The name of the Dagger Arts Level 5 Battle Art has been changed.
“Aria…? Why are you here? No… where is this place?”
“Calm down, Camille. It seems we’ve been summoned by the Dungeon’s spirit.”
Camille kept his hand on his weapon, remaining vigilant for any sign of enemies. I called out to him, maintaining a distance of several steps.
Even if this was an abnormal space, I didn’t think this Camille was an imposter. A spirit could do anything, but the spirit here didn’t seem like the type to play such pranks.
Seeing Camille for the first time in days, his cloak and leather armor were caked with dried blood, and the air of laxness he once had was gone. The battles in this Dungeon must have forced him to grow, whether he liked it or not.
“A space where a spirit resides…? Then, is there a spirit here?”
“There was. But its presence vanished just as you appeared. …Perhaps it’s watching us from somewhere, or maybe it’s granting ‘someone’s’ wish.”
The spirit here seemed relatively sensible, but its standards were still different from humans, so there was no telling how a wish might be distorted.
“…A wish, huh.”
Camille muttered, as if repeating my words, and stared intently at his own hands, caked with dried blood.
“…When we were heading deeper into the Dungeon, a magic circle suddenly appeared beneath our feet, and we were teleported somewhere. It was a large room with something like an Altar, and the moment I confirmed someone else was there besides me, I heard ‘Father’s’ voice…”
Camille’s father… so it was that man I met.
After he spoke with me, it looked like he was teleported somewhere too… Is the flow of time distorted? Even if we were summoned at roughly the same time, perhaps time flows differently here than outside. …I shouldn’t stay too long.
“Father’s voice, echoing directly in my head, said just one thing… ‘I’ve decided not to die.’ Hey, that’s a joke, right? Because that man tried to die, the extremists started acting on their own, started a war, and thousands of people died…”
“That’s true.”
What he did was not something a person in the position of a king should do.
Telling someone not to let their emotions dictate their actions when a loved one has died is asking the impossible, but I learned from Elena-sama that a true “King” is someone who can compartmentalize such things.
“Even so, those who tried to start the war will likely do the same thing somewhere else unless their resentment is dispelled. Camille’s father didn’t just have a change of heart on a whim either.”
When I said that, Camille twisted his lips as if he’d bitten into something bitter.
“Yeah… I knew. No, I was made to realize… it. That ‘wish’ was in my heart… and not just in Kadri or Izel, but also in Charleschan, Dowhill, and the other Dark Elves chosen as warriors. Everyone, in a corner of their hearts, wished for Father to live…”
Aside from war hawks like Elgrim and Aisha, those who thought about their comrades and the Evil Race had hoped somewhere in their hearts that the Evil Lord would lead them again.
It seemed to me that Dowhill and Charleschan participated in the Ceremony of Selection not because they actively wanted to start a war, but as a result of seeking a way for their clans to survive.
I still couldn’t understand why I was needed for that “wish,” but perhaps a “drastic remedy” was required—to fight poison with poison.
“So, what do you intend to do, Camille?”
Realizing the meaning of my question, Camille, who had been looking down, raised his head.
Camille participated in the Ceremony of Selection not because he wanted to become king, but to survive.
Even if the Evil Lord returns, there would still be those who harbor resentment towards humans, and those who don’t think well of Camille’s existence. But the situation was no longer so desperate that he’d have to hide in other countries and keep running like before.
Camille could become an adventurer in the Calfaan Empire or anywhere else where prejudice against Dark Elves was minimal. If he wanted a job, Ron-san should be able to arrange a status for him.
Camille was free now.
“…I never thought I could become king. I didn’t think I could lead the Evil Race, which includes those who killed my mother. But in this battle, by learning the depth of the Evil Race’s resentment, I feel like I’ve come to understand them a little.”
Saying so, Camille looked up as if gazing into the distance.
“There are reasons for resentment. But it wasn’t just resentment; there were also people desperately struggling to live. Everyone was just desperate. They were the same as us. That’s why I… I’ll return to the Evil Race Nation. I’ll help Father with his work, and like I discussed with Ron-san before, I’ll try to find a way for the Evil Race and humans to coexist.”
“I see.”
That also seemed like a thorny path, but if he had decided so, I had nothing to say.
“Aria…”
But Camille didn’t take his eyes off me, looking at me with a direct gaze as he called my name.
“Won’t you… come with me?”
“…………”
As I silently pondered the meaning of his words, Camille, as if unable to bear my gaze, opened his mouth.
“…You can think of me as a pathetic man. I’ve resolved to live as a prince of the Evil Race. But, at the same time, I realized that I need you. I—you—!”
“I’m returning to Elena-sama’s side.”
My low murmur stopped Camille’s words.
I had decided to protect Elena-sama. I would return to her. Return to my master’s home.
It wasn’t that I misunderstood the meaning of Camille’s words. I knew such emotions existed, even from That Woman’s “knowledge.”
But even without considering that, I would not walk alongside Camille.
“I… see.”
Camille closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, as if he had swallowed a lump of iron. When he opened them, his eyes held a strong light, different from before.
“Aria… fight me.”
“Fight you?”
