Глава 8

Is this really what you want?!

Enough!

It's pointless to hide in your shell. Face me.

Amiya raises her head.

She speaks as if describing a simple fact.

Ch'en looks at Amiya. The girl next to her is unrecognizable from the Amiya of ten minutes ago.

Her unusual tone is surprising. It feels as though a third of it is coming from Amiya herself, another third from subtly imitating her, and the last third...

Ch'en does not know either.

The Draco pinches her lips together.

After much hesitation, she opens her mouth once again.

What sights did you see this time? Whose last words did you hear?

Cautus, only those who face imminent death like to spout such platitudes. The events of the past cannot harm me.

At the same time, she taps the hilt of her sword, lightly pulling apart the shaking air ahead of her and sending the scorching heat towards the two Infected.

Ch'en roars. Just before she moves, it occurs to her that it may be better for Amiya to deal with this.

Chi Xiao - Fleeting Night!

She turns to look at Ch'en, a smile on her face.

Um, sorry. It's something like this, right?

Blue? Black... probably cerulean. It looks good. Compared to this, Chi Xiao is a lot bloodier.

At this moment, Ch'en considers that perhaps this battle should have just gone like this.

The oxygen supply devices have all been destroyed during the battle. To fight a fire dragon while carrying an oxygen supply is nothing short of suicidal.

With a huff, Ch'en discards her extraneous equipment and laments the fact that she was far too hasty with her preparations.

Amiya, there's not much time left. She's planning to burn off all the oxygen here.

The rabbit beside her is also a veteran of many battles. This reminder should have been unnecessary, but it's enough to divert her attention.

There's only one reason to do so. Ch'en wants to draw her attention. Ch'en breathes in deeply.

She's struggling to keep calm.

Refusing to be bound by its scabbard, the temporarily restrained Chi Xiao trembles violently, as if eagerly awaiting its release, to the point of madness.

Though, it may be because her own hand is shaking.

After all these years, only now... only now does Ch'en feel the tenacity of Chi Xiao. She fears that she will lose her grip on the sword, yet she is unable to stop herself from rejoicing together with it.

Ch'en comes to a realization. Chi Xiao possesses no will of its own. Its will is the will of the wielder.

It wasn't that she was unable to draw Chi Xiao before. She just hadn't reached a point where she needed to use it.

But now, as she faces a veritable wall of flames and the villain in front of her, the person she longed for, that friend, sister, criminal, along with a sense of total despair, it all weighs down heavily on her.

The trembling gradually stops. It's time, Ch'en feels. Chi Xiao has been waiting for far too long.

And she has, as well.

Miss Ch'en, please wait. We may be able to hurt her, but even if we have the power to do so—— Killing her is meaningless.

Amiya doesn't feel as if she is the one speaking.

She feels like a sharp blade, a sharp blade bent from injustice and tragedy. Even so, Amiya feels that this blade will return to its original shape, as sharp as ever.

She feels a little like Ch'en.

That's not a bad thing. She cannot actually be Ch'en, after all.

Amiya gazes at Talulah.

Miss Ch'en, did you arrest suspects just so you could flog and humiliate them? To take away their lives?

Yet, her nameless anger is nothing like Ch'en. She feels betrayal, manipulation, isolation. She is experiencing a story that has yet to reach its end, a gloomy future that which still exists.

That is just an outcome, I believe. Besides, we don't possess that authority.

I know you'll say that just washing away her suspicions is too easy.

No, Madam Ch'en... Miss Ch'en. That's not right.

Whether or not her suspicions can be washed away must wait until this matter is resolved.

Ch'en bites down hard on her lip, drawing blood. Why does she feel joy at blood kin harming one another? She cannot answer.

She stops herself from raising Chi Xiao.

She sighs.

Exactly. That's just an outcome. I want them to be judged for their crimes. Death can come after they are sentenced.

Where does your confidence stem from?

It's not confidence, monster.

It's called responsibility.

Ch'en holds her head up high.

It's our duty.

On the other hand, Kashchey, you possess nothing.

Your body is borrowed. Your deceptions are laid bare. Your flames falter before Chi Xiao.

You chose this place as your battlefield, relying on your weapons and disguise. Staying in the core city is proof of your arrogance and folly.

You've driven yourself into a corner. You cannot escape.

Lord of Fiends... You've done well.

Yet, I remain troubled by that baseless confidence you and that young dragon continue to show.

Are you finally giving up the guise?

Who am I talking to now? Is it the changed Talulah, or a young Kashchey?

Denouncing my actions, insulting my person, continuously dragging forth memories from deep within my mind——

Did you think that you could subdue me like this? Force me to surrender?

Or did you think that I would be suppressed by the dragon-slaying sword of Yan and the filthy Arts of the Sarkaz? Free for your Arts to do with this body as you wish, to regain some semblance of 'purity'?

——That is the extent of your oratory skills.

Why do you stand against me?

Your conceit only feeds your arrogance. It only means you have that much further to fall.

However young you may be, you are still the Lord of Fiends in the end. Attempting to persuade me, convincing my inner heart, telling me there is a foreign being trying to take over this body and that I should struggle free.

Nnh...!

Frankly, aren't you unsure as well?

If memories and emotions can be falsified, does Kashchey truly exist?

What does it mean if Kashchey doesn't actually exist?

This has nothing to do with you, Kashchey.

We want to defeat you not because of what you have experienced, but because of what you have done.

We cannot allow you to continue harming others. No matter what reasons you may have, it's just as Madam Ch'en said...

We don't care.

Regardless if you are Kashchey or Talulah.

...Get the hell out of my sister's body.

...I wanted to say that, but it seems to just be an excuse for you. If you do have an excuse, save it for the judge.

Amiya, get ready. Let's go!

Have you been... mislead... by the power I'm displaying right now?

Let me repeat myself. Everyone in this city who could kill me is now dead. Besides Patriot, no one in the Chernobog core city could have done it.

FrostNova, the frosty nightmare of the tundra died at Lungmen, just as I planned.

Even if you use these two swords... you don't hold a candle to them.

I've given you the wrong impression.

If this body was not willing, I would not be able to accomplish anything.

But now, what exactly is this body of mine restraining? I do not understand.

I shall liberate it, just as I once liberated all destruction.

The Draco reaches for the longsword. Her fingers brush across the blade's edge, leaving a trail of blood painted across it.

She laughs.

Ch'en tries to speak, yet her body refuses. Something is flowing around her neck.

Amiya gestures towards her, an image appearing within her mind. Ch'en realizes that they are indeed caught within Talulah's Arts.

Should Ch'en open her mouth to speak, the heat around her mouth would rapidly increase, burrowing into her esophagus and incinerating her from within.

Amiya turns to glare at Talulah, but it's too late. The Arts have already taken effect. The Draco's voice reverberates within the roiling heat, but Amiya and Ch'en are forced to remain silent.

Ch'en feels as if her lungs are riddled with holes, her breath labored and tortured.

The Draco's Arts seem to deliberately differentiate between volitional expressions and involuntary movements. It seems to Ch'en then even Talulah cannot force her Arts to work on all concepts.

That's why Talulah chose their mouths. The red dragon simply wishes for the two to stay silent.

Ch'en grits her teeth.

The temperature is still rising. As time passes, it will inevitably reach its climax, and the two will die. After all, they cannot cut apart the blistering air that surrounds their bodies.