Arc 9, Part 53: "Aldebaran II"

"——Sorry for the double-dip, but the trump card is back."

Immediately after he spoke, a mass of rock with immense weight plummeted straight down from above. Aldebaran’s strategy was one he was prepared to be mocked for as a mere rehash, but the expression on Emilia’s face changed as she flew through the air, dodging the giant stone arms extending from the canyon walls.

"————"

First, her eyes widened at the existence of the giant boulder. Then, a flash of regret flickered across her cheeks and the corners of her eyes—the memory of how Aldebaran had successfully escaped her in the Royal Capital. Next, she squeezed her eyes shut as if to prevent her heart from succumbing to that sense of defeat. When she opened them again to face the falling rock, a momentary weakness of "Can I do this...?" crossed her mind, followed immediately by a surge of resolve: "I have to!" Her gaze sharpened, regaining even more strength than before she had wavered. It was a kaleidoscope of emotions that passed in a mere second; she was remarkably quick at pulling herself together.

"But spirit alone won't get you through this."

The giant rock fell, scraping and grinding against the canyon walls. The reinvigorated Emilia first tried to stop it by creating a massive lid of ice across the rock's trajectory to catch its weight. However, Aldebaran obstructed this by firing rock shells created with magic—a stone cannon—blasting through the canyon walls themselves. With the walls shattered, the ice lid could no longer wedge itself into the canyon's dimensions; it became nothing more than a secondary weight falling alongside the boulder.

"In that case—!"

The moment she saw the ice lid fail to catch the rock, Emilia immediately moved to her next plan. She redeployed the ice wings she had previously purged, looking like an angel reborn as she tucked her long legs. Then, she pressed the soles of her boots against the kicking feet of the ice soldiers positioned directly behind her—receiving a level of leg strength that the original Natsuki Subaru could never hope to produce, she rocketed forward.

"————"

Caught off guard by Emilia’s ferocious acceleration, the hundreds of arms extending from the rock walls missed her completely. The angel’s flight—no, her charge toward Aldebaran—was unimpeded. Because he had diverted his focus and actions toward interception, the speed and momentum of the fleeing Aldebaran had slowed. The distance between him and the rapidly advancing Emilia shrank in an instant. Having lost the massive advantage Yae had stayed behind to buy him, he could almost hear her voice jeering: "My, Al-sama, you really aren't worth the effort of supporting, are you~?"

"If I get caught here, you'd be right!"

Retorting to the hallucination of Yae, Aldebaran met Emilia with a barrage of stone projectiles. But Emilia dodged the rehashed attack with a divine twist of her body in mid-air.

"Are you serious!?"

Aldebaran stared in shock at the fact that she had achieved such a feat with artificial wings that shouldn't have allowed for such maneuverability. Naturally, the angel wings made of ice weren't flapping. The secret to Emilia’s current three-dimensional trajectory was the addition of smaller ice wings inside the large ones—by layering multiple wings, she could change how they cut the wind, adding the ability to use her body's tilt to catch the air like an edge. She was undoubtedly performing this aerodynamic feat through pure natural instinct.

"I'm going to catch you—!"

Even as she spun horizontally to evade, Emilia barely lost any speed. As she shouted, the distance between them vanished. At this rate, Emilia would be able to escape the impact zone of the falling boulder in time. Even his supposed trump card was being effortlessly avoided; Aldebaran was truly in a desperate pinch—that was the shared conclusion both parties must have reached at that moment.

"—!"

Emilia’s amethyst eyes widened, her large pupils staining with the color of shock. In her field of vision, Aldebaran wasn't doing anything special. He continued his barrage of projectiles that wouldn't hit, but there was no new magic deployment or super-maneuverability to evade her. The same applied to Emilia’s flight, which had gained momentum with the help of the ice soldiers. If things continued like this, she would catch up to him, and he wouldn't be able to dodge her freezing fingertips. That would mean Emilia had fulfilled the victory condition for this encounter. And yet, there was no joy or triumph in Emilia’s eyes. Because—

"—I told you, it’s a double-dip."

In exchange for stopping the immense damage the falling boulder would have caused, Aldebaran had managed to win and escape his battle with Emilia in the Royal Capital. Therefore, even if called unoriginal, he would execute the same plan that had worked once before. However, this time, there were no innocent civilians to be caught in the crossfire. —No other innocent civilians.

