TABLE OF CONTENTS
THREE & NINE:
A TRAILS TALE
Chapter 1 - The Butler & The Lady
04
Chapter 2 - Three & Nine
15
Chapter 3 - The Assassins & The Target 25
Chapter 4 - Three of Swords
38
Chapter 5 - The Overseer & The Report
50
Chapter 6 - Nine of Swords
64
Chapter 7 - Tears & Promises
76
Chapter 8 - Gravity & Artifacts
84
Chapter 9 - Anger & Analysis
95
Chapter 10 - S & N
107
THREE & NINE: A TRAILS TALE
A
single passenger ship of prodigious size lay anchored in a
port town in the northeast of the Principality of Remiferia.
Extravagantly crafted from top to bottom, a single glance was enough
to discern its intended clientele—the privileged few among society’s
upper crust. True to appearances, the passengers boarding the vessel
that day most certainly fit the bill, each smartly dressed and adorned
with conspicuous opulence.
Even among such guests, however, two stood out: a young lady
possessed of regal air and the butler at her side. Judging from their
dress, behavior, and linguistic register, they suited the setting to a primand-proper T. The single factor that set them apart from the other guests
was their ages. Neither looked to be much older than twelve or perhaps
thirteen years old, making them mere children in the eyes of most.
“J-Just one moment, my lady.”
The young butler labored to keep pace with the young lady as he
dragged a large suitcase behind him. Despite this, she continued to stride
forward, not slowing her pace in the slightest. Exhaustion creased his
weary brow.
His attire was proper, as befitting his station, but his unkempt hair—
grown out long enough to completely obscure his eyes—was another
story. On top of that, everything about his demeanor screamed that he
was timid and weak of spirit.
“Snap to it, you dullard!” the young lady brusquely shouted, now
several paces ahead of the struggling boy, “If you can’t make those legs
move any faster, I’ll cut them off and feed them to the hounds!”
She continued to increase her pace while assailing her butler with
an unending string of contemptuous words. Her arrogant, haughty
demeanor stood in stark contrast to her graceful appearance. Dressed in
a lovely, black-frilled dress, her blue eyes shone like a pair of sparkling
sapphirls, and her twin pigtails curled slightly in perfect arcs. Most eyecatching of all, however, was the 50-rege stuffed bear she held close to
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her chest. Though it was large enough to draw attention, it didn’t look
out of place in the arms of a girl such as her.
“Ah! Please, my lady! Forgive me!”
In response to the girl’s tirade, the boy miserably sputtered excuses and
breathlessly pled for leniency as he summoned his remaining strength
to pick up his pace.
After a not-insubstantial trip, the two finally arrived at the ship’s
boarding gate.
“May I please see your invitation and boarding passes?” the crew
member working the gate asked, smiling politely.
Up close, the ship was even more opulent. A prized possession of the
Verne Company, its main route was between Remiferia and the Calvard
Republic via Lamelyn Bay. For this particular trip, the entire ship had
been reserved by one Halldor Baarn, a wealthy merchant from Calvard.
Passengers hoping to board required both a standard boarding pass as
well as an explicit invitation from Mr. Baarn himself. However, as each
invitation included the room information for the guest in question, the
boarding pass was strictly a formality.
“Gray.” The girl called the boy by name and gestured with her hand,
implicitly ordering him to present their credentials.
“Yes, my lady? What do you require of me?” the boy asked, having
completely failed to grasp his employer’s unspoken instructions.
“You cannot possibly be this dense, you stupid worm!” she snapped.
“Oh! I am so sorry, my lady! I beg your forgiveness!”
Cowering before the young lady’s vicious glare, the boy stuttered and
stammered a thousand apologies.
“Silence! The invitation and the boarding pass! NOW!”
“R-Right away, my lady!”
The boy began busily rustling through the contents of the suitcase,
frantically searching for the requisite papers. Yet his haste quickly
proved to be his downfall, for no sooner had he located the pass than a
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sudden gust of wind blew past, tearing the paper from his hand.
“Oh, no!” he exclaimed.
The boy instinctively threw his arms out, stretching them to their
physical limit, but his efforts were in vain. The boarding pass fluttered
down to the bottom of the harbor, coming to rest gently on the water’s
surface.
As though that wasn’t bad enough, misfortune continued to hound the
boy as a number of silhouettes swiftly appeared beneath the waterlogged
document. A school of fish jumped into the air with a splash, spraying
water all about. They then descended back into the harbor’s depths,
taking the hapless butler’s boarding pass along with them.
“AAAH! NOOO!”
The boy’s grief-stricken cry resonated throughout the harbor.
Trembling with fear, he turned to face his master, prepared for an
eruption of anger followed by a vicious tirade of abuse.
Yet it did not immediately come. The girl simply stood there in silence.
She stared long and hard at the boy, her face betraying no expression
whatsoever. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
This was the calm before the storm. The boy began spitting out
apologies, tripping over his words as his voice grew weaker by the
second, like a short-circuited radio warbling its death knell. His body
seemed to shrink and his shoulders slumped like a criminal awaiting
judgment.
“You’re...ABSOLUTELY USELESS!”
The girl’s anger finally burst forth in one violent blast. Despite the
ferocity of her exclamation, she managed to save enough breath to
launch a sharp kick at the boy in the same moment. The well-aimed
strike sent the boy flying farther than her petite frame would suggest
was possible. He seemed to hang in the air for a brief moment before
resuming his journey downward off the edge of the pier, reaching a frigid
end as he broke through the water’s surface with a splash.
As soon as he returned to his senses, he began violently thrashing his
arms about, pleading for aid between coughing up mouthfuls of cold
water.
“M-My lady! Please help me!” he begged, his thrashing growing more
desperate and frantic.
“You’re going to find that pass. And I mean NOW. You’re not leaving
that water until I see it in your hands.”
“But I...I can’t...swim...” he burbled as his head began to slowly sink
beneath the surface.
“I’m well aware.”
“P-Please, my...la...”
His words were cut short as his lungs filled with water and the rest
of his head bobbed below the surface. His thrashing ceased and his
silhouette grew faint as he quickly plummeted downward to the bottom
of the bay.
With the situation having reached an unacceptable level of risk, several
onlooking crew members ran over to rescue the waterlogged butler. The
moment the boy made it out of the bay, however, the still-enraged girl
tried to kick him right back in again.
“M-Miss, please! You must calm down!” the crew member at the gate
said, trying to pacify the young noble.
“How?! How can I be calm about this?! My father was unable to attend,
so I am here in his place. There are important business discussions taking
place on this ship that I CANNOT afford to miss! And now, thanks to
a certain someone’s rank incompetence, that is exactly what is going
to happen!”
The girl gave the boy a menacing glare so virulent, it could have
stripped the paint from the entire vessel.
“Tell me, worm. How exactly are you going to take responsibility for
me being unable to board?!”
Though the boy was still coughing and violently spewing water,
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his already pallid face managed to lose what little color remained in it
upon hearing those words. Feeling pity for the boy, the gate attendant
stepped in.
“Well, for the time being, may I see your invitation instead?”
The boy moved to comply with this request, but was stopped dead
in his tracks by the girl’s menacing scowl. She produced the invitation
herself, and roughly shoved it at the attendant.
The attendant read over the paper, then went through the list of names
on the guest list.
“This invitation is for Baron Kris Reinhardt, who I can confirm is,
indeed, on the guest list. Might I presume you two are his daughter and
her attendant?”
“You presume correctly. I am Baron Reinhardt’s eldest daughter, Celia
Reinhardt.”
The gate attendant made a respectful bow before continuing to speak.
“Then there will be no need to further concern yourself with the matter
of the boarding pass, Ms. Reinhardt. You may proceed.”
“Oh? We may?”
Strictly speaking, a decision of this nature required approval from a
higher-ranking employee, but in this case, the gate attendant decided
that swift action was the best way to provide a peaceful solution to the
rapidly worsening situation at hand.
“It seems as though you’ll live to writhe another day, you useless
worm. Count yourself lucky.”
The girl boarded the ship, still staring icy daggers at her butler. He
dragged their luggage on after her, still wheezing and dripping wet from
the events of the past few minutes. He effusively expressed his gratitude
to the gate attendant as he passed, receiving a sympathetic smile and a
few words of encouragement.
Having finally boarded the ship, the two youths immediately headed
for their room. Their pace was quick, as though they already knew the
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way, and not a single word was exchanged between them as they briskly
walked down the halls.
Once they arrived, they gave the room a quick, yet thorough search.
“Infiltration complete.”
The girl broke their silence, suddenly speaking in a sleepy drawl. Her
eyelids drooped and she let out a mighty yawn, not a trace remaining
of the tense, high-handed young lady from only a few moments ago.
“I’m beat, S. Think I’m gonna take a nap.”
