Isabella

Rain had momentarily graced us with its presence; it was the kind of weather you knew would not last through the effort of looking for shelter. Yet that gentle water muffled our voices lightly, and our footsteps across the floating city felt like punctuations in an unspoken declaration of war: we are here.

「SPOTLIGHT」

Everyone’s eyes are on you. Assassin’s eyes, of course. But also rich eyes. Noble eyes. They know you don’t belong. You two stand out like infections, making your way through an unfamiliar body, looking for an organ to rot from the inside. They are a bunch of fucking nerds.

What was a nerd? Why did the word come to my head?

I understood the meaning of the word, but I had no reason to. Where had I heard it before? Had I heard it before, or had its meaning just entered my head, as though it had always existed?

“Who are we looking for?”

“My master,” Gilder hissed. “Reven of Arcadia. When it comes to being a blacksmith…the old man is the best there is, the best there was, and the best there will be.” There was anger, but also a sort of nostalgic admiration there, and he couldn’t hide a smirk when he spoke.

“And you want revenge.”

“And I want revenge,” Gilder confirmed, in a low voice. Rain heightened his silence, it made it feel uncomfortable. I glared at him until he said more. “My master…he’s the one who set me up to forge the late Emperor’s will.”

“So he’s part of Johan’s crew?”

“I suppose,” said Gilder. “Don’t really know. We never talked about politics, just about the craft...until he told me to take that job. I owed him my life twice over, so…I just went for it. Didn’t ask too many questions.”

“If you owe him your life, then why do you need revenge? Not like he killed you.”

“You aren’t wrong,” said Gilder thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s not really about the set up. If he had just told me straight up that he needed me to forge the Emperor’s will…I really would have.”

「REASON」

He doesn’t appear to be lying. The thought hadn’t come to him before, but he is not disturbed by the possibility. Despite his cowardice, death does not appear to overly frighten him. Something else concerns him, beyond the forgery.

I shook my head. “Can’t say I get it. Where are we going, anyway?”

“To buy a sword.”

“We don’t need one.” I gestured at my new blade. “I got a good one right here.”

“Speaking of which—” Here he turned to me, eyebrow raised “—Isabella, how did you get a new blade while we were aboard a goddamn ship? I certainly didn’t make you one.”

“Does it matter?”

“Suppose not.” Gilder, in spite of his words, looked bewildered, yet appeared hesitant, like he wanted to know more. I did not volunteer more information, which prompted him to say, “We met before, you know?”

“Aboard the ship? I remember.”

“No…back when you were the Champion of Isla. I was attempting to sponsor young duellists back then, but you turned me down.”

That felt like a lifetime ago. Champion of Isla…that was an interesting time. Back when I was lying to myself and pretending I cared about fencing. It was a small city, and the Champion at the time had stats totalling around 390. With my pathetic stats, and a little help from grandpa’s teachings I managed to sneak myself up there for just a little bit. A small, quaint stadium…but the cheers felt nice.

I cried tears of happiness back then, of course, but their hypocrisy stung too hard.

Whose tears were these? I remember thinking. Crying over someone else’s passion, with a victory I won due to the privilege of being born his granddaughter…it all felt hollow. It wasn’t my hard work that got me up there. It wasn’t even my desire that took me there. I had hoped that if I stood there, on that stage, I would feel…something. Anything. But I just felt like an impostor, standing on somebody else’s stage, duelling in someone else’s sport, priding myself over someone else’s actions…

That I lost the title just a short while later was probably deserved.

「MUSCLES」

You always make things so complicated. If your feelings are complicated, it just means you haven’t worked hard enough. You can’t contemplate your place in the universe when your entire body is aching from a day of exercise.

「FENCING」

Your fencing at the time was a pathetic imitation of Duartes’ skill. You know you only got away with it because your opponent was ill. It was a mockery of a mirror of his first title win—one you didn’t seek to correct.

「SPOTLIGHT」

You had all the eyes on you. You enjoyed the spotlight, ah you did. But you didn’t enjoy doing what it took to get there. You loved basking in the adoration of the universe, but you didn’t enjoy having to earn their love.

「WINNING」

You should have won that match. Words aren’t needed to summon the match back in your mind, are they? That rainy night, when you felt yourself out of breath, outmatched in both stats and skills, with a weak duellist whose name will be lost to history standing across from you…”Will I lose to this no-name?”

The thought dawned on you like poison, flowing from your throat and making home inside your body, spreading throughout it all. Yet you mustered no desperation in fighting him off. From the first glance you knew they were nothing special—that they wouldn’t even be able to defend the title if they won it off you.