"—Al!!"

Emilia’s hand reached out frantically toward Aldebaran—toward the only being other than herself who was about to be caught in the force of the falling rocks.

"—It is decided! You have done well to survive the 'Sparca'! From this day forth, you are one of the gladiators of this Gladiator Island! Welcome, you scoundrel!"

The rough voice of welcome and praise was indistinguishable from an insult. Following that welcome, crude and vulgar cheers began to swallow the arena. Listening to them, Aldebaran sank to his knees, leaning against a large corpse.

He leaned limply against the remains of the mabeast Guiltylowe, which had died with a sword thrust deep into its thick neck. The Guiltylowe had lost its right front and hind legs; its expression was one of confusion and bewilderment rather than pain as its life was taken. Aldebaran, his shoulders heaving with ragged breaths, felt a pang of sorrow at that pitiful dead face. —Though he immediately felt disgusted with himself, knowing that his sympathy was deeply hypocritical.

"You actually survived. I'm surprised."

The one who greeted the battered Aldebaran was a man in shabby clothes—one of the gladiators of the island and the person who had found Aldebaran when he first woke up. The man’s expression was complicated, likely because it seemed utterly inexplicable that Aldebaran had survived the 'Sparca'—the initiation ritual for newcomers. From the perspective of the man who had been unluckily ordered to look after Aldebaran as his first discoverer, he might have felt that it would have been less of a hassle if Aldebaran had simply died during the 'Sparca.'

In any case, Aldebaran’s survival surprised the man, but the man wasn't the only one surprised. Aldebaran himself couldn't hide his shock at his own survival.

—He had lost a battle he wasn't allowed to lose, and had been left behind in an unknown environment.

An unfamiliar environment, strangers, and rules that were poorly explained; for Aldebaran, it was truly a frontier, as if he had been thrown into a new world. The only certainty was that he had likely lost his reason for existing, and he had probably lost the person who would have mourned that loss of value. That was why—

"You kept saying you wanted to die, but I guess it was all talk after all."

The man’s words, equal parts sarcasm and irony, carved into Aldebaran’s heart. When he realized he had survived the defeat of his first battle and the end he was supposed to face, Aldebaran had truly wanted to die from the bottom of his heart, filled with an endless sense of loss and self-reproach. For someone like him, the 'Sparca'—the test for newcomers on Gladiator Island—was convenient. The rough explanation had been incredibly unkind, but in short, it was a life-or-death trial of skill where those who couldn't become gladiators had no choice but to die.

For Aldebaran, who desperately wanted to die, it was far too convenient. In fact, when he was led into the arena with four other newcomers in the same situation and faced with the Guiltylowe, he had intended to be killed without resisting.

And yet, despite that, Aldebaran survived. While the other men were killed as they challenged, fled, or begged for their lives, Aldebaran, the last one left, was supposed to meet his end by being struck by the mabeast’s claws, trampled until his ribs snapped, and coughing up bloody foam. And yet—

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

The moment those words crossed his mind, Aldebaran had deployed his 'Domain.' Compared to the opponent he had challenged hundreds of millions of times and still couldn't defeat, the 'Sparca'—which he was able to kill in return after three hundred and four attempts—was not painful for Aldebaran. The true pain lay in the self-questioning that followed after he had survived.

—Why, how, and for what purpose did I not die?

"Hmm? You want to know about the outside? Even if you ask me, I've been here a long time..."

Having been recognized as a gladiator, Aldebaran earned the right to live on this island. Within the confines of the island, he learned that this was part of the Vollachian Empire, that the captured gladiators were forced to fight to the death for entertainment, and that public order within the island was non-existent. But there was still much he wanted to know. As a result, the one subjected to Aldebaran’s persistent questioning was his gladiator caretaker.

"I don't know much about recent affairs, but if you want to know about history... I'm not that well-versed either. Well, I know the stories of the 'Witch'... at least about the 'Witch of Envy'."

He was first surprised that the gladiator knew about the 'Witch' when he checked on a whim, and then even more shocked to find that the legends of the 'Witch'—spoken of as if even mentioning her was terrifying—now referred only to the 'Witch of Envy.'

