity].
"Do you think something like that can kill me?"
Yet even at the sight of an ultimate art, Scaramuccia looked utterly unfazed.
"No."
Silves nodded as if agreeing with him.
He knew.
That he could not kill the man before him with this.
Since the power of spirits had done nothing to him, his own attacks combined with that power might do nothing either.
But—
So what?
"This is still better than feeling my stomach get punched through."
At the very least—
He would hold out until the students had evacuated.
I have lived a long time.
And I will live a long time yet.
I became a professor to watch over those short lives.
I chewed antacids so that those short lives could shine all the brighter.
Would it not be far too regrettable for those fleeting lives to end here?
That was why he fought.
Because that was the respect one who lived long offered to those who lived briefly.
Thinking that—
The elf threw a punch.
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