by Yuu Miyazaki
“It was. Perfect timing, in fact, I would say,” Claudia answered, still marching down the hall without so much as a backward glance, her usual enigmatic smile rising to her lips.
“Heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha! Well, that was impressive. Yes, very surprising… Quite beyond my expectations. Young Enfield really is something.” Madiath’s uncontrolled laughter reverberated throughout his office as he offered her his unfeigned applause.
In front of him was an air-window showing the live broadcast from Team Enfield’s winner’s interview, but he promptly changed the channel to CM.
“It looks like getting rid of the broadcast delay was the right decision after all.”
In the past, live broadcasts of the Festa and related events had been subject to a delay to give the tournament administrators enough time to prevent unacceptable content from reaching the public. The fans, however, had been strongly opposed to this arrangement from the very beginning, and abolishing the practice had been one of Madiath’s first acts as Executive Committee chairman.
“…What’s the meaning of this, Madiath?” a disinterested voice asked from the corner of the room.
The figure of the young woman, all but dissolving into the wall like a shadow and sporting a mechanical necklace-like object wrapped around her throat, belonged to Varda.
“Why does she want to see Ladislav?”
“Oh? Are you worried about your dear father?”
“…He might have created me, but we don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“It was a joke. But as for why young Enfield wants to meet the professor, even I don’t… Hmm?”
At that moment, his mobile began to ring.
As he opened an air-window, the face of a fuming, redheaded young man appeared in front of him.
“What’s the meaning of this, Madiath?!”
Madiath couldn’t help but grin at the words, exactly the same as Varda’s. “I’m afraid I’m just as shocked as you are. Why don’t you try asking her directly? I’d like to know myself.”
“Don’t play dumb with me! If you know something, spit it out!”
“Believe me, I have no idea what she’s trying to achieve,” he answered honestly. “All I know is that she’s been looking into the professor for some time now, which seems to have upset Galaxy quite a bit.”
Dirk glared back at him as if he found that difficult to believe. “…Fine. But that woman’s out of her mind. Picking a fight with a foundation—and the one backing her own school at that… Does she have a death wish or something?”
“I can’t deny that that does seem like the most probable outcome at this rate. But I do think this will make things slightly more complicated.”
“What?”
“What I mean is that dealing with this won’t be straightforward.” Madiath leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he curled his lips. “This is the perfect chance to bring Galaxy down. And given that there’s been a power balance among the six foundations for so long now, do you really think the others will let this opportunity pass by?”
“But the others shouldn’t even know about Varda. And Ladislav was only the ideological leader behind the Jade Twilight Incident, nothing more. Yes, it would be damaging for them if that was to get out, but…” Dirk paused there, crossing his arms, deep in thought. “To begin with, hasn’t Galaxy already come to some kind of agreement with the others about how to deal with him? They can’t break that now, can they?”
“That is indeed the case. This is an internal problem for Galaxy. They will, of course, try to extinguish this little conflagration, but if the others merely object to their methods, that won’t be enough to constitute a violation of the agreement, wouldn’t you say? Even from an ethical standpoint, the blame will fall squarely on Galaxy.”
Madiath’s sense of ethics had become somewhat extenuated for a period of time now, but while it was of little use in and of itself, he couldn’t say that it was completely devoid of value, given his public position.
Dirk snorted in irritation. “Hmph! I guess it will be difficult for them to do anything out in the open if the other five are breathing down their necks…”
“And this time, it will be five against one. Even Galaxy won’t want to do anything reckless. All it should take is for the others to give them a fair warning.”
“Do you really think it’ll get that far?”
“It will. I’ll make sure of that.”
“…So you’d side with that little vixen?” Dirk fumed, his voice positively seething with anger.
Madiath, however, merely smiled. “As chairman of the Executive Committee, isn’t it only natural for me to protect our participants?”
“…Tch! You’re more or less an executive at Galaxy yourself. Don’t come crying to me if it comes back to bite you.”
“Of course, it will need a deft hand. Besides, if they do get serious—that is, if they’re prepared to incur some losses—even I won’t be able to stop them,” Madiath answered with a faint smile.
At that moment, Dirk, his rage finally boiling over, cut the transmission.
“Good grief…,” muttered Varda, who until then had been listening to the exchange in silence. “You humans are beyond comprehension. Why are you trying to further complicate things for yourselves? How illogical.”
She probably wasn’t expecting an answer, but Madiath let out a small laugh anyway. “The way I see it, things are more interesting that way.”
The special conference room in Galaxy’s headquarters was completely devoid of ostentation.
It was filled only with a long table, surrounded by a neat row of chairs on either side. Anyone entering it for the first time would no doubt be struck by how utterly uninspiring it was.
That was what Nicholas Enfield had felt the first time he had come there.
Sitting at attention in the seat closest to the wall, he understood well enough the rationale behind the total lack of decoration.