She tossed her plush bear onto the bed and immediately launched
herself after it. She dove under the covers with childlike exuberance
befitting someone her age—perhaps even younger. In contrast to her
whimsical new demeanor, the boy remained completely expressionless.
“Don’t let your guard down. The real mission begins now.”
His voice was alarmingly calm and terse. As he brushed aside his
bangs, still wet from the frigid water of the harbor, his now-visible eyes
were cold and sharp. Beneath that, however, was the gleam of a hunter
fixed on its prey. Each and every rege of his body exuded composure.
The flustered, stammering butler from before was nothing but a memory.
Though the girl’s transformation was strange, the boy’s sudden shift in
personality was nothing short of jarring.
“That wasn’t really your best work out there, S. Far from it.”
She spoke nonchalantly, rolling around the bed as she critiqued the
boy’s performance. He remained silent for a moment before speaking,
almost as though he agreed with her assessment, at least in part.
“It didn’t affect the mission.”
“But you overdid each and every reaction. It’s not easy to match that
without seeming unnatural, you know? You hamming it up like that
made us stand out more than we needed to.”
Despite her words, the girl’s halfhearted tone took the bite out of her
criticisms.
These were the duo’s true personalities. The upper-class young lady
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and her bumbling butler making a spectacle at the boarding gate were
simply elaborate pageantries—acts necessary for gaining entry to the
ship and nothing more. Any other method of infiltration might have
raised suspicion, endangering their mission. Thus, they chose to board
under false identities.
They had made clever use of the organization’s info network
beforehand, ascertaining which of the invitees would be unable to attend.
Armed with this bit of intel, they created their personas. The invitations
required for boarding were printed on high-quality paper, but ultimately
differed only in name. Using the same layout for each invitation was the
logical choice for a merchant looking to pinch mira wherever possible.
Logical or not, that particular decision had made the necessary forgery
a walk in the park.
The boarding pass, on the other hand, was a different story. The Verne
Company was known to employ cutting-edge technology to prevent
forgeries. Attempting to use a fake pass to board was an act accompanied
by a considerable amount of risk. This is why the two engineered the
dramatic performance that took place at the boarding gate. The boy
dropping their boarding pass was, of course, an intentional act. Both the
gust of wind and timely group of fish were the result of a battle orbment
the girl had kept hidden in her stuffed bear—a clever method she had
used many times in the past to cast arts unnoticed.
All of their hard work had paid off—the infiltration had gone exactly
as planned. It was yet another successful operation for the boy, known
as Three of Swords, and the girl, known as Nine of Swords, in their life
as professional assassins.
To Be Continued
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A
t its scheduled time, the ship departed. As he watched the
shoreline shrink into the distance, Three of Swords spoke in a
cold, flat voice.
“Target presence confirmed. Have we pinpointed enemy positioning?
Is our route prepared?”
“Yep. We’re good to go.”
The young girl known as Nine of Swords stood behind the boy,
answering in a relaxed drawl—the polar opposite of her partner’s icy
tone. Having been dispatched by the organization, the two laid the
groundwork for their mission: the assassination of the man responsible
for this voyage—the wealthy merchant, Halldor Baarn.
The organization was not particular about how they dealt with their
targets—whether in swift silence or via raucous violence, their only real
concern was making sure they did not draw the attention of the Bracer
Guild or the local police.
As a hard rule, Three and Nine would always select the most efficient
method available to them. In this case, their mission was to prevent the
ship from arriving in Calvard with Halldor still alive on it. Halldor had
strong ties with Heiyue, a sizable criminal organization in the Republic.
Should he safely make it to his destination and take refuge under their
protection, his extraction and subsequent elimination would prove an
exceptionally difficult task.
Aside from the engine area, the ship had three main floors. The lowest
housed a considerable number of general passengers. Naturally, this was
where Three and Nine’s room was located. The second floor contained a
hall used for parties, banquets, and meals, as well as other such events.
Finally, the third floor featured luxury rooms prepared specifically for
noble use. At present, however, the entirety of the floor was reserved by
Halldor, who was enjoying the comforts of the room in the farthest back.
Three and Nine put their equipment and tools in order and then sprang
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into action. Their plan was to head to the hall on the second floor, but
not before leaving a little “gift” on the first. The hall would be packed
with passengers once dinner service began. Given that only the ultrawealthy and those with noble status were in attendance, the menu was
likely to be suitably extravagant. Yet once they arrived, they found that
Halldor had not elected to appear—an act of caution, perhaps. This was
expected, however, and the two took their planned positions in a central
area of the room.
“It’s time.”
Three’s quiet murmur was immediately followed by the din of an
explosion from the floor below. The passengers began to panic, but their
fear slowly subsided to uneasiness as security personnel deployed and
headed to the first floor to investigate the situation. In truth, the explosion
had been caused by a small makeshift bomb that Three and Nine had
planted in an unoccupied room. The blast wasn’t particularly powerful,
but it was enough to ignite a number of small fires in the area. Their
goal was to lure out security, and in that regard, the bomb had more than
served its purpose. The plan was progressing apace.
“Guess I’m up,” Nine said in her usual lackadaisical drawl.
She gathered up the edges of her skirt in her hands and gently swayed
it back and forth, resulting in a number of black spheres thudding down
to the floor. A series of muffled pops reverberated throughout the hall,
heralding a cloud of smoke and tear gas that quickly filled the room.
“Wh-What’s going on?! I can hardly breathe!”
“Aaah! My... My eyes are tearing up!”
The gas wasn’t especially strong and would have no lasting effects
on its victims. However, it was more than enough to send the alreadyuneasy group of elites into a full-blown panic. Three and Nine then
began the next stage of their plan—their infiltration of the third floor.
Currently, the bulk of security was on the first floor, meaning they
would have to pass all the way through the second in order to respond to
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any emergencies at the top of the ship. The large numbers of panicking
passengers on the second floor wouldn’t stall security for long, but the
situation would still buy Three and Nine all the time they would need.
So far, the assassins’ plan had gone flawlessly. Still, that didn’t mean
killing Halldor would be easy once they had reached him. The two hid
themselves in a stairwell on the third floor and scouted ahead.
“Hmm... Two more there. From what I can see, it looks like we’ll have
five to deal with.” Nine shared her observations with Three in a hushed
tone. He silently nodded in acknowledgement.
One look at the men standing guard ahead was enough to tell them
they were neither typical passengers nor ship security. They were wellarmed, and their combat experience was practically carved into their
hardened faces.
“Ex-jaegers, huh?”
It was clear they had been hired not to protect the general guests, but to
personally attend to Halldor. Given that his room was located in the very
back of the ship, it meant that the only way to reach him was through
the battle-hardened veterans that currently barred Three and Nine’s path.
Avoiding a fight simply wasn’t in the cards this time.
“I’ll take lead.”
As she said this, Nine began to casually walk forward, her posture
relaxed. She made no attempt to hide her approach, and even when the
guards heard her soft footsteps and turned to look, they didn’t register
her as a threat—an advantage afforded her by her candy-sweet exterior.
“Little lady, you’re not allowed up here without permission,” one of
the guards said in a gravelly voice.
“Yeah. We know there’s been some kind of disturbance downstairs,”
another chimed in, “but this ain’t an evacuation site. Get yourself back
to your room.”
Their tone was a bit harsh, but considering they used to be jaegers,
their attitude toward Nine was almost amicable. She gestured toward
Halldor’s room.
“But I want to go in there. Pretty please?”
Nine wasn’t putting on the spoiled noble act she had used to sneak
aboard the ship earlier in the day. This was probably as close to her
genuine, sleepy intonation as she would allow during a mission.
“You wanna meet with Mr. Halldor, do ya? Well, today ain’t your
lucky day, kid, ’cause we got strict orders to not let anyone into this
room.”
“And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
Nine tilted her head as she spoke, her presence beginning to unnerve
the guards.
“Nope. Nothing,” one of them finally responded.
“Oh. I see... That really is too bad.”
Despite her words, Nine didn’t seem especially disappointed by their
response. Taking her plush bear in hand, she suddenly thrust it out in
front of her. There was a flash of silver and a loud “fwip,” followed by
the thud of two of the guards collapsing to the ground. Their necks had
each been pierced by two needles, which had been tipped in poison—a
specialty of Nine’s and her mainstay in combat.
Ordinarily hidden within the bear, the needles could be used to quickly
disperse various types of poison through a target’s body when thrown at
a vital point. Nine would typically carry up to ten types of poisons, each
suitable for a different situation. Depending on the circumstances, she
would even use poison-free needles on occasion. This time, Nine had
struck the two bodyguards with a neurotoxin that robbed the body of its
ability to freely move. While not strong enough to kill, it was definitely
enough to immobilize someone of substantial size for a good while.
“What the—?”
Having sensed something amiss, one of the remaining bodyguards
down the hallway turned to see what was happening. Out of the corner
of his eye, he spotted a figure quickly moving in his direction. Before he
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could figure out what was happening, however, a blade flashed before his
eyes and he was on the ground, incapacitated along with his comrades.