The 'Witch of Envy,' who nearly destroyed the world and was sealed by the 'Three Heroes.' There were no other legends of 'Witches' in this world, and no records of the 'Witches of Sin' existed anywhere. Furthermore, when he was told that this had happened nearly four hundred years ago, Aldebaran fell into despair. Had the long, long passage of four hundred years erased the traces of the Witches of Sin from the world? Had the world even forgotten the existence of the 'Witch' who tried to fulfill her promise even at the cost of everything? But even more cruelly—

"—'Witch of Greed'? What’s that? Isn't that just your delusion?"

Aldebaran had no words to return to the man’s suspicion. It couldn't be a delusion. The days he spent with the 'Witch' were certainly within him; he remembered her teachings, the touch of her fingertips, and the words she spoke—all of it. In this world, there had certainly been another 'Witch' who tried to resist the 'Witch' who possessed terrifying power. —Aldebaran was her student, and he was the 'Witch’s' trump card.

"Damn it! What’s wrong with you!? I was just answering what you asked, and you suddenly start swinging at me!"

The man, punched by an enraged Aldebaran for denying the Witch’s existence, spat out the words. In this environment—no, in this new world he had been sent to—his break with his first benefactor took that form. He broke with other gladiators in similar ways, and Aldebaran became isolated.

—He heard many times that he was rumored to be a madman possessed by a Witch. It seemed his benefactor was the one proactively spreading the rumor, but in a sense, it was a correct assessment. He had no intention of correcting it.

However, it infuriated him to be lumped in with those incomprehensible people called the Witch Cult. From what he heard, they were a group that advocated for the Witch’s resurrection and committed nothing but terrorist-like atrocities everywhere. He went on another rampage for being compared to them, and his reputation worsened further.

"...A Witch-maniac like you won't die a decent death."

Those were the final words of resentment from his first benefactor, who died by Aldebaran’s heavy blade in a match arranged by the then-Governor of the Gladiator Island. Wiping away the blood of his benefactor, Aldebaran nodded deeply at the parting shot that he "wouldn't die a decent death," thinking it was likely true.

His 'Domain' remained intact, and Aldebaran continued to survive the matches on Gladiator Island. Those who called Aldebaran a Witch-maniac were all eventually matched against him and fell before his blade.

It wasn't out of spite. He didn't even want to clear the Witch’s name. In the first place, rather than being slandered, the end of the Witches was that their very existence had been erased. Therefore, Aldebaran did not seek a reason to keep living from the 'Witch.' —He simply wanted to know why he had been allowed to live.

To find that out, he couldn't afford to die. Surviving the first 'Sparca' and continuing to survive the subsequent matches was for that purpose. So, he used his 'Domain,' swallowing hundreds of deaths every time he crossed blades with someone, trampling over the lives of all the gladiators to live. To live. To keep living. And then—

"—You have done well to survive. I take my hat off to your devilish luck, which even triumphs over those superior to you."

The Governor spoke words of praise that were somewhere between exasperation and admiration for Aldebaran’s victory, having snatched even the smallest chance of winning to kill a superior opponent. Throwing away his broken blade, Aldebaran turned his back on the arena, where cheers were sparse.

—The ten years since he woke up on Gladiator Island had passed in the blink of an eye.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

Ten years was a long time, and it ruthlessly whittled away at Aldebaran’s humanity. The faces, voices, and warmth that he should have been able to recall vividly when he closed his eyes seemed to be painted over by the dead faces, death cries, and cold blood of those he had killed.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

It was correct. Those words were correct. Indeed, no one could kill Aldebaran. In those ten years, he had been sent into the 'Sparca' of Gladiator Island numerous times, crossed countless lines of death in the arena, and killed masters and inhuman beings he shouldn't have been able to match. Due to his repeated giant-killings, unreasonable matches were arranged more than once or twice in an attempt to get him killed. But because promising gladiators were killed every time, Aldebaran’s treatment was becoming a sort of "untouchable" status.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

After ten years, the faces on Gladiator Island were completely different from the beginning. Aldebaran had long since become one of the oldest veterans, and no one remained who knew the rumors of him being a madman possessed by a Witch. Since Aldebaran had learned that the topic of the 'Witch' was taboo and that most people only knew the surface of the legends, he had completely stopped bringing her up. However, this wasn't a change brought about by disappointment or resignation over not getting the answers he wanted; it was something much more serious.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

For ten years, forced to keep killing on the isolated Gladiator Island, what came to dominate Aldebaran in a space where only the exchange of lives was repeated was a great despair. A despair that made him question the very existence of the 'Witch'—did she really exist?