In this room, anything that did not exist to benefit Galaxy was unnecessary.
That rule applied equally both to objects and people.
“Well then, if everyone’s arrived, let us begin,” a cold, calm voice announced.
Galaxy’s eighteen highest executives—of whom more than half were attending through video link—turned their gazes toward the woman who had spoken first.
She was Isabella Enfield, Nicholas’s wife and superior—and one of the highest executives present. Her graceful blond hair, tied up in a bun, and her well-tailored black suit both served to emphasize her rare beauty, and all of it completely belied her true age. She looked upon everyone there with a calm smile—the only expression that Nicholas had seen her give to anyone in over ten years.
Her eyes, however, emanated the same machinelike iciness as each of the other executives.
“This meeting concerns how to deal with Seidoukan Academy’s student council president, Claudia Enfield,” she said plainly and dispassionately. “Please give us all your unreserved opinions.” It was her own daughter whom she was talking about, but there wasn’t so much as a shred of emotion in her voice.
Nor did any of the other executives mention that fact. That was to be expected. No one who clung to selfish desires, such as concern for one’s family, would have been able to reach their kind of position within the integrated enterprise foundations.
“We have already received requests from EP, Solnage, and Frauenlob to come to a fair decision under the pretext of the Festa. W&W and Jie Long seem prepared to do the same.”
“What a nuisance.”
“That will make any open methods of dealing with her difficult.”
“But we cannot leave her be.”
“There is no guarantee that her team will win. Perhaps we should continue to monitor the situation?”
“Even so, we will have to make certain preparations.”
“Given that it relates to the Festa, we should use Madiath Mesa. If we were to give him a valid reason t
o disqualify her…”
“No, he can’t be trusted.”
“Moreover, there will be a backlash if we are seen to have had a hand in it.”
The executives raised their voices in turn. There was no interruption, and yet, no sooner had one person finished speaking than the next would begin, without pause. Each one had been stripped of personality to the extent that it was impossible to tell who had said what.
There was no need to distinguish among them here.
They never exchanged opinions, only logical evaluations of information and possibility.
One could even say that the huge corporate entity that was Galaxy was engaging in a dialogue with itself.
“What if we disposed of Bartošik?”
“That would violate the agreement with the Varda-Vaos.”
“Is there any need to honor it?”
“We will lose everything if its existence leaks out. It would be unwise to antagonize it.”
“What is its present status?”
“According to the report from Yabuki’s group, it seems to have been identified in Rikka at the beginning of spring…”
“It will be quicker to deal with Claudia Enfield directly than to try to do something with Bartošik.”
“What if we used Yabuki’s group?”
“No, that should be the last resort. More importantly…”
“Galaxy’s position must be…”
From Nicholas’s position, the room seemed to have lapsed into silence, but while their eerie voices had faded away, the wheels of their conversation were still turning.
“Well then, if everyone is agreed, let us proceed accordingly,” Isabella stated finally, before standing to announce the end of the meeting.
It was the fourth day of the Gryps at the Canopus Dome.
Hufeng Zhao stood motionless on the stage, at a complete loss for words.
His master, Xinglou Fan, had, as usual, given them all an impossible order.
He could understand her instructions for the first round: for Xiaohui Wu not to engage in combat, leaving the match to the team’s four other members. It made sense, in a certain way, to try to keep Xiaohui’s prowess a secret. And given the relative strength of the opposing team during that first round, that handicap hadn’t proved to be a problem.
Still, he found it impossible to understand her instructions for the second round.
In a complete reversal, this time, Xiaohui was to take down the opposing team all by himself. If they had been facing a team as weak as the last one, Hufeng might have been able to see some logic to it. There was no denying that Xiaohui would have been able to handle such a team. However, it was a mistake, Hufeng felt, to take their opponents so lightly this time around.
The opposing team’s leader was Seidoukan’s fourth-ranked fighter, the Mage of Icy Shards, Hrimthurs. The other members were all listed, too. Even if they weren’t at a level where they might be expected to take the championship, they were certainly strong enough to reach the main tournament.
The preliminaries were designed in such a way that the teams with the best prospects didn’t end up facing one another, but the situation was different for strong teams of average standing. After all, it would reflect poorly on the Festa’s administration if the tournament was entirely predictable.
One or two such teams were inevitably allocated to each block that contained a favorite team. And whenever there was an unexpected development in the Gryps, it was usually at the hands of one of them.
However—
“I-incredible! Who could have expected that the match that everyone expected to be the highlight of the second round would unfold so one-sidedly?” The announcer’s voice, echoing through the arena, was trembling. On the other side of the protective gel, the audience was as silent as the grave.
There was little wonder why.
Even Hufeng and his teammates had been left completely dumbfounded.
In the center of the stage, two young men—Hrimthurs and Xiaohui—stood facing off against each other. The other Seidoukan students lay defeated on the ground around them.