The swift takedown was executed by Three. He wielded a longsword
with a thin blade that appeared sharp enough to cut the very air around
it. Its construction resembled that of traditional Eastern swords, albeit
with a straight blade instead of the typical curved one. Its design was
surprisingly ornate, and curiously enough, it seemed to be missing a hilt
guard and part of the blade near its base.
The two remaining bodyguards had seen what had happened and had
each already dropped into a fighting stance. No matter how youthful their
opponents, it was clear they had no intention of pulling their punches.
“You little bastards!” yelled one of them as he began swinging his
axe downward.
Three met the attack with his sword, locking the assassin and the
bodyguard in place. Seeing an opening, the other bodyguard drew his
sword and attempted to stab Three. While still holding the axe in place
with his right hand, Three quickly drew a short sword with his left, using
it to deflect the second bodyguard’s attack in one clean motion.
The short sword resembled the longsword in nearly all aspects but
length. Unlike the longsword, it had a hilt guard. However, it seemed
incomplete somehow, as though it was missing a piece. It was much
less of an offensive weapon than the longsword, being used mainly for
defense.
Despite his best efforts to fend off the attackers, it seemed as though
Three would quickly be overpowered. Even for him, it was difficult
to hold back the weight of an attack from a grown man with only his
right hand. Sensing that he needed to do something quickly, Three
intentionally stopped pushing back on the axe, deflecting it harmlessly
to the side. With his remaining strength, he whipped around to face his
staggering assailant and plunged his short sword deep into his torso.
The other bodyguard quickly launched a flurry of attacks, but Three
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pushed the critically wounded axe-wielder into his comrade. The
sword-wielding bodyguard was momentarily taken off guard and Three
capitalized on the opening, cutting him down with both swords.
“Right. That should be—”
Three turned to notify Nine that the guards had all been dispatched,
but as he did, he saw the door to the VIP room open behind her. Out
stepped another ex-jaeger, weapon drawn, his sights set on attacking the
defenseless Nine while her guard was down.
Too much space separated them for Three to warn Nine in time. He
pushed off his back heel with all his might but stopped his dash a split
second later—as did the final bodyguard.
“My, you’re pretty sharp. I was wondering how long it’d take you to
catch on.”
Nine turned lazily on her heel and cast a derisive glance over her
shoulder. Her expression remained unfazed as thin, red stripes appeared
over the jaeger’s arms and legs, blood beginning to trickle out like
sanguine tears.
“Better not move. Wriggle too much, and you’ll be leaving in more
pieces than you arrived.”
Her sweet appearance made her remarks all the more disconcerting and
ghastly. The ex-jaeger understood that this was no empty threat. He truly
couldn’t afford to take another step. The cause of his painful predicament
was a web of superfine steel threads surrounding him. Thanks to their
special processing, the threads were roughly as sharp as a drawer full
of top-end kitchen knives.
Nine had laid a trap outside the door—one that an unassuming person
would have been hard-pressed to detect with the naked eye. Any
unfortunate soul who had tried to pass through the area with any degree
of speed would have soon found themself the centerpiece of a grisly,
blood-splattered tableau.
The threads were connected to specially designed needles Nine used
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as her main weapon. Such thread was notoriously difficult to use, and it
was rarely regarded as being sufficiently powerful to use as one’s only
means of attack. While there were rumors of true masters who needed
no other implements to eliminate their target, Nine had yet to attain such
a level of skill with them. That said, she was still a menace in her own
right, and a fiendishly clever master of traps besides, as the ex-jaeger
had just learned.
Nine tossed a poisoned needle at her immobilized foe with minimal
effort, and her hapless victim collapsed to the floor.
She tilted her head to the side as she noticed Three staring at her.
“What? Is something wrong, S?” she asked, using the nickname she
preferred to call Three by. She would often refer to herself as “N,” which
Three took as a shortened version of “Nine,” but when she spoke with
Three, she would use “S” instead of “T.” He had assumed it to be short
for “Swords,” despite the word being part of both their names, but had
never bothered to ask.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Three tersely responded as he turned to
face the VIP room door.
At last, the pair stepped into the room housing their target, Halldor
Baarn.
To Be Continued
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I
nside, the room was opulence made manifest—the best of the best.
Enough to make the wealthiest noble envious. In the center of its
spacious layout sat Halldor Baarn, reclined on a sofa. He brought a
glass of wine to his lips as his features twisted in a wry, unpleasant
expression.
“Absolute incompetence. Such a simple job, and yet apparently, one
completely beyond them.”
Mr. Baarn had fully grasped the situation. He had given the order
that no one be allowed in, but there were now two children standing
before him. Given the commotion outside, it had been easy to guess
what happened. Though their appearances made it hard to believe, the
two standing before him were no doubt professional assassins, here for
his life.
Still, Halldor maintained his composure. He kept this realization
hidden, refusing to allow so much as a hint of panic to creep into his
features.
The source of this confidence was a certain colossal machine that sat
on the floor before him. Its mere presence made even the impossibly
spacious room feel cramped. It towered over two arge in height, with
six spiderlike legs protruding from its body. Its humanoid upper half
stood erect, with four menacing arms stretching out from it. The entire
machine emitted an eerie glow, making for a most intimidating sight
to behold.
“Wowee. That’s a big one,” Nine remarked, glancing up at it.
“An archaism!” Three exclaimed, immediately shifting to a battle
stance.
“Heh. This beauty is a new favorite of mine—a rather fruitful find at a
recent back-alley auction I happened to attend. And it wasn’t cheap, let
me tell you. But no, I didn’t stop there. I’m a man who doesn’t do things
by half measures. I paid a princely sum to have it outfitted with the most
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cutting-edge technology available. Mira well spent, in my opinion. I
daresay it has enough firepower to easily wipe out an entire platoon of
soldiers if I wanted it to. In fact, it’d be mere child’s play.”
Barely able to contain his smug grin, Halldor looked like a boastful
child showing off his expensive toy at school.
“So the bums outside were just bouncers, then. And this monstrosity
is what’s actually here to protect you...” Three deduced.
“Oh! A sharp one. That’s precisely correct,” Halldor said gleefully.
“As long as I have it by my side, my safety here is guaranteed. And once
I make it to the Republic, I’ll be untouchable!”
He let out a long laugh, his voice rising higher and higher, echoing
endlessly throughout the gaudy chamber.
“Shockingly stupid.”
“He really is an idiot, huh?”
The duo’s comments weren’t born from simple overconfidence.
Even if they did somehow fail in their mission, and even if Halldor did
somehow manage to make it to Heiyue territory, he had already been
marked for death by the organization. They would pursue him to the
bitter end. To the last man. He had zero chance of survival.
“ATTACK!”
At Halldor’s order, the archaism lurched into action. It set its sights
on Three, charging straight for him. Nine took the opportunity to begin
casting her arts. While her partner specialized in close-quarters combat,
she was a force to be reckoned with when it came to orbal arts.
As she began the charge, however, one of the archaism’s arms rapidly
folded out into a gun, the muzzle pointed in Nine’s direction. Without
delay, it sprayed a hail of bullets at her.
“Whoa!”
Nine evaded the gunfire by a hair’s breadth but was forced to abandon
casting her art. The archaism focused its attention back on Three, who
was busy fending off its melee attacks with his longsword. Nine sprinted
to the other side of the room and started her cast again. The machine’s
aim was too adept, however, and she found herself unable to escape it
long enough to get an art off.
It appeared that their foe was equipped with a powerful arts-detection
sensor—one that allowed it to identify incoming orbal attacks and
counterattack before they could be launched. Forced to abandon her
casting yet again, Nine screwed up her face in frustration and sullenly
gripped her plush bear.
“Hmph. This thing doesn’t play nice. I quit!” she said in a huff.
It was a fair point. Poison-tipped needles wouldn’t have been
particularly effective against the steel plating of a machine, and without
the ability to cast her arts, Nine found herself at a loss.
Three, however, remained unperturbed and readied himself for another
onslaught.
“I’m gonna grab a little shuteye. Wake me when the fighting’s over,
okay?” Nine said as she flopped down on one of the room’s sofas, using
her bear as a pillow.
“Nine?! Cut it out! I need you to stay awake!” Three shouted from
across the room.
Despite this, Nine didn’t react at all. As she dozed, the archaism
seemed to disregard her as a threat and fully focused its attention on
Three. Its four arms, transformed into a sword, a lance, an axe, and a
gun, proceeded to launch a relentless string of attacks at the alreadyoverwhelmed assassin.
Three leapt out of the way as the machine’s sword arm cut an arc
through the air, only to then see the lance rocketing toward him. He
narrowly avoided it, but his escape path was blocked by a mighty swing
of the axe. Meanwhile, the archaism had its gun trained in Halldor’s
direction. Even in the heat of combat, it prioritized protecting its master
against any approaching threats.
