Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume6 Chapter7 (section)

=== Part 2 ===

“What did he say?” Nilgif groaned low, his face painted dark in the blood of his opponents.

Of course he remembered that masked swordsman. Both he and his brother had been made to suffer humiliation at his hands. As the man raised a severed head up high, he started to cross the battlefield.

Naturally, Nilgif also remembered the face of the sorcerer who had been stationed in Kadyne. He shivered at the thought that it might match that of the head the man was brandishing aloft. Nor was it just Nilgif. He could clearly see that unrest was circulating around this battlefield where friend and foe were jumbled together, communicating itself to both sides alike.

At the same moment, the allied air carrier which had been navigating shakily seemed to recover itself and stabilised its flight, then lowered its hull behind Nilgif and the others. From inside, five hundred soldiers of Taúlia’s Sixth Army Corps, led by Natokk, were let loose like a pack of wild dogs. Garda’s army found itself attacked from front and back.

“Blue Dragon!”

Hearing a voice call out to him, Nilgif had the impression that it was his brother scolding him. It was probably because he sensed genuine anger in that voice that his heart was overwhelmed.

“Gather your troops and go to Ax Bazgan. If you go over, Garda’s army should lend him their support bit by bit.”

“Wh-What are you…”

To Nilgif’s surprise, even as the masked swordsman said that, he galloped his horse straight towards him and raised his sword overhead. He was barely able to parry with his spear. As their weapons clashed a second then a third time, the swordsman brought his horse ever closer.

“I was in Kadyne,” his voice was almost a whisper. Nilgif stared at him wide-eyed. “Garda’s bombing raid killed many. But even so, many of the people are still alive. Believing that we, and you, the warriors of Kadyne, will bring victory, they remain there and live on.”

What further words could be needed? Nilgif’s bearded face was once more wet with tears. Those tears were unexpectedly warm.

“Where is Garda? In the ruins of the temple at Zer Illias?”

“N-No,” for some reason, Nilgif didn’t find it strange to answer as sword and spear collided between their respective armour. “For now, he’s in Eimen. Should be in the tower’s underground.”

“Then that’s convenient.”

“Wh-What’s convenient?”

Beneath his mask, the swordsman grinned and Nilgif felt shaken to the core.

“If I kill him here, it’s all over for them. Not even Garda can harm the hostages in Zer Illias once he’s dead.”

So saying, the swordsman kicked his horse’s flanks and, without the slightest vigilance against Nilgif, started to race away. He didn’t pay the any attention even when he was shouted at to “Wa-Wait!” Although Nilgif was dumbfounded, he called out once more as there was one thing he had to know.

“Your name. You, what’s your name?”

“Orba.”

That was all the answer he gave.

After that, he simply went onwards and ran and ran and ran. The severed head of the sorcerer was like a talisman that protected Orba from blades and the soldiers of Garda’s army didn’t go near him. No, at least half of them could no longer be called “Garda’s army”.

More than five hundred soldiers led by Bisham rushed to Ax’s side without a moment’s delay. They strengthened his defence and as Natokk’s force was also bearing down from behind, Garda’s soldiers were no longer able to focus solely on attack as they had a short while earlier. The sand-laden wind coiled around the battlefield like smoke, giving it a strangely stagnant appearance.

That stagnation was enough for Orba. With only a few mercenaries, he raced straight towards Eimen. There was no sign of enemies about to catch up with them. And even when some did try, they did so hesitatingly and only to be pushed back by Shique’s double swords or Gilliam’s battle-axe.

''Is that it?'' On the other side of the outer walls, a tower soared into the heavens. The sky was dull and cloudy but Orba could see darker clouds that seemed to swirl around its top.

Having crossed Eimen’s gates, Orba and the others rushed headlong to the tower at the centre. There was not a shadow of the townspeople to be seen. A dry wind blew through the streets.

They jumped from their horses once they were just by the tower but before its door hovered a silent shadow. As they wondered what it was, the shadow formed one-by-one into black-clad soldiers who drew the swords from at their waist.

“Move from there,” Gilliam almost growled, his battle-axe on his shoulder. “If we defeat Garda, he won’t be able to threaten you anymore and your families won’t be in danger anymore. Now move!”

But as though they had no ears to hear with, the soldiers in black simply attacked. Let alone ears, they showed no evidence of having mouths to shout with or even minds of their own to think with.

“Looks like it’s useless,” said Stan. Because of the effects of ether, his complexion was still bad and he was swaying at the waist, but he still pulled out his sword. “They have a strange “colour”. This bunch probably aren’t being threatened. They might be Garda’s personal guards.”

“Then we don’t need to worry, huh.” No sooner had he spoken than Gilliam was the first to throw himself into the fray. As his battle-axe collided with the swords, the silent town was suddenly filled with the sounds of fighting.

The enemy was unquestionably skilled. Since Stan wasn’t in his normal condition, even Talcott who usually preferred to stay safely behind him had no choice but to step forward and wield his sword. While hurling abuse, he showed off his lightning-fast swordplay.

Only Orba seemed to take up a position from which he could watch the struggle but, so smoothly and quietly that his feet didn’t seem to be moving, he swiftly made his way past their backs and sides. Alone, he dived into the tower.