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

When he closed his eyes, he could certainly hear that voice. He remembered being told those words. But, was that... was that really something that happened?

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

He couldn't remember the Witch’s face. He couldn't remember the Witch’s voice. He couldn't remember the Witch’s warmth.

For ten years, his memories had worn out like a videotape he watched whenever he had free time. Even if he spliced the torn tape together, it wouldn't play, and finally, the tape itself turned to dust. When the memories themselves scattered and the dust completely slipped through the cracks of his fingers, Aldebaran no longer knew.

—Was the 'Witch' really there? —Were Aldebaran’s memories of things that actually happened?

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

Sometimes, he felt an overwhelming urge to destroy his own existence. At those times, he would deliberately release his 'Domain' and enter a match, letting himself be torn apart by an opponent attacking with their life on the line, trying to peer into the abyss of death. —No, not just peer into it; he even thought about throwing himself off the cliff.

But, only at those times, the 'Domain' would save Aldebaran in unexpected ways.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

As if to prove the words of the 'Witch' whose existence was doubtful, there were many times when an opponent who should have been one step away from killing Aldebaran suffered a mental collapse right before his eyes. Every time he saw an opponent with their eyes rolled back, having lost their sanity and will to fight, Aldebaran felt that something invisible was trying to keep him alive, and he would decapitate them with a feeling of unbearable frustration.

Even after ten years had passed, the meaning of being kept alive that Aldebaran sought remained unknown. In fact, it was even doubtful whether the one who tried to keep him alive really existed.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

It was simply terrifying. The thought that everything that formed him was a sham, that the effort and words the 'Witch' had given him never actually existed, and that Aldebaran was truly just a madman possessed by a Witch—this self-questioning eroded his heart, and sleepless days continued for years.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

The words that had been something for Aldebaran to cling to, the very basis of his identity, were now so terrifying. To continue doubting that all of this was a product of his delusions, that the mission Aldebaran carried, and the encounters and partings that should have happened, never existed at all.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

An endless spiral of self-questioning. A sensation of being submerged not just to his waist, but to his chest, in a swamp filled with negative despair that offered no answers, pinning him down. A time where only the way to die couldn't be decided would continue indefinitely. —Those stagnant days of Aldebaran’s reached a turning point one day, quite abruptly. That turning point was—

『──Listen, you rabble scattered across Gladiator Island.』

—A girl’s voice, carrying a heat as fierce as a flame, echoing throughout the island over the speaker pipes.

—A simultaneous uprising of the gladiators, and an assassination plot against the new Emperor using the response to that uprising as a diversion.

It seemed that was the reality of the turning point that had befallen Aldebaran. That said, detailed information wasn't likely to reach a mere gladiator on the island, and Aldebaran didn't care to know more. For the time being, since there was no change in the island’s management, he assumed the coup hadn't succeeded. At the very least, a change of Emperor at this point was not something in Aldebaran’s knowledge. If there was one thing he felt was a major personal change during this situation, it was clear—he had saved a silver-haired girl who was in a pinch.

Of course, that was an event unrelated to Aldebaran’s original purpose. The silver-haired girl was just a passing demi-human girl, and she had no connection to the silver-haired person Aldebaran was concerned with. However, the fact that he could save that girl, and the voice of the flame-like girl who showed an attitude of following her own path amidst the chaos, made Aldebaran make up his mind.

—To go to the outside of the closed world to confirm the existence of the 'Witch.'

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

While being killed over and over again by aquatic mabeasts released into the lake, Aldebaran finally escaped the island where he had been imprisoned for over ten years and stepped onto land that wasn't surrounded by water. —Strictly speaking, since the entire world was surrounded by the Great Cascade, one could say there was no land not surrounded by water, but he was feeling well enough to come up with such lighthearted banter.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

It was a curse, a comfort, a shackle, and a forgiveness for Aldebaran. To determine the color, the heat, and the uncertain certainty of that vaguely defined, immensely huge source of emotion, Aldebaran decided to trace the traces of the 'Witch.'