Swift movements and deft swordplay were the foundation of Three’s
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combat style, but they were little use against such a powerful machine.
The archaism was simply too fast, and its attacks were both explosively
powerful and aimed with deadly precision. Further, its six legs afforded
it perfect balance, and its multiple arms allowed it to launch attacks
faster than Three could keep up. To his irritation, Three found his skillset
completely useless against the metal monstrosity.
Sure, he was a better fit for the task than Nine, but only by a slim
margin.
Regardless, he continued to fight, both blades flashing as they moved
to intercept his foe. The sheer number of attacks coming at him forced
Three to focus entirely on defense. He parried, dodged, and deflected
the relentless wave of strikes, biding his time, waiting for the machine
to leave an opening for him to strike with his longsword.
This violent dance continued on for some time. Three had managed to
land a number of blows to the machine’s body and arms, but each had
resulted in no more than a metallic twang as his blade was repelled by
its solid metal armor.
“Hahaha! It’s no use, child! That armor was specially commissioned,
and your pathetic little butter knives don’t have a snowball’s chance in
Gehenna against them!”
Halldor’s mocking tone grated on Three’s nerves. It was made worse
by the fact it was clear he wasn’t lying—Three’s attacks had been
completely ineffective so far. Still, Three had yet to suffer any wounds.
Given how things were going, though, it was only a matter of time before
he was slowly worn down.
“Analysis complete.”
Nine suddenly began speaking, apparently having woken up from her
nap. Still lounging on the sofa, she continued, her voice flatter and more
precise than usual.
“Arms: Joint one, down five rege. Legs: Joint two, up three rege.
Waist: Rotation axis center. Left side of chest: Up 2/5, left 1/5.”
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The first to respond was not Three, but Halldor.
“You little wench! How did you do that?!”
He was flustered, clearly shocked that Nine had figured out the
archaism’s structural weak points.
Nine slowly rose from the sofa and reverted back to her usual drawl,
sleepily rubbing her eyes as she spoke.
“I could tell by the sound. It takes a bit of concentration, though.”
Pure disbelief was etched into Halldor’s face. Three, on the other hand,
looked as composed as ever. He had known from the start what Nine
was doing; he was simply buying time until the analysis was complete.
“S! Now!”
“Right.”
Three readied himself and rushed the archaism, his swordplay swifter
than ever, a veritable tornado of slashes and stabs. Each of his attacks
hit upon one of the weak points that Nine had pointed out. He suddenly
switched to his short sword and performed the same volley of attacks,
hitting each point a second time, but the result was the same as before—
nothing save the same high-pitched metallic sound that rang out with
each hit.
It didn’t appear that the archaism had been damaged in the slightest.
“HAHAHA!”
Halldor was beside himself with laughter, relishing watching the
young assassin struggle.
“What a joke! You can swing those little swords of yours until the
poms come home, but you’re never getting through that armor!”
“All part of the process.”
Letting this simple reply linger in the air, Three lined up his shortsword
with the empty section in the base of his longsword. The two blades
locked into place, becoming a single weapon, their sharp edges lining up
perfectly. At first glance, it would be difficult to tell the two were ever
anything other than a single sword. Halldor watched the process with
interest, but then burst into mocking laughter a moment later.
“Proud of your pocket knife, little boy? Do you honestly think that
will be your ticket to victory?”
Truth be told, even in its combined state, the reach of Three’s sword
hadn’t improved any. Nor was the weapon sharper or faster. The slightly
increased weight of the blade may have provided some increase in
power, but certainly not enough to break through the archaism’s thick
armor. Given the opponent at hand, the weapon truly seemed little better
than a toy.
Three chose to remain silent and let his weapon do the talking. He
swung it at the weak point on the archaism’s leg—the same spot he
had targeted before. This time, however, his strike was followed by a
loud explosion and the archaism’s leg flew across the room. The blast
seemed to have come from within the archaism itself, and was powerful
enough to have blown its limb clean off. At a glance, it seemed similar
to a fire-element art, but neither Three nor Nine had appeared to have
cast anything. Even if they had, the archaism’s sensor would surely
have detected it.
“Wh-What the—” Halldor stammered, his face twisted with shock
and fear.
Another swing by Three’s sword.
Followed by another explosion. A second of the archaism’s limbs was
sent flying to a corner of the room.
“What the hell is going on?!” Halldor screeched, no longer trying to
hide his panic. His tone quickly deteriorated from alarm to abject terror.
“This is no ordinary sword,” Three began to speak, his face devoid of
expression. “It’s fully integrated with a battle orbment, forming a single
weapon. Well, strictly speaking, I suppose it’s closer to an ordinary
orbment than a battle orbment.”
As he spoke, he continued his attack, his swordplay not pausing for
even a second.
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“An orbment with a single function—a controlled explosion on points I
designate. However, its activation requires each blade to have separately
made contact with the intended target area. You can think of the marks
as targeting coordinates, essentially.”
Even though Three’s initial attacks seemed to have been repelled,
they were actually preparatory steps in this process. The subsequent
explosions were the true attack.
“The third strike to the same location, this time made with the unified
blade, results in the explosion.”
The location and timing specifications were complicated, as was the
use of the specialized orbment in conjunction with some automated
processing. The end result was an instantaneous cast time, however. If
the wielder was skilled enough, they’d be able to launch powerful arts
attacks without the need for any charge-up period. It was in this ability
that the true value of Three’s weapons lay.
“B-But...”
Having suffered an enormous amount of damage from the rapid
arts strikes unleashed on it, the archaism began throwing sparks in all
directions.
It began to dawn on Halldor that victory was no longer an option for
him, and he began desperately looking for a means of escape.
“Stop! Stop fighting and get me out of here, NOW!” he ordered the
archaism in a shrill yell.
Reacting to its new orders, the machine quickly rotated its torso and
began moving toward him.
“I don’t think so,” a lazy voice called out from across the room.
During the commotion, its remaining spiderlike legs had been bound
with a complex web of steel thread, rendering it immobile.
“This is the end.”
Three quickly struck its remaining weak points in rapid succession.
The resulting series of explosions tore the machine to pieces, littering
its surroundings with burnt steel and charred components. When the
smoke had cleared, the room was so filled with broken parts, it was more
scrapyard than suite. What remained of the archaism’s body ceased all
functions and collapsed, its chassis mangled beyond recognition.
Three deftly wove his way through the junk scattered at his feet,
silently moving toward Halldor.
“S-Stay back!”
A pitiful squeak escaped Halldor’s throat as he scrambled backward,
away from the approaching assassin. There was nowhere to run, however.
Three’s mission was nearing its end, yet he didn’t feel happiness, or even
relief.
He took a step closer.
He felt his sword suddenly grow heavy in his hand.
He forced himself to take another step.
His legs felt like they were encased in concrete.
His whole body felt like it was desperately rejecting his advance.
Trying to pull itself away.
Another step.
This was how it always ended. All that remained was for him to fulfill
his role. He was nothing but a tool—a machine.
This was how it was supposed to be.
Three took one final step forward.
“There’s no need to share any details with you. Still, I figure you at
least deserve to know who’s ending your life.”
To know, Three thought to himself, whose name to curse as you burn
in the fires of Gehenna.
“I am Three of Swords.”
He plunged his blade deep into Halldor’s chest, piercing the man’s
heart.
“I’m an assassin for the organization.”
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By this point, the panic on the second floor had largely subsided, and
the ship’s security guards were finally starting to move up to the third
floor. Picking up on this, Three and Nine quietly broke open the window
and jumped through it to the sea outside.
“It’s a good thing this mission wasn’t on an airship. That would’ve
made escaping way more of a pain,” Nine remarked.
“Agreed.”
She was right. Escaping from an airship would have necessitated a
specialized aircraft for the operation, as well as forcing the two to leap
from ship to ship midair. It wouldn’t have been entirely impossible for
the young assassins, though, and surely someone in their wide world
had carried out such an operation before.
“S.”
Nine softly called out to Three, again using her preferred nickname
for him
“He was a corrupt man. An evil man.”
The two of them looked back toward the ship. There was no need for
further explanation between the two.
“Yeah,” Three said quietly. “I know.”
He had been thorough in reading through the mission dossier, and
knew that Nine spoke true. Halldor was a bastard through and through–
one that had performed all kinds of horrible acts in the pursuit of mira.
His mere existence sullied the world, and society was better off with
him no longer a part of it.
“Not that it matters either way.”
When it came down to it, a hit was a hit. A target could be the person
with the purest heart on the continent or the scummiest bottom-feeder
imaginable. If an assassination order came in from the organization,
Three and Nine followed it. That’s how it always was.
“I guess.”
Nine went silent. She took something out from her plush bear and
began blowing into it. It gradually took the shape of an inflatable raft big
enough for one. Nine climbed aboard it and flopped down, once again
using her bear as a pillow.
