Chapter 71: Riven and the Survivor

I steady my breathing. Strangely, it feels pleasant. Almost as if everything around me has become an ally.

The light I see for the first time in days burns vividly in my vision. Is it because of the long absence? It feels like my eyesight has sharpened far beyond what it was before.

Thanks to that, I can clearly follow the crimson trail.

"What!?"

"You tormented me plenty when I was blind, but is this all you’ve got?"

Once I can pinpoint exactly where the tip of the spear is aimed, deflecting it isn’t all that difficult. A clumsy thrust is the worst choice possible.

"You’re not going all out? You’ll regret it."

"…Tch! Shut your mouth!"

Her furious footwork is easy to read, practically spelling out the future for me. If I turn half my body aside, she passes harmlessly by. If I swing my blade, her attacks slide off into the void. It’s like I’m training with a disciple.

…Wait. Why does my body feel this light?

I’m moving far too easily. My body obeys me exactly as I will it. I can even see things I normally wouldn’t. Can this really be brushed off as “I’m in good form”? No—something must have changed.

A crimson flash arcs toward my neck.

But her movement, her breathing, even the rhythm of her step—all of it fits within my vision. No need to block with my sword. I only have to dip my body slightly, and the attack passes cleanly over me.

"What—!"

"Too slow."

The crouch gives me stored power, which I convert directly into forward momentum. My foot slams down with a sharp crack, the ground splintering slightly beneath it, and I unleash an upward sweep from left to right. My blade tears deep into Salem’s torso—judging from the feel, about halfway through her body.

"…Tch. I was aiming to cut you clean in two."

"Don’t get cocky…!"

Blood should be pouring out from that gash, but instead the flesh writhes and knits back together in moments. Normally that strike would be fatal, but it seems this level of damage is meaningless to her. Her vitality is absurd.

"Be swallowed by darkness…!"

The cleared darkness surges in again, threatening to engulf us—

"Clear away!"

A single commanding voice resounds, and the darkness instantly retreats. Apparently, when it comes to dungeon control, that one outranks Salem. Looks like I won’t be thrown headlong into pitch-blackness again anytime soon.

"Damn it!"

"Running to cheap tricks? Judging from that last hit, you must’ve realized you’ve got no chance."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

She swings down wildly, recklessly. I meet each slash with calm precision, deflecting them one by one. Attacks that once would’ve pushed me to the brink now pose no problem—I can respond without the slightest error. It feels just like the state I reached at the end of my battle with Rosalind, when the whole world moved in slow motion.

I need to finish this while my edge lasts.

"This time, it’s my turn to attack."

I parry the spear’s downward strike off to the left and step in with force. The sheer pressure drives Salem to stumble back, forced into retreat.

Should I cut here? No, it’s still not enough. If it’s not a decisive blow, she’ll just heal like before.

…No, there is a target I can take.

Her right arm, the one gripping the spear. I measure the distance carefully, step in with conviction—

The crimson spear arcs through the air as the hand holding it is severed. Even so, the fingers stay clamped tight on the shaft, a show of stubborn will.

"Why, why, why, why!"

"That’s all you ever say."

"Why was he chosen and not me! I gave everything—everything—to the Princess!"

At this point, she doesn’t even see me anymore.

Salem regrows her right arm in an instant and snatches the falling spear from the air. So even losing limbs means nothing.

Then the only option is a single, fatal strike. Neck or heart.

But even if she shifted her heart elsewhere, I wouldn’t be surprised. Which leaves the neck.

The target is set.

All that remains is to make it happen.

"You lament not being chosen, but did you ever do anything to deserve being chosen?"

"What could you possibly know! I devoted my life to the Princess, and I fought for her when needed!"

"And did you ever once sit down and truly listen to this Princess of yours?"

"—Listen…?"

Ah, I see. So that’s what this is about. I had my suspicions, but to think it really was that.

"That’s not devotion. It’s nothing more than selfish imposition."

"…Shut up."

"Did she ever truly want you to fight? Did she ever ask for your obedience?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut uuuup!"

Right on the mark, then. Figures. If my guess is correct, she’s not the type who’d ever want such things. She’s the kind who’d leave the safety of a stronghold on nothing more than a guilty hunch that it was her fault. Strange, yes—but that’s the kind of person she is. I’ll save the rest of that puzzle for later.

"Don’t you dare speak of the Princess’s heart with that mouth of yours!"