Unsure of the meaning of his words, I asked. Camille then drew not his Demon Sword daggers, but a spare dagger.
“This will only add to my shame, but I need this. But… if I win against you, I’ll take you back with me, no matter what you say.”
“…………”
I couldn’t understand that emotion, but I could understand the desire to draw a line, to settle things.
I have my own “wish.” A desire I want to fulfill with my own power, not by wishing to a spirit.
There was no reason for me to accept the challenge. But… his determination to take me back, his challenge, I found it a little bit… appealing.
“Then, come at me seriously.”
“Aria…”
Drawing my Black Knife and Black Dagger, I released my “force” from my entire body. I don’t know what Camille saw in me, but he gasped, sheathed his spare dagger, and drew his two Demon Swords.
“…If I draw these, I can’t hold back.”
“Don’t worry.”
I’d heard his Demon Swords sealed a Level 5 Battle Art. If he unleashed that seriously, there was a chance I could die.
I pushed my emotions deep down inside and took a step forward.
“Because I’ll be serious (・・) too.”
“Hh!”
We stood about ten paces apart, facing each other with weapons drawn, like something out of a Western I’d seen through That Woman’s “knowledge.”
The sweetness and weakness Camille once had were gone, replaced by an unprecedentedly strong fighting spirit. With that, he should be able to wield even a borrowed Battle Art to its full potential.
We slowly closed the distance, inching forward on the balls of our feet. The Intimidation we both exuded filled the air. The moment I narrowed my eyes slightly and a bead of sweat trickling down Camille’s cheek dripped from his chin, we kicked off the ground simultaneously.
“—[Release]—”
“—[Iron Rose]—”
His pinkish-gold hair transformed into a searing iron-gray, particles of light scattering like silver wings, and a strong magical light erupted from the two Demon Swords Camille held.
“—[Dancing Reaper]—!!”
The Dagger Arts Level 5 [Battle Art], a furious eight-strike combo, unleashed from both left and right, bore down on me.
There was no way to dodge eight inescapable slashes by normal means. It was the same with other Battle Arts; to withstand a Battle Art, you had to overwhelm it with even greater power.
Clang!!
“—Hh!”
Camille’s eyes widened as I deflected the first strike with my dagger.
Even using Iron Rose, it’s difficult to see [Dancing Reaper] and then dodge or block it. So, instead of blocking, I read its trajectory solely through the sensation on my skin, rather than by sight, and counter-attacked at maximum speed.
“A-Re (Faster)!”
My accelerated slashes clashed with Camille’s, as if I were the one on the offensive.
If Camille had aimed for a mutual kill, some of those slashes would have pierced both our bodies. But this wasn’t a fight to the death; it was a battle between warriors, pride on the line.
The speed of our exchange increased, and Camille met my slashes with his own. He should have unleashed a surefire Battle Art, yet he found himself being attacked by me instead. Without retreating, Camille pressed forward.
“Uwooooooooooooh!!”
Camille roared, and his barrage of attacks wore down my mind as I continued to read their trajectories. But Camille was being worn down just as much.
Instead of finishing his Battle Art in a single strike, Camille pressed on with a chain of attacks, and blood spray began to fly from his arm.
So you choose your pride over your wounds, Camille?
“Haaah!!”
Channeling my fighting spirit into a shout, I unleashed strikes from both left and right with all my might, parrying the Demon Sword of Camille, who continued to use his Battle Arts with his blood-soaked arm.
While still pinning down the Demon Sword, I took a step forward. From point-blank range, so close our bodies were practically brushing, I slammed a full-force headbutt between his eyes.
CRACK!!
“Guaah!”
Recoiling from the impact, Camille toppled onto his back. I planted my foot on his chest and pointed the tip of the Black Dagger at him.
“Are you convinced now?”
“…Yeah.”
The outcome was settled. I sheathed my dagger and, with the hand I extended to him once more, helped Camille to his feet. His face, though still looking frustrated, seemed a little brighter.
If he could accept it, then that was fine. That’s what this match had been for.
Besides… it wasn’t really my place to say, but if he just calmed down, he’d probably notice. He’d realize that the way Izel—a girl who, like Camille, is a half-elf of Dark Elf and human descent—looks at him is a little different from the gaze she directs at her master.
With this, the spirit must have finished whatever it summoned me for. A distortion formed in space, and Camille’s figure vanished from this place.
A distortion appeared beneath my own feet as well, and just as I thought I was about to be transported to where Camille and the others were, the spirit’s voice suddenly resounded.
“There is one who interferes with this place.”
The white, mist-enshrouded scenery before me changed, and a night sky with a tilted moon leaped into my field of vision.
Where am I? This isn’t the Dungeon’s lowest floor, is it? The spirit said that someone had interfered with that space. Could there truly be someone capable of doing such a thing to the space inhabited by a spirit, a supernatural being…?
A cool breeze caressed my cheek. As I looked around, wondering where this place was where I could otherwise see nothing but a stone floor, a cheerful girl’s voice called out from behind me.
“Welcome to the Dungeon’s ‘Innermost Sanctum,’ Aria.”
Aria-san, she had made such a clean break.
And the true identity of the girl who was in the Innermost Sanctum is…! (Heh, just playing dumb.)