To deal with Garda, every second was precious. No matter how superior their position might be, the terror of sorcery permeated the body. So until he had snatched that life away with his own hands, he couldn’t afford to be careless.

He felt dark killing intent draw up to him from behind but the one who thrust it away from the side was Gilliam.

“This is your chance, Capt'n. Go and seize greater glory than anyone in the west.”

“I’m grateful.”

Leaving those brief words behind, Orba’s figure disappeared into the tower.

Gilliam jumped nimbly to put some distance between himself and the swords that were bearing down on him from front and back.

“Grateful, you say?” He shook his mane-like hair and beard and laughed. Swinging his axe in large, sweeping movements, he added, “It’s just like Lasvius once said. He really does speak like nobility.”



The spear struck vigorously. Lima Kadhein’s eyes opened wide and she went rigid as she stopped breathing.

Right next to where her soft hair swayed, the spearhead had embedded itself entirely and cracks were running in all directions along the stone wall.

Lima’s brown face paled, her eyes trembled and soon, large teardrops started to spill from them.

“Ngh,” Garda groaned.

Needless to say, the role of the maidens he had stolen away was to provide ether for as long as they lived. Yet it was clear that the blow from the spear had allowed Lima to regain her heart and consciousness. That was because a part of the ether supply system had been destroyed.

Moldorf knew nothing of sorcery but, with the intuition almost of a wild animal, he had aimed at what was causing unease to his five senses.

He then immediately pulled the sword from at his waist and rushed at Garda. It would not take him a second to reach a position from which his blade could send that head flying. The sorcerer’s face, which was like that of an unremarkable elderly man, showed anxiety.

But –

“Idiot.”

The sword was repelled by an invisible shield and Moldorf’s large body went staggering backwards. Garda’s arms that were like dead trees, both stretched out towards him. Underneath his hood, his entire face glistened with sweat.

“For a mere human, your judgment was sound. My compliments. But, after all, this is as far as you go. Do you think I, Garda, am so powerless that I could be taken down by you alone?”

Garda had absorbed the ether swirling about in the hall a number of times already. Unable to let out his voice anymore, Moldorf reeled even more violently. It felt as though the air in the chamber had transformed into dozens of arms that were strangling his neck with superhuman strength.

The sword fell from his hand. Large veins stood out at his temples and his face was stained a deep red. But suddenly, it went pale. Froth dribbled from his lips and his countenance had a faint look of death.

“Moldorf!”

At that moment, a shadow ran towards Garda, aiming at his back. Completely focused on Moldorf, the sorcerer had let himself be approached surprisingly easily.

The glimmer of steel drew close. The tip of the blade sank in.

If that person had been a master swordsman, or not even, if it had been a grown man of normal strength, Garda’s life would probably have been cut short right then. But his opponent was Lima Khadein. She had picked up Moldorf’s sword, yes, but the weapon was too heavy for the princess’ arms and she was only able to tear a piece of skin from Garda’s back before stumbling to the ground.

“You!” At the searing pain in his back, Garda savagely turned around, his eyebrows contorted with hatred. Moldorf’s powerful frame fell like a stone. “You accursed Kadynians plague me one after another. Enough, I’ll kill you now for good.”

Garda made his bracelet gleam then suddenly raised a finger. The sword which had fallen to the floor seemed to squirm by itself then soared lightly up into the air. It rose higher while turning its tip around then stopped abruptly. Its point was aimed straight at Lima’s back where she had tumbled down.

Then it immediately cut through the air.

The rapidly accelerating sword had no less force than the spear that Moldorf had thrown earlier and it should have easily impaled Lima’s body.

But just as it was about to do so, the gleam from another blade shone.

Sword and sword clashed in mid-air then clattered to the ground as sparks scattered.

“What!” Garda turned his eyes wildly to the hall’s only entrance.

A shadow raced like a tempest. Faster than his eyes could follow, it rolled forward and picked up one of the swords that had fallen to the floor then without pausing ran to drive it into Garda’s breast.

“Gah!” Garda instantly invoked new magic. The fallen sword once again came to life and thrust itself between him and the shadowy figure.

The shadow suddenly stopped moving. But the hostility blazing in its eyes on the other side of the interposed sword could clearly be felt. A sharp glare pierced the sorcerer from behind the mask.

Garda now stood in Orba’s sight. The sorcerer who had claimed a name that had terrified Zerdians since two hundred years ago, who had taken the lead of a large army to invade the west and who had offered countless lives as sacrifices. He looked like nothing more than an ordinary old man and moreover, unexpectedly did not seem to be Zerdian. Something like a fragment of a jewel was buried in his forehead and glittered before Orba’s eyes.

“You are…” started Orba.

“You’re…” Garda said venomously at the same time. He recognised him as the self-same swordsman that he had seen earlier in his bracelet.

The sword between them again floated in the air, glittering. Orba swept it aside and was about to step towards Garda but he jumped back as lightly as though wings had grown from his feet.

“You’re not Zerdian. Do you think that a brat like you could defeat Garda?”
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v06 287.jpg|thumb]]
“You’ve pointed a sword at me, think about what you can do next, sorcerer.”

