Chapter 45: Riven and the Devilish Noblewoman

"That makes three. Looks like that’s all of them."

"Maybe so. Well then, shall we?"

"Heh, I don’t mind. You seem prepared as well."

It was Reynard, wearing gear far lighter than his usual crimson armor, who stepped forward. He walked up beside me and quietly raised his sword. Different from the one he carried last time.

So he came after all. No—what a pathetic thought. I could only laugh at myself for feeling relief. But no matter what, this is someone who must be defeated here and now. Everything else is secondary.

"Am I intruding?"

"...No, you’re a lifesaver. Please, help me."

"Glad to hear you say it. Though, the question is how best to do this."

Reynard shifted his weight, stepping forward a half pace, then drawing back, as if measuring the distance. We stood at the very edge of her whip’s reach. One step too close, and that strike would lash out without mercy.

"By the way, Riven. You’ve always been better at attacking with a blade, haven’t you?"

"What’s with the sudden question?"

"Just shop talk. Truth is, I’ve never been that good at offensive swordplay. My specialty is—"

As he spoke, he stepped forward casually.

Predictably, Rosalind swung her whip.

CRACK! The sound barrier shattered, and everything in the strike’s path was splintering apart before it even reached him. The lash flew straight for Reynard—

"—defense like this."

The flat of his upright sword caught the very tip of Rosalind’s whip.

My eyes widened. Not just the precision it took to stop it dead, but the way he absorbed that colossal impact as if it were nothing. If I tried the same, my blade would snap in two. That’s why I’d never once blocked her whip with my sword.

I wasn’t the only one shocked—Rosalind’s eyes flickered for an instant. But her expression quickly reset.

"...I must admit, that surprised me."

"Good. I was worried I might bore you."

"That sword of yours—it doesn’t cut, does it?"

A sword that doesn’t cut? What?

Though there was the faintest tremor of unease at being found out, Reynard explained smoothly without letting it show.

"Exactly. It’s enchanted to absorb impact. Otherwise, that last hit would’ve snapped it clean in half."

"A sword for defense... how peculiar. Most would simply use a shield."

"Hah. I hear that all the time. ‘Why bother with a sword?’ they say."

Rosalind lashed out again, testing him. Reynard read the motion instantly, meeting the strike once more with his blade.

BANG! Then flop—the whip’s tip drooped to the ground, powerless. The absorption effect was as strong as he claimed.

"So then, think we’ve opened a path forward?"

"My thanks. This helps a lot."

"Leave it to me."

Together, we pressed forward. At once, Rosalind unleashed a storm of lashes.

We read her arm movements, predicting the whip’s arcs, trading places step by step to advance. Reynard was the only one who could block the whip—so my role was to move perfectly to keep his defense effective.

A single hesitation would mean more strikes to endure. More strikes meant more chances to fail. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Reynard—it was that I couldn’t afford to give him unnecessary risks.

The spotlight loomed closer. For just a few steps, the effort felt unbearable. We were nearly in range when—

A crushing blow slammed into our stomachs, sending us flying, bouncing across the ground.

"I believe that will suffice."

Her merciless declaration rang out.

I pushed myself up, dazed, and finally understood what happened when I looked at Rosalind.

"Let’s move on to the next stage."

Her whip unraveled into eight slender cords. Each writhed with a will of its own, raising like snakes to glare our way.

"From here on, I shall face you in earnest."

The signal that playtime was over.

"Cough... an honor, really."

"Reynard, watch out. Those cords move entirely at her command."

"So what you’re saying is...?"

"Think of it as eight whips, all with the same strength as before, each following its own unpredictable path."

"Well then... that’ll be worth defending against. Any strategy in mind?"

Strategy... I’d fought her many times, but only once had I pushed her this far. That time, Tenyuu was by my side.

No room for sentiment now. Recall what I’ve learned.

"...Her greatest strength is her processing speed."

"I see."

"Even with eight independent arms, she’s still just one person. She can’t react to the unexpected."

"So unless we take her by surprise, beating her’s impossible. Got it. A worthy opponent."

Blunt words, but I didn’t deny them. I couldn’t. No straightforward approach would win this. To crush her head-on, you’d need to be some four-headed, eleven-armed monster. That’s no human. Which means we must rely on more practical methods.

"Let’s go!"

"I’ll match you!"

We charged again. Closing the distance was the only option. Staying at range meant certain defeat—our attacks had to reach her, or nothing else mattered.

Focus. Watch closely. With eight lashes, she’s bound to mix in feints. That’s her style—guide us where she wants, then trap us.