“Huff…huff…!” Hrimthurs, breathing heavily, his handsome face distorted in exertion, was gripping a sword of ice he had created with his abilities, bracing himself for combat.
Across from him, Xiaohui, his spear-like Lux held in one hand, looked down on him calmly.
“Heh… This must be a bad dream, Hagun Seikun.”
“…”
Hrimthurs glared at his opponent, his cold eyes brimming with fury.
Mana stirred around them, and a chill wind that could be felt even across the stage dozens of yards away began to pick up strength.
“At least let me deal one blow!”
With that, the ground within a diameter of close to ten yards around Hrimthurs suddenly froze solid.
No, Hufeng corrected himself, it wasn’t only the ground. Xiaohui’s feet, all the way up to his calves, were encased in ice, too, restricting his movements.
“Haaaaaaaaah!” At that moment, Hrimthurs summoned six long spears of ice, launching them at Xiaohui with a shrill cry.
It was a long-range attack from multiple angles against an immobile opponent. Not at all a bad move.
“…”
Xiaohui, however, casually struck at the ice that encased his feet with the butt of his spear, shattering it instantly.
In the midst of the ice fragments dancing around him like diamond dust, he swung his left hand toward the approaching spears of ice—a slip of paper materializing between his fingers.
The spell imbued in the charm took form with a sudden burst, and a wall of flame erupted in front of him. The ice spears flew straight into it, sublimating into steam in the blink of an eye.
“Now’s my chance!” Hrimthurs cried out, leaping through the rising steam and unleashing a slash attack.
He was fast. On top of that, he had somehow managed to freeze the ground and hold Xiaohui in place once again.
He might have only been able to hold Xiaohui back for a moment, but it was clear that he was a Dante of incredible skill and technique.
But even so, Xiaohui was still able to deflect the desperate attack without so much as batting an eyelid.
Hrimthurs was clearly the faster of the two. Moreover, at that distance, his sword of ice should have been much more effective than a long, two-handed weapon like Xiaohui’s spear. And yet, with a graceful, almost imperceptible movement, Xiaohui parried the strike.
Hrimthurs took his blade in both hands, trying to push back his opponent. Yet Xiaohui, far from wavering under the force of Hrimthurs’s attack, was holding his spear with only one hand, shaking off his opponent and shattering his sword of ice into countless air-borne particles.
“What—?!”
There was a world of difference between their physical abilities.
Even so, Hrimthurs didn’t falter, summoning a new, larger sword of ice and launching one strike after another before raising an ear-splitting cry and lunging out with all his strength.
And yet, he still couldn’t reach his opponent. He couldn’t even get close.
“…”
Throughout it all, Xiaohui’s expression remained completely unreadable.
The first thing to break was, of course, the ice sword.
With each stroke, cracks spread along its pale-blue surface—small chips flying off in every direction—until finally it shattered with a clear, crystalline burst of sound.
“—!”
Despair engulfed Hrimthurs’s face.
At that instant, Xiaohui stepped forward—that was all it took for the ice surrounding him to shatter into mist—and casually placed his palm on Hrimthurs’s stomach.
It was a slow, graceful blow, so gentle that it looked almost like a massage.
A tremendous shock shot through Hrimthurs’s body, strong enough to echo across the stage and create a deep crater around the two fighters.
Hrimthurs lost consciousness, crumbling onto
the floor like a doll whose wires had been cut.
“End of battle! Winners: Team Yellow Dragon!”
As the automated voice rang throughout the arena, Hufeng finally felt as if he understood why his master had told him not to worry about Xiaohui.
“That boy will have no problems, no matter what.”
Her confidence in him hadn’t been misplaced.
Xinglou attached great importance to individual strength, and so it was rare for her disciples to fight together in teams. She would do nothing to stop them from studying such fighting techniques independently, and she might even assist them if asked, but for her, fighting alongside others was an extension of one’s ability to fight for one’s self.
“Well, that’s Elder Brother for you. I can’t say I was expecting that,” Cecily muttered beside him.
“I thought we knew just how strong he was—”
“—but that was just like watching our master fight.”
Judging by the tone of their voices, even the twins were taken aback.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time they had all seen Xiaohui fight, and they had even trained with him themselves in the past.
However, they could see now that what they had witnessed then was only a fraction of his power.
“…Let’s go back,” Xiaohui said as he strode toward the gate.
His four teammates all dropped to one knee, placing their right fists in their left palms as a gesture of respect.
“That was amazing, Elder Brother!”
It was the sixth day of the Gryps at the Sirius Dome.
Normally, those who were too strong weren’t welcome at the Festa.
The spectators tended to have little interest in contestants who ended their matches too quickly, so the real job of the Festa’s administration was to ensure that the level of excitement remained steady throughout the tournament. If they failed to do that, the television programs would lose viewers, and the gambling houses would decline in popularity.
The exceptions to the rule were those contestants who had something to offer other than raw ability.