Enraged, Salem levels her spear straight at me, its tip lined up with my chest. A charging thrust—no, her everything poured into one desperate strike.

Very well. I’ll meet it head-on.

"…I’ll borrow this, Tenyuu."

Like my old friend once did, I slide my blade back into its sheath. And then—I relax completely.

"You mocking me!? If you’ve given up, then just die standing there!"

"As if I’d be mocking you."

She takes my motion as a taunt and lets her killing intent flare even higher. She lowers her stance, stomps down hard, gathering strength… and then she fires herself like an arrow loosed from a bow. The blast of dust is all that remains where she stood.

Her speed is lightning itself. Even the sound of her spear splitting the air lags behind. The crimson tip lunges for my heart.

But I move beyond it.

"—Wha…?"

"It’s over."

I gently return my blade to its sheath.

Behind me comes a dull thud—the sound of a head hitting the ground.

—A flash strike. The fastest cut, faster than even a blink. Tenyuu called it Iai. Just before her attack could reach me, I stepped half a beat deeper into her range, the spear grazing my skin. From there, I swung without thought, severing her head.

I exhale long and hard. Exhaustion weighs down on me; the technique drains more than I expected. I was sure my body could handle it this time, but this isn’t a move I can rely on often.

"R-Riven…"

"Hm? What is it?"

"T-that…"

I’d let out my breath, convinced it was done. But apparently, it’s not. Charlotte points behind me with a trembling finger.

With a sigh, I turn around.

Salem’s body is still standing, refusing to fall even headless.

"So she doesn’t die from decapitation either. Should I test which part I need to crush to finally kill her?"

"…No need. She’ll collapse soon enough."

The severed head speaks. She’s no longer anything like the human I imagined—though, truth be told, the regeneration already made that clear. But what does she mean by “collapse”?

"Ahh… what a shame."

"You’ve suddenly gone calm. What’s changed?"

"Once you know it’s over, well… even I can accept it."

Hm. I suppose that makes sense. When you know there’s no other option, you can commit yourself fully. Even if failure might drag others down with you.

"There’s not much time left, so as the loser, I’ll leave you a curse."

"Spare me. Just die already."

"Don’t say that. Listening to a loser’s last words is a victor’s duty, isn’t it?"

…Fair enough, I can’t exactly deny that. Still, it feels like I’m dealing with a talking corpse, and the longer this drags on, the worse it feels.

"‘Give my regards to Raidius.’"

No sooner had she spoken those words than what had been Salem turned liquid and scattered across the ground.

A glint caught my eye. Where she had been, a white gem now lay shining.

"Ah… that gem is…?"

"That’s Salem’s Heart Core. I’ll hold onto it for now."

Trishel slid in from the side and picked up the white stone.

Hm, well… that’s fine. Thinking of it as something that came from her corpse doesn’t exactly inspire me to do anything more with it.

Still, considering how Salem looked and acted, she must have been from the White Clan. In that case, could this serve as proof of their defeat?

As I considered that, our eyes met.

Apparently, Trishel wants me to let this matter rest here. Fine. I’m not about to stir trouble in the current situation either. Later—yes, later—there should be time for a proper discussion.

…but more importantly.

I let my gaze drift sideways, toward the person standing there.

Her white hair shone brilliantly, and her pale blue eyes glistened with tears. Honestly, I’d never noticed it before—but now, looking at her…

"…I’m so glad. Really."

"Mmm."

"I’m really glad…!"

"Whoa! Stop! Don’t hug me like that!"

When someone’s lost in thought, she comes running, crying, and hugging you.

Hey, this girl has zero sense of danger!

She was surprisingly strong too, and I had to struggle a bit to pull her away.

Even after I managed to free myself, Trishelle’s gaze pierced me with layers of unspoken thoughts, which made it impossible to ignore.

…Yeah, I get it. I’m not narrow-minded enough to scold her in the current situation.

Considering all she’s done for me until now, it’d be unreasonable to disregard it.

We’ll talk properly. Slowly. For now, at least, the immediate crisis is over.

"Let’s go home. First, we need to let the others outside know that everything ended safely."

"Ah! Speaking of safe… why did you go and cut your own neck like that!?"

"Alright, alright. I’ll explain everything later. For now, let’s get outside!"

"I couldn’t stop worrying when I saw that! Hey, wait a second!"

…Yeah, that’s true.

It’s noisy, but… somehow, it’s not unpleasant.

Seems I’ve actually grown quite fond of this.