And yet you couldn’t even imagine yourself winning against him. And when you got to the locker room that night, after that loss, you felt angry. Not that you had lost—but that you couldn’t even force tears out of your pathetic eyes. You wanted yourself to feel the frustration, shame, anger. But when everything was said and done all your felt was a quiet sense of relief. No more practices. No more responsibility. You had ‘won enough’ to lose respectably. And you desperately wish you felt differently.

「FLEXIBILITY」

There is some room to argue you weren’t at fault. It was a bad day. You would likely have retained the title in a rematch. Certainly it was a small title to begin with but you should still be proud of it. Care not for how you won it, only that you did. That you wish you had won it under different circumstances just means you had the privilege of winning it in the first place. There’s a lot to be proud of there.

「REASON」

You know this isn’t the time for it. But you also know that your emotions have been harder to control since you cracked that sphere. They are like a snarling beast, crawling out of their cave, detecting your every movement, approaching with the intent to strike at you…ever-faster, ever-hungrier, ever-merciless.

“But they can’t catch up to me if I’m moving forward,” I muttered.

Gilder perked up. “Sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just being weird,” I said, gesturing at the building before us. “Is this where your master is?”

“Yes,” Gilder replied, rather sharply. “It is.”

This was less a manor and more of a tower. The heavy security—guardsmen flanked the glass double-doors from both sides—and luxury spoke of a rich lord, yet the architecture seemed alien. Rather than a large courtyard or tall walls surrounding the property, the house itself projected upwards, nearly ten stories high as far as I could tell. Most of all, however, what differentiated it from other structures was its material; stained glass covered most of the tower, and if there was stone supporting it all it was well hidden behind it.

It’s hard to remember we are aboard a ship…what kind of magic was used to create this?

Gilder hesitated. “I’m not really needed for anything right now.” It wasn’t a question. “So there’s no need to protect a guy that goes from screwup to the next.” He gestured at the armoured guards standing by the entrance. “See those guys? It’s not just those two. There’s more guards inside. Once we’re in, it’s going to be very difficult to escape. They might let me in peacefully, but, ah…once I…talk to my master, I doubt I’ll be leaving peacefully. Or at all.” He paused. “I—I’m really not good at this sort of thing, but…you guys stop Johan, alright? That bastard is behind too much shady shit and...just promise me you’ll stop him, alright?”

His distinct smile was still there, and his voice sounded normal, as if he was telling a joke only he found amusing. But his hands were shaking.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to say. We’re here to set up the match between our team and the opposite team, no?”

“The match will be set up. This, I can promise you. I won’t do anything dumb until after that’s done. I’ll have someone send a messenger with the details…and only after that I’ll do what I’m thinking of doing.”

「REASON」

He doesn’t think he’s going to come out of that building alive. He’s probably meaning to challenge his master to a duel.

I harrumphed loudly. “Hey now, why the hurry to die?”

“Hurry?” Gilder laughed heartily at that. “It’s well past the time I depart this world. From allowing Johan to seize the throne, to being betrayed by my master, to being labelled a forger, to accidentally kidnapping a princess…I’m too dumb to live, honestly.” He flashed a bitter smile at me. “So don’t worry about it. Just let me deal with things my own way. Who knows? Maybe I’ll come out of this alive.”

Without waiting for a response, Gilder marched on, and he seemed a different man. His shoulders were broader, his back was straighter, and he walked with a dignity that seemed almost ill-fitting the man. There was a quiet sense of relaxation about him, as though nothing could hurt him anymore. As though it didn’t matter. I have to stop him. Before that fucking idiot gets himself killed for no reason.

「REASON」

You have no reason to care. He’s a good blacksmith, certainly, but if he wishes to create trouble it’s better to stay out of this.

“SO WHAT?” I shouted. Gilder looked over his shoulder for a moment, but upon realizing I was talking to no one in particular, returned to his path toward the doors. “Am I supposed to just accept this?”

「REASON」

He won’t listen to any argument you might make. The man doesn’t want to involve you or the crew any further. He wants you to focus on Johan, not on him.

There is not a single argument you can make to convince him away from walking toward his own death.

There is no way you can physically overwhelm him either without the guardsmen arresting you. There’s too many of them.

Was this it? Was I supposed to just watch this happen? Let it all take place without so much as an objection? My hand closed into a fist, tightening enough to draw my own blood.

「MUSCLES」

FUCK LOGIC.

Why are you directing your frustration at yourself when there’s a much better, perfectly valid target right before you?

You know it never works out when you try to think about things too deeply.

Just fucking go for it.

It was a terrible idea yet I did not consider not following it through—not even for a singular second. By the time Gilder had reached the entrance and started to gesture at the guardsmen about being allowed in, I had nearly caught up—and by the time he surrendered his own sword, both my feet had left the ground and I had but a singular goal in mind: take them down.