“I’m gonna catch another few winks. I’ll leave this part to you, S,
‘kay?”
“This part” meant for Three to swim them both to shore.
“Your legs work just fine,” he retorted, “Do it yourself.”
Despite his words, Three felt a twinge of something resembling
affection in his heart. He and Nine had been operating together for over
a year by this point. She was a little younger than him and he sometimes
found himself thinking of her as more a little sister than just his partner.
Their natural rapport aside, she was also someone he could truly rely
on during their missions.
Despite this, Three understood the situation. He understood that even
if Nine was his partner, even if he thought of her as a little sister, he
could never let his guard down.
He could never truly trust her.
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THREE & NINE: A TRAILS TALE
T
hey haunt me relentlessly.
All the people I’ve murdered over the years.
I’ve cut off their heads. Carved their hearts from their chests. Sliced
their torsos right through the middle. But no matter what I do, an army
of corpses continues to pursue me. I see them every time I close my
eyes. The politicians, the nobles, the merchants, the rich and powerful.
“Just leave me alone! Leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealone!”
I frantically swing my sword at them.
I cut and cut, bisecting them. Slashing them apart.
But they don’t relent.
Chunks of flesh and bone, viscera and intestines, lungs and brains.
They gather into a writhing mass that comes crashing down on me like
a gory wave, threatening to swallow me whole.
“Getawaygetawaygetawaygetaway!”
I try to escape, but they corner me again and again.
My victims, staring at me with hollow eyes. Accusing me.
“How could you do this to us?! How?!”
They throw themselves at me, their decaying fingers gripping my neck,
trying to rip the life out of me just as I did to them.
“Let me go! Letmegoletmegoletmego!”
I frantically thrash and struggle, but no matter what I do, I can’t break
away.
Rotting blood and bile trickles down my body, dissolving my skin.
The wave finally swallows me up.
I just want a normal life.
I just want my humanity back.
I woke from my nightmare, my breath short and ragged. My entire
body was soaked in a horrible sweat. I fought back the rising urge to
vomit.
The night after completing a mission was always like this. The only
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difference was seeing one more face in the crowd.
Even after years, my disgust for murder had never abated—not even
in the slightest. No matter how much time passed, I couldn’t rid myself
of the scars left in my mind by the terrible acts I’d performed. And yet
I had no choice but to continue.
Nine and I were nothing but tools. Our individual thoughts and ideals
had no meaning. They were completely unnecessary. All the organization
required from us was a skillful capacity for murder and unquestioning
subordination—to kill as we were ordered to. Our entire existence boiled
down to this singular point. To reject an order or attempt escape was
tantamount to suicide.
The organization...
To even speak its true name was forbidden. It was a group of
professional killers that existed in the shadows of society. Its core business
was eliminating marks, but its true objective likely lay elsewhere. As a
low-ranking member, I was simply one of the organization’s weapons—
there was no reason for such info to be shared with me.
Most members of the organization had served it since they were
children. Children deemed to possess special potential were made to
undergo combat instruction and exercises in a place known as “the
factory.” The majority of children who entered the factory would never
again see beyond its walls. Unable to endure the merciless training they
were put through, it would become their tomb. The “lucky” ones who
did survive, however, were officially recognized as entry-level members
of the organization.
That’s what happened with me. I was forced to abandon who I
was when I first passed through the factory’s doors at seven years
old. Anyone who dared utter their former name would be subject to
severe punishment. There was no concept of individuality. Life in the
organization meant being nothing more than another tool in an arsenal.
It wasn’t until I graduated at the age of ten that I was given a name. It
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only served to solidify my status as a weapon, however. Our names—
more like titles—are based on tarot cards.
In my case, the moniker I received was from the Minor Arcana: “Three
of Swords.” It didn’t have even the slightest bit of humanity to it, but
it was better than having no name at all. Both the higher ups and a
small fraction of the very best candidates were given a name based
on the Major Arcana. Everyone who survived training and made it in
was skilled, but in terms of combat ability, the Major Arcana could run
circles around the rest of us. Rumor had it they were even more powerful
than top-ranked bracers.
I left my room and peeked into the neighboring one. It seemed like
Nine was still sleeping. It was time for my report, so I headed out on
my own. Lower-level members of the organization generally operated
in pairs. My partner is Nine of Swords, a girl one year my junior.
Nine was a natural genius. She graduated from the factory in a single
year, despite the fact that the average kid takes three to five—if they even
make it to graduation without “dropping out,” that is. From gathering
info to analyzing battle situations, acting abilities to infiltration tactics...
she was top-class in a multitude of fronts. That’s to say nothing of her
combat style, which made use of needles and thread, allowing her to
control the field of battle and dominate her foes. All in all, her abilities
were far better suited to assassinations than mine were. It was a bit
awkward for us when we were first paired up, but after working together
for a year, I could honestly say she was the best partner I’d ever had—
and the most reliable.
At the same time, she was also the person I needed to regard with the
most caution. The reasons why the organization used a partner system
were twofold. The obvious reason was that it helped facilitate missions,
but it also forced each partner to monitor the other. In the organization,
betrayal was swiftly returned with death. A tool is doomed to serve until
it breaks. As such, we were expected to be part of the organization the
entirety of our lives. As a general rule, we were afforded no freedom.
There did, however, exist special rules. If one were to sense that their
partner was scheming to betray the organization, they could sell them
out to gain their own freedom. All you had to do was make your report,
present sufficient evidence of your suspicion, and then you were given
the task of eliminating them yourself. If you succeeded, you were free.
Simply running away meant resigning yourself to looking over your
shoulder the rest of your life. The organization had eyes everywhere.
Anyone who wanted true freedom was better off waiting for the chance
to turn their partner in.
There was another problem, too—the worst of the worst would
actually fabricate proof of their partner’s betrayal in an effort to earn
their own freedom.
Thus, the person you needed to regard most cautiously was not an
enemy you’d face on any mission, but the partner who was always
at your side. You needed to entertain and accept the notion that you
could be betrayed at any time. Members did not turn their backs on the
organization. This was an absolute requirement for survival, and a lesson
I learned very early on through personal experience.
Three years ago, I tried to escape. Well, I suppose it was more “we”
than “I.” At the time, I was partnered with another boy—one known as
“Ace of Swords.”
Ace was a year my senior, and he was a pretty good guy. We got along
well enough, and he quickly grew into an older brother figure for me.
He wielded a giant sword with ease—one as long as he was tall—and
he used it both to destroy our enemies and protect me. He really was an
ace when it came to battle. In that sense, his name couldn’t have been
more appropriate.
One thing Ace and I shared was contempt for the murders we were
forced to perform. I can’t remember how the idea of escaping the
organization came up initially, but I do recall that neither of us objected
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to it.
As I mentioned, the system was set up to prevent individual members
from betraying the organization, as they could be sold out by their
partner. We figured the best way around that was to simply work together
and escape the organization as a team. With our objective decided on,
we began planning in earnest.
We quickly decided we’d need to execute our plan as far away from
other pairs of assassins “employed” by the organization. The first part
of our plan went well enough. We entered Erebonia, thinking that its
considerable distance from our normal area of operations meant we
could enjoy a certain degree of safety.
That was a severe misjudgment on our part, though. The organization
had eyes there as well. We were approached by other pairs of assassins
twice, and both times ended with combat. We managed to fend them
off, however. Ace and I were partners for a reason, and we fought well
together.
The third time, however, it was our overseer who paid us a visit. To
say that his power was overwhelming wouldn’t do it justice—it was like
trying to fight a force of nature.
We barely managed to escape with our lives, suffering heavy wounds
in the process. With nowhere else to go, we huddled together in a cave,
conscious of the fact that our next encounter with the overseer would
surely be our last. There was nothing more to be said about the situation,
and for what felt like an eternity, we passed the time in silence.
“Hey, Ace?” I began speaking, believing that it would be the last
conversation we’d ever have.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“I just want to say that...all things considered, I think everything could
have went a lot worse.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he struggled through the pain to
force out a little smirk at my comment.
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“Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of regrets, but still...”
Ace waited in silence for me to continue.
“Being by your side all this time, well...it’s made my life so much
better, Ace. And even if we’re fated to meet our deaths here, it’s a
million times better than spending a lifetime as just another tool.”
The fire flickered. Our shadows danced on the cave wall.
Finally, Ace broke the silence, his voice a mere whisper.
“Three... Thanks for everything, man.”
“You, too, Ace. Thank you.”
I had said what I needed to say. I felt that if our opponent were to
arrive at that very moment, I’d at least be able to give my whole soul
to the battle.
But then...
“If that’s how you feel...” Ace started.
Suddenly, the ambience in the cave completely shifted, like some
horrible hallucination. Ace’s icy voice pierced through me, chilling me
to the bone.
“...then die, buddy. Die for me.”