He didn't have much time. While spending over ten years on the closed island, the world Aldebaran walked was, unintentionally, becoming closer to the world he remembered. All that was left was to confirm whether the thing inside him was real. And what was needed to confirm that was proof of the 'Witch'—

"—Why is it that your existence is not recorded in the 'Gospel,' I wonder?"

So said a Sin Archbishop of the Witch Cult, tilting his head more than necessary. Aldebaran, while knowing the general reason, toyed with the metal fittings of his helmet and gave a vague response. The pitch-black iron helmet he had started wearing back then was a parting gift he had taken from Gladiator Island; he valued its sturdiness and the fact that it was a full-face type that could hide his face. It seemed that the fact that someone with such a conspicuous appearance wasn't recorded at all in his precious 'Gospel' did not please this Sin Archbishop, who was excessively loud in his voice and movements.

"—You are 'Slothful,' aren't you?"

Honestly, the battle with this Sin Archbishop was one of the most difficult struggles in Aldebaran’s life. To begin with, there were few times he could win without dying even once, but even so, he was a formidable foe whose winning chances were hard to grasp. In the end, he fulfilled the victory conditions, but he didn't exactly "win." Even compared to the Witches of Sin—who, like the 'Witch,' were of questionable existence—he felt this opponent was no less atrocious in their ferocity. At any rate—

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

Aldebaran thought he had lived up to those words, having obtained the information he wanted. —To confirm the existence of the 'Witch,' the most likely source of information was the evil cult he had frequently heard about even on Gladiator Island: the Witch Cult. He heard they were a group that was impossible to find when they were hiding, but that was only if you were trying to search for them; luring them out wasn't that difficult. —Specifically, if you spread rumors about the 'Witch of Envy' whom the Witch Cult worshipped, some would come rushing in. Of course, if you couldn't handle the one who came rushing in, you would just die the most foolish death in the world, having your life taken miserably.

"Stop it! It is sacrilege! Satella! Anyone other than Satella! Stories of 'Witches' other than the 'Witch of Envy'! It is the height of sacrilege! The only one qualified to be reborn into this world is her, the one who brings me her love!!"

He didn't know how much to believe of the statements made by a Sin Archbishop who displayed such abnormal behavior and spoke with such a loss of sanity. But that madman’s confession, even if it meant nothing to anyone else, meant something to Aldebaran.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

Patiently, he redid his encounter with the Sin Archbishop, drawing out words, exchanging necessary dialogue, letting himself be killed when the Archbishop exploded, and starting over from the beginning—repeating this relentlessly, Aldebaran obtained the information he wanted from the Sin Archbishop. Then, he bypassed the rushing Sin Archbishop, making it as if the encounter had never happened.

"Ah! Ahh! AHH! Sloth, sloth, sloth, sloth, SLOTH—!!"

He could imagine the Sin Archbishop screaming as if vomiting blood at the realization that Aldebaran had escaped the Witch Cult’s dragnet and vanished, but he no longer cared. The wish Aldebaran had at this time was one—the confirmation of the 'Witch’s' existence.

He knew how the lives of the Witches of Sin had ended. The 'Witch of Wrath' was trapped and died in madness, the 'Witch of Lust' was consumed by a great fire, the 'Witch of Gluttony' withered away in a sea of sand, the 'Witch of Pride' was submerged in deep water, and the 'Witch of Sloth' fell into the Great Cascade after slaying a dragon. And the 'Witch of Envy' was sealed at the edge of the world, and the last 'Witch' was—

"—I see. Being able to enter this place from somewhere other than the graveyard is a structural flaw. Between that and the mechanism of the 'Sanctuary,' it’s a bit sloppy. Though some parts can't be helped."

A grassland existing under a wide, unrealistic blue sky that seemed to have no end. A white table and parasol placed on a small hill where a cool breeze blew through. It was unmistakably the scene from the fading, nearly vanished memories within Aldebaran. The one at the center of it was a beautiful being who could be expressed in just two colors, black and white—

"—Why does love decrease, I wonder?"