My flèche ended with my blade going through the first guard’s skull. There is this perfect moment in combat, when you land the perfect hit and know you’ve won, a moment before you hear the sound produced by your hit, two moments before your feet touch the ground, when you are already preparing your next move.

「FENCING」

You have a chance to take out the second guard before he knows what’s going on. He will try to block high. He has a suit of armour and wears a helmet—the eyes are the only valid target. But you don’t need only valid targets anymore, do you?

The guardsman was shocked and we were at close-range, but he was capable. I couldn’t really see stats all that well anymore, but his atmosphere felt like that of a strong swordsman, and his moves matched what I thought he could do. The man withdrew his longsword just in time to block my move and positioned it sideways between myself and him, pushing my blade out of alignment, so that the tip of my blade was no longer pointed at his eyes. His plan was likely to riposte after this parry.

I did not allow this.

Instead, I pushed back against his blade and cut through it.

It was like slicing through cardboard with a heated blade. His steel appeared to separate itself as if afraid of colliding with my new blade directly, choosing to destroy itself rather than clashing against the devil’s sword. There was no terror in the man’s eyes for shock had superseded it: even as my blade went through his skull there was nary a reaction from him.

When his body fell, Gilder managed to utter, “I—Isa—Isabella?” When passerbies started to scream in horror, he managed to cry out, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“They’re probably still alive. Can’t see their stats, but I think I just knocked them into [Death] not actual death. So long as someone gets to them soon, they should be fine.” There was no easy way out anymore. The crowd screamed, ran as if afraid I would attack them, and the chaos only appeared somewhat controlled because a distant scream indicated a different sort of chaos was taking place not too far from here. Good enough. “You wouldn’t let me keep you alive out of thinking you could keep me safe. Had to make it so that you couldn’t keep me out of danger to start with.”

“WHY?” Was Gilder furious, outraged, shocked or a combination of the three? It was hard for me to tell. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME! Why are you throwing away your fucking life for me?”

“It’s not that deep. I don’t really have much going for me right now. Picture me like a merchant whose wares burned down and was left with nothing. When I’m walking around the street and I see someone drop their coin purse, I can’t help but try to bring it back to them. Because they haven’t lost everything yet.” I took a step forward toward the double-glass doors . “Besides, I don’t really feel like dying anyway. I just hate this. Hate standing there doing nothing. Hate just doing the logical thing, trying too figure out what I should be feeling, what I should be doing if I were a reasonable person…it’s all a bunch of bullshit.”

This was a feeling I had felt before in my life, when I felt cornered by obligations and expectations, by my own dreams, by the person who I thought I wanted to become, by the person who I thought I HAD to become. Back then I pushed this feeling down, thinking it more than impertinent, nearly infantile. It wasn’t something that could be acted on, so it was useless to feel it. But this time, I felt like I really could act on that childish feeling.

I WANT TO BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND.

I kicked the glass doors open. They were locked, sure, but my kick broke the glass in thousands of shards, and I stepped into the tower proper. As Gilder theorized, there were more guards inside. Three of them attacked me at the same time, in near perfect synchronicity. Is that all?

The Devil’s Sword was not my protector, it was their bane.

I had realized it earlier after some mild testing. It could cut through anything. No, cutting wasn’t the right word for it. Everything that knew it would collide with it would split itself, forcibly destroying itself rather than allowing it to meet my devilish steel. Everything in this world, living or not, feared that blade.

Everything except me.

「FENCING」

Start with the one in the left. There’s no need for proper technique against these people. Just cut through their swords. Take their steel, then their lives.

The guards fell one by one. Even in this world of [Skills] there was no record of anyone who could cut through anything. When their blades were destroyed, they stared blankly as if unsure of how to proceed, as if unwilling to accept what had just transpired before their eyes. The first guard fell before he realized what had happened. The second guard fell with a determined horror, using what remained of his blade to try to parry me, and then realizing it too was cut. The last guard fell to his knees and accepted his fate. I made sure his [Death] was the least painful.

There were four other guards in the room, but they hesitated now, retreating to guard the spiral staircase that doubtlessly led to their boss. Blood covered the room now. It covered me. And more would jet out of their bodies yet.

“Isabella, p-please, you don’t have to…” Gilder trailed off, his voice weak. For the first time he appeared fearful. “This is my mess. Don’t—don’t do this.”

I knew what he was afraid of. Frankly, he had good reason to be afraid. There was no guarantee we would survive this. The sword I had stolen from the Old Gambler was mighty indeed, but being able to cut through anything was no guarantee of victory. I had no stats or [HP]. I was as fragile as Carr. If there was any measure of good sense in me still I would take a step back and take advantage of the chaos to escape.

Instead, I took a step forward into the tower and shouted, “REVEN YOU BIG FUCKING NERD, YOU OWE MY TEAM A MATCH AND MY FRIEND AN APOLOGY!”