My first reaction was slight confusion. I actually interpreted it as a
clumsy way of saying that we would face our deaths together. I turned to
face him, just to clarify, and what I saw next was Ace’s massive sword
speeding down toward my head.
I immediately dodged his strike, and the ground where I had been
laying only a moment ago had been shattered into rubble.
“Ace! What are you doing?!” I cried out.
“You can’t figure it out on your own? Have you forgotten the final
rule for those who betray the organization?”
The final rule. I hadn’t forgotten it, I simply hadn’t given it much
thought. It seemed irrelevant to our situation. But everything clicked
into place then.
When two partners betray the organization, the only way for one of
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them to gain its forgiveness was to kill their partner and present the
organization with the corpse.
The idea behind this rule was to force escapees into a sense of
desperation, and then push them into killing each other, taking care of
the problem so the organization didn’t have to.
To my absolute shock, this was precisely what Ace was trying to do.
I understood what was happening, but all I could do was ask why, over
and over.
“Ace! Why? Why are you doing this?”
“You know, buddy, becoming partners with you was the only bit of
luck I’ve had in my whole goddess-damned life. I really did want to be
free together. To get our humanity back together.”
“Then why are you—”
“Because I need to survive!” he said, his voice dripping with
desperation. “I can’t die like this!”
Screaming wildly, Ace swung his sword at me again. The same sword
that had been used to save my life more times than I could count was
now being used in an attempt to end it.
“Just die!” he screamed.
I tried to scream back, but the horrible knot in my stomach and the
storm of emotions in my heart ensured that the only thing that came out
of my mouth was a meaningless warble as I met his sword with my own.
Engulfed in despair, I surrendered control to my instincts and engaged
this “enemy” in combat as I would any other.
I don’t clearly remember what happened from there. All I know is that
I was overtaken by rage and sadness and became a slashing, screaming
monster. I was finally brought to my senses by the sound of Ace’s body
collapsing to the ground. That’s how I managed to survive. How I “won”
back my position as one of the organization’s tools.
And that’s where I’d been ever since.
Our escape was a deadly failure that laid bare my inadequacies. I still
48
hadn’t given up on winning back my humanity...
...but I’d be damned if I was going to trust anyone else ever again.
To Be Continued
THREE & NINE: A TRAILS TALE
T
he town was practically empty, and the first rays of dawn were
only just beginning to pierce the dark sky above. Stepping out of
the inn, Three inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the chilly air in an
effort to dispel his drowsiness.
The town, known as Luzent, was located on the border of Calvard
and Remiferia. Three and Nine would often undertake missions in both
countries, making the centrally located town a perfect base of operations.
East of the town was an official border crossing into Calvard. In stark
contrast, westward lay a mountain road known only to a select few. It
was a treacherous path to be sure, but also one that facilitated entry into
the Republic without the need to go through the official channels.
Three headed to the designated rendezvous point—a small hill
surrounded by weathered boulders. The site was deep in the mountains,
and therefore free of unwanted eyes.
There, he found a black silhouette waiting for him. It was a man
hidden in shadow, wrapped in a tattered black cloak that obscured his
face and body both. Despite his bedraggled attire, his presence had an
insurmountable weight to it, instilling a primal sort of fear into any who
laid eyes on him.
“I’m here to make my report,” said Three.
In response, the cloaked figure uttered only a single word.
“Speak.”
This man, known as the overseer, was one of the higher-ranking
members of the organization. He was given the name of “Emperor”
from the Major Arcana, but those who served under him referred to him
simply as “the overseer.”
As his title suggested, he watched over Three and the rest of the
organization’s tools. He was the one who provided mission instructions
and received their reports.
Three relayed the details of the Halldor mission to the overseer. As he
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finished, the man spoke again.
“Next.”
“Right. Regarding Nine of Swords...”
As part of their debriefing, every member was required to report on
their partner’s activities. Each of the pair would separately describe what
they did and what they observed their partner doing. Even the slightest
discrepancy between the pair’s reports was regarded with suspicion. The
objective behind this requirement was to instill them with fear—fear that
any plot they may hatch to betray the organization would swiftly make
its way to the ears of their superiors.
“That is all,” Three said as he finished his report.
“Very well,” the overseer said, “You will be contacted with instructions
for your next mission once they are ready.”
“Understood.”
Three turned to head back to town, but as he did, the overseer spoke
again. It was little more than a whisper, but it was delivered with a
weight that froze Three in his tracks.
“Stop.”
Three slowly turned around to face the overseer. As always, his dark
hood completely covered his face.
“It has been three years now. You’ve not been designing any more
plans, have you?”
Three felt a sudden chill shoot down his spine. The overseer’s
suffocating gaze was laced with a powerful malice. There was no need
for Three to ask for clarification. He knew the overseer was talking about
his escape attempt three years prior.
The Emperor had personally conducted many of the organization’s
purges of runaway members. As their very lives became threatened,
many lower-ranking members would find themselves overwhelmed by
fear, rendering them powerless before the merciless Emperor. Thus, even
within the organization—a cruel place in its own right—the Emperor had
earned himself a reputation for his savagery. He was also the very same
man who had tracked down Three and Ace during their escape attempt.
Had he already picked up on Three’s new plan to escape? No... Three
found the thought absurd. He had taken every step with the utmost
care and prudence. Further, if the Emperor had obtained some proof of
Three’s wrongdoing, the young assassin would already be dead. This
was a test. If Three wavered here, even in the slightest, it would mean
his end.
“I will never again attempt something so foolish. I am a tool of the
organization, nothing more. My sole purpose is to take the lives of my
targets.”
The way he cast his eyes, his calculated and practiced manner of
speech, his natural breathing patterns... Three had pulled it off to
perfection. Silence hung heavy in the air between them for a moment.
Finally, the Emperor spoke.
“I do hope that is the case.”
The murderous presence faded from the air, as did the tension that had
been building in Three’s chest.
“There are certain expectations riding on your shoulders,” the Emperor
said.
“I will fully devote myself to meeting them,” Three said in the same
practiced tone. He moved once more to return to town and was not
stopped this time.
“He bought it...”
Back at his inn room, Three let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed
into his bed. Nothing had really happened during his exchange with
the overseer, but nonetheless, he felt completely drained. Without
exception, each interaction he had with the overseer was psychologically
exhausting. This was to be expected, however, as he was, indeed, hiding
his true intentions from the organization.
In truth, Three had been planning a second escape attempt. The past
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three years had been grueling, but it did nothing to quash his fervent
desire for freedom. If anything, his resolve to reclaim his humanity
had only grown stronger by the day. However, each day also saw his
blood-drenched hands growing yet heavier with sin. He was a mere
tool—human in physical form only. What few shreds of humanity still
remained in his heart, he feared would be forever lost before much
longer. Each new day that dawned could be the day that he finally slipped
away into being little more than a device—one whose only function was
assassination. Put simply, a cold-hearted monster. That was the terrifying
future he dreaded above all else.
“I absolutely need to succeed this time! I need to get out!”
His plan had two requirements he absolutely needed to meet in order
to succeed.
First off, he needed to avoid a direct confrontation with the overseer.
Second, Nine could not find out about his plan, regardless of their
partnership. He had to be careful to avoid even giving the impression
that he longed for freedom. Of course, this meant that Three would be
forced to abandon Nine—someone who had fought at his side through
countless life-or-death situations. The girl was even younger than he
was, but for all her genius, there seemed to be something...off about her.
Nonetheless, whenever Three thought about the moment he would pull
the trigger and finally put his plan in motion, he always felt a strange
sensation welling up inside of him. Strangely enough, it was a desperate
urge to fill her in. There were a number of times where Three had tried,
actually. Before he could even get the first word out, however, memories
of Ace’s sword speeding down toward him would flash through his
mind. In the end, he always remained silent.
“I... I can’t take this anymore! I can’t let my scars define me! I know
what I have to do. There’s no other way.”
Three shook off the thoughts plaguing him and returned his focus to
preparing for his escape.
The rest of the day went by quickly and before long, dusk began to
settle on the town. The day saw Three’s diligence pay off at last; his
final preparations had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped for. The
time had finally arrived. He would set his plan into motion that night.
Once Nine fell asleep, he would leave town via the mountain road. Once
in Calvard, he would be traveling by car, and he had already arranged
for a rental to take him up north to a certain city. Once he arrived, he’d
promptly set off for Liberl via one of the international airship routes that
regularly departed from the city. He had yet to decide what to do after
that point. He could stay a night or two in Liberl, or perhaps head over
to Leman. In any case, he needed to get as far away from his current
location as possible.
He may have been in the lowest rung of the organization and had little
idea what went on among its upper echelons, but he was determined to
show them all that he was capable of casting off the shackles they had
bound him with.
“Caaaw! Caaaw!”
His rising determination was interrupted by a crow flying into the
room. It made a few circles in the air before landing on the table.
