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Chapter 23: Endless Erosion

He who looks in from the outside through an open window,

never sees as much as he who looks at a closed window.

– Charles Baudelaire


The mutated girl, her red eyes glowing fiercely, cast off the cloak she wore, revealing her true appearance.

Half of her beautiful face was cracked. A twisted horn protruded from the side of her head, and distorted, scale-like crystals covered parts of her body. A long, bellows-like tail swayed from her waist.

Her appearance was clearly far from normal. Her slender right arm shifted and transformed with a sickening, crunching sound.

It took the shape of a massive scythe, carrying a sinister hue—likely the God Arc she had once wielded.

The girl hoisted the massive scythe—the tragic remnant of a Variant Scythe—high into the air and brought it down.

Aiming right at the one-eyed, white-haired young man standing before her─────

A sharp, hard metallic clang echoed.

"It's a good thing I brought my God Arc."

The one-eyed, white-haired young man, Ein, held his stance, blocking the swung scythe with his feather-white greatsword, Evil One.

Gya-rin, gyari gyari gyari!

The weapons locked together in a fierce clash of blades, letting out a screeching shriek.

With her blood-red eyes wide open and fangs bared, the girl pushed her scythe against the blocking greatsword with even greater force.

What power. This is completely incomparable to an average God Eater. Ein furrowed his brow.

"Stop it! Bell!! You mustn't fight!!!"

A robed man with a cross-shaped scar between his brows desperately pleaded with the girl, but she showed no reaction, as if she couldn't hear him.

"URGHAAAAAA!!! KILL... ARAGAMI!!!"

Howling with a beast-like voice, the girl forced her scythe into a horizontal sweep, repelling the greatsword before slashing at him once again.

Ein swiftly turned the back of his greatsword, meeting the incoming scythe's blade edge-to-edge to intercept and deflect it.

The high-pitched metallic clangs of the God Arcs echoed repeatedly in a fierce exchange of slashes.

As the girl pressed forward, indiscriminately destroying the scattered scrap around them, Ein skillfully parried and dodged her attacks.

Lightning surged from the scythe the girl swung, sparking with countless flashes.

Her movements were savage, like those of a wild beast, yet underneath lay the refined combat style of a God Eater. She occasionally mixed in feints and struck out with the sharp, pointed tip of her scorpion-like tail.

A red flash enveloped Ein's greatsword; as blade met blade, intense sparks scattered.

Parrying, sweeping, striking—he calmly observed every single movement the girl made, dealing with her attacks without missing a single opening. Ein carefully assessed the girl crossing blades with him.

Crossing weapons made it clear. The strength of this girl, whose Aragamification was advancing, could not be underestimated. If he wanted to subdue her by force, he would have to fight seriously. If it came to that, it was obvious neither of them would emerge unscathed.

Caught in a back-and-forth struggle, both sides found it difficult to land a decisive blow. Werner ground his teeth. He never expected things to turn out like this. Her Aragamification had progressed far beyond what he had imagined.

It started after the Aragami personality emerged during their previous fight against the Prithvi Mata variant. The awakening of her inner Aragami instincts had become remarkably prominent.

Noticing the commotion, people began gathering around. Keeping their distance, they watched the situation with a mix of fear and deep curiosity.

They were right next to the town. Fighting here was far too dangerous.

The God Eaters of the defense force couldn't hide their confusion. Seeing Ein, a prominent figure and investor of their Port, engaged in combat, they had no choice but to stand by and watch, unsure of what to do.

"T-Terrible news! A herd of Aragami!!"

One of the onlookers, who had been distracted by the sudden fight between the God Eaters, cried out.

From afar, kicking up clouds of dust, a massive horde of Aragami could be seen surging toward the town.

The crowd immediately began to panic.

Tch, at a time like this.

The anti-Aragami barrier utilizing Retro Oracle Cells was still under construction around the town's outer walls; it was not fully operational yet.