After many twists and turns, he had finally returned to the Dream Castle. Doubting his own sanity, Aldebaran had almost believed it was a hallucination.

The 'Witch' who truly existed—no, the 'Witch of Greed'—celebrated her reunion with her student after more than ten years, which for her was a reunion after four hundred years, with a smile that lacked the warmth of blood.

"————"

For Aldebaran, his life after losing his arm was now longer than his life with both. Therefore, he rarely felt his lack of a right arm was a handicap, but even so, on very rare occasions, he did find it inconvenient. For example, when he had to carry someone who was unconscious.

"Forgive me for the bumps."

So muttered Aldebaran. In his arms—along with an artificial stone arm made with magic—he was carrying the limp and unconscious Emilia. The aerial chase between Aldebaran and Emilia that had begun in the vast canyon had ended with Emilia falling, thanks to a foul move Aldebaran had pulled.

It was nothing special. The trump card was the same one he had used to escape Emilia’s hands in the Royal Capital. The kind-hearted Emilia couldn't stand to see someone lost in battle. —She was also someone who had been deeply scarred by Priscilla’s death during the Empire’s 'Great Disaster.' Therefore, she hadn't hesitated to throw herself in the way to protect Aldebaran, who had stayed directly in the path of the falling boulder.

"Even if there was no other way to hit you for sure, it’s a scummy plan even by my standards."

Of course, Aldebaran had reached this conclusion after trial and error with other plans. He had tried adjusting the falling position of the boulder, creating a rockslide by shattering the rock, selecting the course for the barrage of projectiles, and mixing in other magic. But except for the plan where he made himself a hostage, Emilia had brilliantly broken through all of them with her spur-of-the-moment flashes and intuitive judgment. Since every other plan the foolish Aldebaran executed resulted in a future where he was frozen by Emilia’s touch, it could be said he had no choice but to rely on this desperate measure.

"Not that it makes the guilt go away, or that I'll be forgiven."

The excuse, spoken to no one in particular, was so childish that even Emilia likely wouldn't forgive him. Emilia, who had protected Aldebaran and been grazed by the mass of the boulder while defenseless, had been struck hard across her whole body and had naturally lost consciousness. As far as he could tell at a glance, there were no injuries that would leave permanent damage; it should just be a strong concussion. —He had carefully adjusted things so it would be so.

"I was forced to take quite a detour. ...Waiting for Yae isn't a good idea."

Now that the fall from the heights and the escape drama with Emilia were over, he finally had the leeway to check his surroundings. He realized that they were likely in the Agzad Valley, the world’s largest canyon, and that a massive difference in elevation had been created between them and their destination, the Mogolade Great Vent. He had already crossed the border of the Kingdom of Lugnica and entered the Kararagi City-States, but it would take a considerable amount of time to climb back up the thousands of meters they had fallen and return to the original route. And—

"Setting aside Orta, will Roy and the old man be able to regroup...?"

Among the accomplices he had been separated from, he had no concerns about 'Aldebaran’s' combat strength, but he had great concerns about Roy Alphard and Heinkel’s ability and character. Of course, Roy’s actions were bound by a curse mark, so he shouldn't break the rules if he valued his life.

"Either way, the safest bet is to expect everyone to gather at the meeting point."

Aldebaran’s top priority was arriving at the Mogolade Great Vent and achieving his goal. He needed 'Aldebaran’s' help for that goal, but in the worst-case scenario, there were ways to manage even without 'Aldebaran.' Additionally, the power of Roy’s Authority of 'Gluttony' was indispensable for dealing with the aftermath of the disaster he had utilized for this plan. So, he had to regroup with them after fulfilling his purpose and make them follow his instructions.

"Trying to prevent secondary damage while causing tertiary and quaternary damage... I'm a real piece of work."

Muttering this, Aldebaran tilted the stone wings on his back and, maintaining his speed, managed to land successfully on the banks of the great river flowing at the bottom of the canyon. —That was a lie. He had self-destructed six times while holding Emilia, and only succeeded in landing on the seventh attempt.

"It’d be a joke if I couldn't stand up here."

Once, he had lost not just both legs but everything up to his waist, and had almost become completely paralyzed, unable to even drink poison. He had managed to roll into the river and drown, but he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. At any rate—

"Sorry, Emilia... kiddo."