The first and second whips cut off our escape routes, barring our sides. They wouldn’t strike us directly.

The third and fourth—Reynard deflected them cleanly.

The fifth—I dodged by a hair.

The sixth—damn, impossible. The only way to avoid it is to retreat.

"This time, I really mean it—don’t let your guard down, got it?"

While I was staggering to dodge another whip strike, a different voice rang out from above the stage—not Rosalind’s.

Before I realized it, Trishel had taken position behind her.

"Making your victory speech already? That’s something you only do once your opponent can’t stand anymore."

Above the stage, countless spears of flame appeared, their points aimed at Rosalind. To avoid being caught in her own spell, Trishel, clearly a mage, kept her distance.

"Thanks for the lesson. Now die."

Brilliant crimson spears pierced into Rosalind, wrapping her body in fire. The torrent surged higher, reaching the ceiling, where it split apart and scorched everything it touched, showing off its overwhelming power.

It hadn’t worked earlier, but this time the firepower was on a whole different level. Could this be it...?

"I told you already, didn’t I? Your firepower is lacking."

Her voice came from inside the blazing pillar.

Reynard and I didn’t hesitate. We broke into a sprint. If she wasn’t finished, then we had to close the distance while her focus was still split.

From within the flames, a whip lashed out and struck Trishel across the torso.

THUD! Her body was hurled back, slamming into the far wall of the stage. The sound echoed sharply. It wasn’t far, but that only made the impact worse. Would she even be able to stand again so soon...?

"You two should remember—never let your guard down until you see the corpse."

"Look out!"

Reynard intercepted another whip strike just in time.

The pillar of fire dispersed.

Out stepped Rosalind, her clothes singed here and there, but her body otherwise unharmed. She was still in fighting form. Hurt, perhaps, but not decisively.

This was the moment to strike. If we didn’t end it now, our chance at victory would disappear.

"Reynard, we go on the offensive!"

"Understood!"

From that point, words were unnecessary.

We twisted our bodies, switched places, blocked, dodged, and optimized every movement. Until finally, we made it onto the stage itself.

I tightened my grip on my sword and swung for Rosalind.

Predictably, one of her whips intercepted the blade. But now we’d proven we could reach her directly. That realization was mutual.

Even as her position grew dangerous, she smiled with delight.

She was mocking us. I clenched my teeth.

"Uooooooohhh!"

"Such spirit you have."

CRASH! Rubble burst apart. WHOOSH! The wind roared past my ears.

I no longer had time to even confirm Reynard’s position. I simply trusted he was there—that he had to be there. There was no margin for error. If we failed, that was the end. Against her, nothing less would work.

I pressed forward with relentless attacks, unleashing strike after strike without pause.

And still, she met them with an almost leisurely air. Her whips blocked with such mechanical precision it felt like they were moving on their own.

So she had more speed, more hands? Who cared? Reach her. Make it land.

"Desperation alone will never reach me."

"Like hell it won’t!"

This was no longer strength alone—it was willpower. Everything I’d trained, everything I’d endured, I brought to bear here. To surpass her. To force her acknowledgment. I poured my entire being into each strike.

I lunged, reckless, and in that moment, I saw it.

"...See? Wide open."

A glint of light flashed across my vision—just before Rosalind’s throat.

For the first time, her posture faltered.

A blade ring had slipped around from below, grazing her throat. It took me a second to even realize what I was seeing. Some kind of perception interference—though I should have seen it, my attention had completely ignored it.

Rosalind’s eyes flicked upward, following the blade ring.

Don’t lose focus. Don’t waste this chance.

"Rosaliiiiiiind!"

The world slowed to a crawl.

Every step, every action I needed to take became clear.

The whip lashed for me, but I caught its tip precisely on my sword’s edge, deflecting it. A feat the me of moments ago could never have done.

I slipped through the gaps in her defense—

"And now, I’ve reached you, Rosalind."

"...So you have."

The tip of my sword pressed against Rosalind’s throat.

Yet she acted as though it meant nothing at all. Her eyes weren’t even on the blade—but on her feet.

"So, I moved after all. That was... unexpected. I had no intention of ever leaving my first spot."

"Hah... Is that supposed to be an excuse for losing?" Reynard’s voice was ragged with exhaustion.

Please, just admit defeat. If I wanted, I could end you right now.

"No, not an excuse—praise. My sincerest praise. And because of that, I’ll show you both true despair."

For a fleeting moment, her eyes met mine.

A cold smile. A chill ran down my spine.

I couldn’t allow this. If she unleashed it, we’d have no chance left.

I tightened my grip, ready to tear her throat open—

"Authority Release."