“What the—”
Taking a closer look at the bird, Three noticed a specific crest adorning
one of its legs. As he did, his face twisted into a grimace. It could only
mean one thing—this was the method the overseer used to communicate.
“Now? He wants to meet now?”
It hadn’t even yet been an entire day since Three had delivered his
report.
“The briefing for the next mission, maybe?”
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Even as he said the words, he was gripped by an indescribable sense
of dread and anxiety. However much he wanted to simply ignore the
summons, it was not a luxury he could afford. The only chance his plan
had of succeeding was if he was able to put a good amount of distance
between himself and his would-be pursuers before the overseer realized
what had happened. Were Three to ignore a direct order, however, the
organization would immediately recognize it as an act of rebellion...one
that would inevitably lead to his death.
Mentally preparing himself for another encounter—one he could not
avoid—Three set out for the meeting location.
The rendezvous point was the foot of a small hill deep within the
mountains—the same site he had been just that morning, in fact. There
remained no trace of the ominous, eerie stillness that pervaded the place
before, however. Bathed by the light of the setting sun, the weathered
boulders seemed wreathed in brilliant flames from a distance.
Three arrived to find two figures already waiting for him. The first
was the overseer, draped in the same tattered robe as usual. The thought
occurred to Three that it made the man look more the part of the Hermit
Arcana than it did the Emperor.
At the man’s side stood a young girl carrying a large stuffed bear—
Nine. Her attire was more or less the same as what she wore on the
Halldor mission, with a few alterations to make it more functional and
mobile. Her presence there did not cause any alarm for Three. After all,
if they had been called to be briefed on their next mission, it was only
natural she would be summoned as well.
Something felt...different, however. Three couldn’t put his finger on
why, but anxiety began gripping his chest.
“So you’ve arrived,” the overseer said as Three approached.
“Yes. What is my task?”
The initial exchange was the same as it always was. What happened
afterward, however, was decidedly not.
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“Make your appeal.”
“My...appeal?” Three said slowly, the anxiety in his chest rising.
“I have received a report detailing your treachery from Nine of
Swords.”
“I don’t—” Three stammered.
He was at an utter loss for words. He had calculated each and every
outcome that could potentially happen, going over the steps in his head
time and again...and the absolute worst one possible was now playing
out right before his eyes. A wave of despair washed over him. Could
this really be happening again? Had Nine betrayed him, just like Ace?
It wasn’t possible, Three thought. He hadn’t told her a thing. He knew
that their relationship was strictly professional and he could not—under
any circumstances—trust her. That was just how partnerships in the
organization worked. How could she have known? It didn’t make any
sense.
“There’s been some kind of mistake!”
Three attempted to defend himself, knowing full well it was a futile
endeavor.
“You can’t talk yourself out of this, S... No, Three of Swords.”
Nine finally spoke, but her usual sleepy demeanor was nowhere to be
found. Instead, her voice was crisp, her eyes alert. She removed a scrap
of paper from within her bear and showed it to Three.
“This is your ticket for an airship voyage to Liberl. The one you
booked for noon tomorrow.”
Three felt the ground fall out from under him. Amidst his shock, a
small part of him wanted to yell out that the ticket was fake—that HE
had the real ticket. But to do so would be tantamount to suicide.
Nine continued speaking, as though directly responding to Three’s
unspoken questions.
“The ticket you have in your possession is counterfeit. I swapped it
for the genuine one while you weren’t paying attention.”
Fresh from completing a mission that utilized this very same kind of
forgery, Three now found himself the victim of the exact same trick.
“By the way, the name you used to acquire this ticket was Rhines
Foghert, student of Jenis Royal Academy, correct?” Nine continued.
“That’s the same name you used for your false ID on one of our missions
last year. That would mean you’ve been planning this for quite some
time, wouldn’t it?”
Despite the immediate threat to his life, Three couldn’t help but admire
Nine’s genius, strangely enough. Three decided he wouldn’t even try to
come up with an excuse. Nine had clearly seen right through his plan.
She’d seen right into his mind, really. There was just one part he didn’t
understand. Even if it was her duty to sell him out like this... Even if she
was a genius... He had been so cautious and prudent in every step of his
plan, yet it had all been laid bare—seemingly without a trace of effort.
How the hell had this happened?
“I take that expression to mean you’re trying to puzzle out just how
your entire plan was exposed,” Nine said, a slight smile playing at the
corners of her lips.
It was clear to Three she was toying with him now. Mocking him.
“You do realize I’ve been watching you the whole time we’ve been
partners, right? You’ve been my only target, right from day one.”
Her tone was merciless, her words dripping with thinly veiled venom.
“Yes, I’ve been watching you, Three. Inspecting. Observing. The only
real challenge was remaining patient as I waited for you to slip up and
finally show your true colors. It’s been that way since the moment I
became your partner.”
Three struggled to wrap his mind around what Nine was saying.
“The fact is, you did attempt to betray the organization. But even if
you hadn’t, I would have falsified whatever I needed in order to ensure
your demise.”
She continued to speak, leaving nothing unsaid, despite the overseer’s
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presence. With each word, Three felt more and more baffled. He could
understand her observing him to the degree that their job required, but
where was this malicious hatred of hers coming from? She’d felt this
way from the start? Why?
The overseer, who had been silent for some time, let out a low, derisive
laugh.
“I take it you have yet to figure it out? Who she is, I mean.”
Three could not, for the life of him, figure out what this was supposed
to mean. He looked over at Nine, searching for some sort of clue. All he
was met with, however, was a glare of pure hatred—one that made him
shudder in fear. He had never seen her look that way before.
“Do you remember Ace of Swords? Your former partner?” she began,
before her voice gained a measured, deadly weight to it. “The one you
murdered? He was my brother.”
Three’s world began spinning. He started to feel violently ill. His
senses dulled. His mind went blank. It became hard to breathe, as though
he were being pulled to the bottom of the sea, the air crushed out of his
lungs by its unrelenting pressure.
“Now, after all this time, I can finally avenge his murder.”
Three barely heard Nine’s words as his head swam with thoughts. Ace
was Nine’s brother? She had known everything from the start? She had
been biding her time, hiding her true intentions from the moment they’d
first met. Always keeping a watchful eye for a suitable opportunity to
arise. An opportunity to claim her vengeance.
Three stood there dumbfounded, as though he had lost the ability to
speak entirely.
“I see no need for you to sputter through an excuse,” the overseer said,
reading the shock clearly written across Three’s face, “We have all the
facts we need. You will be purged from the organization. As per our
rules, your partner, Nine of Swords, will now end your life.”
Hearing the overseer’s words, Nine stepped forward. “If you wish
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for assistance in this task,” he said, turning to her, “you will not be
penalized. The reward will remain the same. The only condition is that
you must be the one to deliver the final blow. Once you have eliminated
him, your obligations will be cleared. Though I admit, the idea of losing
such talent pains me.”
The reward. The right to one’s freedom, gained by uncovering and then
executing a partner who had betrayed the organization. The yearning for
this freedom had dominated Three’s existence for years, and now Nine
would be the one to gain it—in exchange for his life.
“Allow me the honor of doing it alone,” she responded, “I will avenge
my brother’s death with my own hands.”
She took another step forward, producing a number of poisoned
needles from inside her bear. Without a moment’s hesitation, she
launched them at Three.
He instinctively drew his sword and batted the needles out of the air.
The combat tactics that had been drilled into him dictated he close the
distance between them, yet he didn’t take so much as a single step.
His parry was purely reflexive, programmed into his mind through
years of combat. He had no intention of truly fighting back. Perhaps it
was partially because he didn’t want to hurt her. More than anything,
however, it was because he knew there was no point in resisting. Even
if he did manage to best Nine, he would need to take on the Emperor
afterward. And he knew that was a battle he had no chance of winning.
Three simply accepted his fate was to die there and then, and there was
nothing he could do to change it.
Nine pulled out roughly twice as many needles as before and again
launched them at her former partner. In response, he automatically drew
his shortsword and used both blades to swiftly deflect them.
In Three’s mind, the thought slowly began to sink in—this was his
retribution for killing Ace. Nine leapt at him, closing the distance, and
began attacking with an even greater intensity.
Someone like me, Three thought, someone who slaughters a friend to
preserve his own life, doesn’t deserve freedom.
Someone like me doesn’t even deserve to live.
Nine continued her assault, attacking with both her needles and her
thread. Were this an ordinary situation, there was no chance she would
be a match for Three in a close-quarters fight. However, his heart was
not in the battle, causing a significant shift in the balance of power in
the fight.
Eventually, Nine managed to decisively gain the upper hand,
successfully looping her thread around Three’s neck.
I’ll die for her vengeance, he thought. Maybe that’s the only outcome
that makes sense. Maybe that’s the end I deserve.
Nine deftly moved her fingers and the steel collar tightened around
Three’s neck.
“This is the end,” she said in a flat, frigid tone.