To ensure that the great river didn't suddenly swell and drown her, Aldebaran laid Emilia down not on the canyon floor, but in a slightly elevated hollow in the rock wall. He hesitated for a moment on what to call her in his final words before leaving her behind. He wavered, and ultimately called her what he always did as Aldebaran. —In this current, incorrect relationship between them, he didn't have the courage to use the correct way to address her.

"—"

Immediately after cursing his own cowardice, a dizzying headache shot through him, and Aldebaran gritted his teeth. The moment he began to relax after overcoming a difficult situation, his debts tried to burst forth. He managed to hold them back, and after ten seconds of deep breathing, he swallowed poison—repeating this to stabilize his mind. However, while this method allowed his heart to take a breath, it didn't allow his body—especially his brain—to do the same.

His brain had already been running non-stop for nearly a hundred hours in real time. On the way, he had been getting by with 'Aldebaran’s' healing magic, but unless he completely shut down his mind and body once, this overheating likely wouldn't subside. Still, he told himself he just had to push through a little more.

『—No one can beat the "you" that I created.』

"Yeah, that’s right, Teacher. —No one can beat me. That’s right. It’s true."

When he closed his eyes, those words resurfaced in his mind. Using them as support, Aldebaran—

『—Look at that, again.』

"————"

『Again, mine—』

"————"

『Mine—』

Fragmented, he heard a voice he couldn't quite make out. Because he knew whose it was, when it was spoken, and how much it would sear his soul, Aldebaran plugged the ears of his heart.

He wouldn't stop. He had decided. He had made his choice. He had decided that he must not stop after all. Because he had decided—

—It was immediately after Aldebaran, having plugged the ears of his heart, finally crawled out of the canyon and resumed his rush toward the Mogolade Great Vent.

"Wh—"

A raspy breath escaped Aldebaran’s mouth. It was no wonder it slipped out. After all, it was an accident that flew in from outside his awareness, an unforeseen event he had thought impossible in the depths of his mind. —A giant icicle had pierced the ground just two meters ahead of Aldebaran’s path.

"————"

Swallowing hard, Aldebaran looked back and realized that Emilia—whom he had left far below at the bottom of the canyon—had dropped this massive ice. But after that much damage, it should have taken hours for Emilia to regain consciousness, which meant she had delivered this parting shot while still unconscious.

"What terrifying tenacity..."

However, considering that if Aldebaran had come up from the cliff five seconds earlier, he would have been crushed under that icicle, he had avoided tragedy in a double sense. Of course, even if he had been hit directly, he would have used his Authority to redo it and bring about a result where he wasn't hit, but for Emilia’s sake and for his own mental health, it was better to avoid being killed by her whenever possible. Even so—

"It’s something that happens sometimes during battles, but it’s scary."

Even in the 'Sparca' of Gladiator Island, there were times during life-or-death battles when an opponent who had suffered a fatal wound would use the last of their life force to unleash a blow that could take their killer with them. In Aldebaran’s experience, there were even those who had killed him after their heads had been cut off. An action that someone had decided they would do—even if their consciousness or life was lost, the remnants of that feeling left in their limbs would try to fulfill it.

Emilia’s current parting shot was also a manifestation of her feeling that she had to stop Aldebaran no matter what—

"—Wait."

Just as he was about to praise that mental strength, Aldebaran caught his breath. Before his eyes, the icicle that had pierced the earth, narrowly missing him—it was a massive ice spear that a giant from myth might wield. But for something launched with the purpose of taking Aldebaran down, it was far too exaggerated. Something this big, it was almost like—

"—An anchor."

Right after he whispered that realization, it happened. —Using the ice spear Emilia had fired as a beacon, a new assassin was sent to intercept Aldebaran as he tried to head for the Mogolade Great Vent. That was—

"—Yo, helmet guy. You’re looking pretty beat up since I last saw you."

"...Well, that goes for both of us. And your mouth’s gotten a lot dirtier, Philore-chan."

Two people who had both overcome the first phase of the battlefield and moved on to the next. Philore Lugnica—no, Felt, leading a mixed force, stood in his way, just as they had when they hit him with the 'Memory' flash grenade.