“Ha. You seem confident in your own skill. Certainly, that you were able to track me down here means that after Moldorf, I now need to praise you.”

“The sorcerer in Kadyne said the same thing. And immediately after lost his life.”

“You’re conceited merely from having destroyed my pathway. I had already accomplished my goal in Kadyne. Thanks to that pathway, Zer Illias will be awash with ether.” Garda laughed arrogantly, displaying his slightly yellowing teeth. “Besides, there will be plenty more ether to be had on this battlefield. And I also have Esmena Bazgan here.”

Just as Garda indicated, there was the figure of a girl whom Orba knew by sight in the hall. He was naturally unable to prevent his surprise but he did not make the mistake of letting his agitation show in the middle of a fight.

“You were a step too slow, Boy. If you had arrived just a little sooner, you might have been able to beat me.”

“Shut up.”

As Orba was about to cut down the distance between them, Garda raised both hands. Black smoke poured out of the bracelets he wore on either arm. Orba was resolved not to stop advancing no matter what happened. That was because he was afraid of being bewitched by the sorcerer but, faster than Orba could predict, in front of his eyes – or no, everything he had been able to see was suddenly shut away in darkness.

“What!”

The sword he had jabbed forward tore through shadows. About to pitch over, he was just barely able to stiffly brace himself. He could only halt his movements and ready his sword once more.

In all directions: darkness.

He couldn’t even see his own hands and feet, nor the gleam of the steel whose weight was in his hand.

Orba took a single deep breath. Then he held it and, like a wild beast, let his five senses work at full throttle to try and detect any sign of the enemy by scent or from the flow of air.

He did not know how long he remained there quietly but at a time when his eyes would have adjusted had it been a normal darkness, a red light suddenly shone to Orba’s side.

Quickly raising his sword, he turned to face it while shielding his eyes. The colour of flames was flickering up there. By the time he felt the heat against his skin, a wall of fire had risen to above his height all around him.

''Is it an illusion or…''

He couldn’t make a wrong move. Were these flames supposed to burn Orba to nothing or would his blind spot be attacked while his attention was focused on them?

Just then, he noticed that the air was flickering behind him.

''There?''

Without saying a word, balanced on the tip of his toes, Orba rotated his body at the same time as he swung his sword in a wide motion. The tip suddenly went still. Behind the mask, his eyes wavered. The one who stood there was not the abhorrent sorcerer. Nor was it a swordsman dressed and armed all in black.

“Orba,” said the man.

“Brother.” As his own voice burst out, Orba felt dizzy. How many years had it been since he had called out that word?

The one before him was without doubt his brother Roan.

But his brother’s face was pale and the hand stretched out towards him was wet with blood. Unwittingly, Orba stepped back. Alice was also beside Roan. Her clothes emitted a pale, flickering light. The scene of the village being set ablaze vividly resurged in Orba’s mind.

And behind the two of them was the unmistakable figure of his mother. Of his mother who had somehow lost her spark and whose eyes had grown dim after Roan had left for Apta.

''No''. This wasn’t real. But even though he knew that, Orba couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. They were the people he had never stopped searching for. The people he had already lost. Every time they took a step closer to him, the colour returned to their faces, their clouded eyes grew brighter and they smiled at Orba with the same appearances they had had when they were alive.

“Orba, Orba. What’s wrong?” Roan’s expression was one of gently chiding his rowdy little brother.

“Really, what’s with the mask?” Alice giggled. “You’re playing at heroes again, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be going back home soon to give your mother a hand?”

“That’s right.” His mother – like she always did whenever she saw that Orba had been in a fight – gave a smile that was half exasperated, half resigned. “I won’t tell you to be more like Roan. But you can’t stay a child forever. Honestly, you get more and more like your reckless father every year.”

''Stop''.

He was supposed to have said that out loud. He had meant to shout it at the top of his lungs. But his lips were trembling and much less speak, he couldn’t even move a single step away from there, letting the ghosts draw near him.

Roan extended his hand and was about to touch his shoulder. In that instant, a feeling of inexplicable disgust surged throughout his entire body.

“Stop!”

He shook away the hand and leapt two or three steps back. He raised the tip of his sword and put himself on guard.
“What is it, Orba?”

But without his having noticed it, Roan’s figure no longer stood before him but was by his right arm and had seized hold of his hand that was grasping the sword.

“That’s right, didn’t I tell you you’ve played enough?” Alice was at his left. She held his arm immobile with surprising strength and laughed softly in his ear. “Or perhaps…”

“Do you want to kill us?”

His mother approached from in front. Her lips slowly curled upwards, forming into a ghastly smile, tearing up higher and higher. And from that mouth a different face emerged, slimy with blood.

“Yeah, are you going to kill? Like you did us?”

At some point, the number of people around Orba had increased. The faces dripping with blood were those of all the gladiators that he had cut down and of all those he fought on the battlefield.

Flames crackled behind him. They always seemed to decorate his fights.

And there was one more –

This time, Orba almost screamed. Breaking away from among the ghosts, walking unsteadily towards him, was Oubary Bilan.