However, the Aragami horde veered off and passed by the town. It was as if they showed absolutely no interest in it.

What does this mean...?

Suddenly, Ein felt the weight of the God Arc pressing against his lighten. When he looked back, the mutated girl had stopped dead in her tracks, staring fixedly in the direction the Aragami had gone.

"They are calling..."

"...What did you say?"

Muttering to no one in particular, the girl's body became enveloped in lightning energy. Emitting a crackling electrical discharge, she manifested wings on her back.

Flapping those wings, the girl took to the sky and soared off in the direction the Aragami had departed.

"Bell!? Where are you going!!! Wait! Hey!!!"

Bewildered by the girl's sudden, bizarre behavior, Werner flared his cloak, leaped, and executed a Dive to pursue her.

Left behind were only the destroyed remnants of scrap metal, while the surrounding spectators stood dumbfounded by the rapid sequence of events.

Ein rested his greatsword on his shoulder and let out a long breath.

He was concerned about the destination of the Aragami horde that had just passed.

And the girl who flew off chasing after them.

He had a bad feeling about this.

The raging god within him whispered.

Following the invasion of the Yamata no Orochi a few months ago, Fenrir—now the Gleipnir headquarters—had been attacked by a mysterious army of Aragami. It was the work of unknown perpetrators, but disaster was averted thanks to the efforts of a certain individual.

That person had been largely outside the norm, but he sensed this girl possessed an equivalent power.

"Looks like something troublesome is about to happen again..."

Ein narrowed his single eye, gazing at the gray sky where the girl and her companion had disappeared.

Emiya-Mari

Author's Note

Original or closest version: Les Fenêtres (“The Windows”) by Charles Baudelaire French: Celui qui regarde du dehors à travers une fenêtre ouverte ne voit jamais autant de choses que celui qui regarde une fenêtre fermée. Il n'est pas d'objet plus profond, plus mystérieux, plus fécond, plus ténébreux, plus éblouissant qu'une fenêtre éclairée par une chandelle. Ce qu'on peut voir au soleil est toujours moins intéressant que ce qui se passe derrière une vitre. Dans ce trou noir ou lumineux vit la vie, rêve la vie, souffre la vie. Par-delà les vagues des toits, j'aperçois une femme mûre, ridée déjà, pauvre, toujours penchée sur quelque chose, et qui ne sort jamais. Avec son visage, avec son vêtement, avec son geste, avec presque rien, j'ai refait l'histoire de cette femme, ou plutôt sa légende, et quelquefois je me la raconte à moi-même en pleurant. Si c'eût été un pauvre vieux homme, j'aurais refait la sienne tout aussi aisément. Et je me couche, fier d'avoir vécu et souffert dans d'autres que moi-même. Peut-être me direz-vous: "Es-tu sûr que cette légende soit la vraie?" Qu'importe ce que peut être la réalité placée hors de moi, si elle m'a aidé à vivre, à sentir que je suis et ce que je suis? English: He that looketh from without through an open window beholdeth never so many things as he that gazeth upon a window shut. There is no object more profound, more mysterious, more fruitful, more shadowed, nor more dazzling than a window illumined by a single candle. That which may be seen beneath the sun is ever less wondrous than that which passeth behind a pane of glass. Within that dark or radiant hollow liveth life, dreameth life, suffereth life. Beyond the rolling waves of the rooftops, I espy a woman of riper years, already lined with age, poor, and ever bent above somewhat, who goeth forth no more. By her countenance, by her raiment, by her gesture—aye, by almost naught—I have fashioned the tale of this woman, or rather her legend; and at times do I recount it unto mine own self with tears. Had it been a poor old man, I should with equal ease have wrought his tale likewise. And I lie me down, proud to have lived and suffered within others than mine own self. Perchance thou wilt say unto me: “Art thou certain that this legend be the truth?” What matter what the reality may be beyond me, if it hath aided me to live, and to feel that I am, and what I am?

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