Three knew what would happen next. He closed his eyes, choosing to
await his end in silence.
But the cold embrace of death did not come.
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M
y mother died soon after I was born. From that point, it was
just me, my older brother, and our dad. As far back as I can
remember, my dad was a monster. He took the mira Mom left us and
used it entirely for himself, spending each day drinking it away. He
made no effort to put it to good use—to do anything that might help
our family. And when he was in a bad mood, what little safe haven we
had was violently wrested away. My brother acted more like a parent
to me than Dad ever did. Whether at home or out somewhere else, he
always protected me. I really hated that house, but I always felt like it
was bearable when he was there by my side. Those days didn’t last for
long, however.
I was still quite young when the household ran out of money and Dad
decided to put us to work. There weren’t many options for a child to
earn much mira, though, and even between my brother and I, our income
barely made a scratch in the mounting debt.
One day, my brother vanished and Dad announced he had “let him
spread his wings.” In other words, he had abandoned him. It was at
that point that I stopped thinking of that monster as my family. Even in
such an awful situation, I still held on to the idea that my brother would
come back to me one day. That meant my only option was to stay there
until he did.
Three long years later, I finally received a letter from him. He wrote
that he was in a miserable place, but that he was managing to stay
alive. I was able to send him a reply via the same method, thrilled
to have a connection with him once again. I eventually found out he
was being forced to work as a killer for a shadowy society called “the
organization.” The things he said he had to do were awful. Inhuman.
Just from reading his words, I could feel his pain as though it was my
own. He said that the organization was nightmarishly strict and that it
was only thanks to his partner that he was able to send me letters in the
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first place.
My brother wrote a lot about his partner, describing him as a true
friend—almost like a younger brother. This was the only topic where
I saw his writing soften—where he seemed happy. Naturally, I found
myself wanting to meet this person. But that was impossible and I knew
it. I couldn’t even meet with my own sibling, let alone his partner in
some secret assassin cabal.
We continued exchanging letters like this for some time, but even that
came to an end. The household ran out of mira again and I knew what
was coming. I could tell it would soon be my turn to leave. I wrote my
brother, telling him as much. He wrote back, telling me that he and his
partner had decided to escape the organization. I could sense from his
words just how resolved he was to do it. He followed his declaration
with a promise to come for me—to get me out of that hellhole of a home.
What followed, however, at the very end of his letter, was a grim note.
“If this escape somehow ends in failure, I’m going to prioritize
my partner’s life over my own. If it comes down to it, I’ll sacrifice
everything to make sure he at least gets out of here. You can trust him.
If anything happens, you can rely on him to help.”
That was the last letter I ever received from him. In the end, he never
came back for me, and our dad kicked me out, just as I thought he would.
He had become a slovenly mess. From the look of it, he had gotten
himself addicted to some especially nasty substances—the kind that
tend to quickly drain one’s finances. I knew they were destroying him
physically as well, but I had stopped caring long ago. I was done with
that disgusting scumbag I once called my dad.
I used an intermediary to secure an opportunity to join the organization.
It was right as I was entering training that I learned of my brother’s
death. I was told he was killed by his own partner. It was then my
world began to fall apart. I threw myself headlong into my training, not
thinking of anything else. I was distraught and trying to escape reality
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however I could. I ignored everyone around me, and even myself. I let
my soul slip into hibernation and fully assumed the role of one of the
organization’s tools.
During the day, I would follow orders, not thinking for myself. But
then night would come, and I’d have nothing to distract me. My mind
would be tormented by thoughts of my brother’s passing. The realization
that I was now truly alone in the world shook me—as did the notion that
my hands would soon be irreversibly stained with blood. Once the fear
set in, there was no escaping it and I gradually lost the ability to sleep
properly. The body does have a limit, of course, and I’d eventually fall
unconscious for about an hour a night. Two, if I was really lucky. But it
wasn’t sleep—not really. It was far too shallow for me to physically or
mentally recover much, and what little rest I did get was plagued with
nightmares. Even after I had woken up, those bizarre, horrid sensations
remained...
A year passed like this, with no improvement whatsoever. Despite
that, I was able to graduate from the factory at an exceptionally fast
pace. That was when I finally had a chance to meet him: the boy who
had fought alongside my brother as his partner. He had just finished his
own “reeducation”—a consequence of betraying the organization. As
fate would have it, we were assigned as partners.
He was the one who had stolen my brother from me, so I was resolved
to despise him from the moment we met. I quietly kept a close eye on
him, observing each and every one of his movements.
Before long, though, something unexpected happened. Perhaps all of
my pent-up fear and exhaustion had finally boiled over; perhaps it was
just my instincts telling me the truth I had been ignoring. Whatever the
reason, one day, we were out on a mission, and I found myself able
to sleep when I was next to him. I mean actually sleep. Deeply and
soundly, for the first time in an entire year. There was something about
his presence that gave me a sense of security. It wasn’t unlike how I
remembered feeling being next to my brother, strangely enough.
When I woke up from this much-needed rest, so many things came
rushing back. Suddenly, without warning, I found myself bawling. And
as those tears came pouring out, the chains that had sealed away my
heart slowly began to loosen. I started feeling human again, I could feel
my emotions for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
As soon as he saw me crying, the boy quickly came over to console me,
but that just made me sob harder. I quickly discovered my new partner
really was the person my brother wrote so fondly about. Blunt and a little
awkward, but overall a deeply kind person and a very thoughtful partner.
Despite being shackled to the organization and forced to kill for years,
he had yet to fully surrender his humanity. He did seem to be bearing
a great sorrow—one far more intense than anything my brother had
described. I could tell he wasn’t the kind of person capable of betraying
and murdering a friend to ensure his own survival.
Given my brother’s letter, it wasn’t hard to work out what had really
happened. After making their escape, the two were backed into a corner,
and their prospects were grim. Rather than both of them being killed, it
was better that at least one of them survived. The only way for that to
happen was for one to kill the other—to gain forgiveness in the eyes of
the organization.
My brother knew his partner would reject the idea outright, and
that even if he did accept it, he would insist on playing the part of the
sacrifice. I was absolutely sure of that much. That’s why my brother
ended up feigning betrayal in order to get his partner to fight back and
ultimately kill him. It was a plan that would spare his partner’s life, but
also deeply scar him in only the way an unexpected betrayal could.
From that point on, being near him was the only way I was able to feel
secure enough to sleep. And sleep I did, every chance I got. Midday,
during our missions... If there was even the slightest opportunity, I was
out like a light. After all, I needed to catch up on the year of rest I had
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been robbed of. It was a truly surprising turn of events for me, to say
the least.
I soon learned the boy was tormented by constant nightmares. I
imagined the incident with my brother played a big role. There were so
many moments where I saw how he was suffering and wanted to tell
him the truth. But I would always stop myself at the last second, telling
myself the time wasn’t right.
Our missions occasionally called for performances of a sort to deceive
onlookers. He was always pretty terrible at it. It was hard to say why
exactly that was, though. His movements were fine enough, as were
his facial expressions. The factory emphasized all those things in its
teachings, so he had received ample instruction there. It was just that
he always seemed to overdo things—or drastically underdo them. I
wondered if it may have had something to do with the unshakeable
seriousness he always seemed to have about him. It could be a real
problem sometimes, even to the point where he would become more of
a liability than an asset. Any onlooker with half a brain would be able
to tell something was less than genuine about his performances. I came
to the conclusion he was just naturally bad at deceiving others. That’s
why I had to keep my plans from him—to prevent his terrible poker face
from giving us away.
He’d been earnestly working on his escape for a very long time. I, of
course, understood the immense difficulty of his task, and why he had
to keep it to himself. Still, it made me a bit sad that he never spoke to
me about it. He was in a precarious position, given that the organization
still had its doubts about him. I wasn’t about to do anything to put him at
risk, of course. But his shaky acting alone could very well have led to the
organization seeing through his carefully laid scheme. If that happened,
it would be the end of him, no question about it.
The situation hadn’t quite reached that point yet, but I knew it was
only a matter of time before it did.
After the Halldor Baarn mission had wrapped up, I went to make my
report. The man I reported to had an aura unlike anything I’d ever felt.
He was the evil monster who managed the two of us. The organization’s
overseer, the Emperor. He was the one forcing us to kill. His face
was always obscured by a robe, but it failed to mask the malice that
overflowed from him. That day, he had a quiet, deadly exuberance about
him, like a hawk that had locked onto its prey. There was no mistaking
it. I knew he had caught on to my partner. He knew he intended to betray
the organization again. I knew he would gleefully purge him when the
time came and that time was getting closer with each passing day.
If that’s how things were going to be, I told myself, I would just have
to get ahead of them and put my own plan into motion. The Emperor’s
intentions were obvious. Aware of the cruel history my partner and
I shared, he had made us partners in a bid to slowly push me toward
revenge. He knew I’d eventually break and sell my partner out, forcing
him to go through another bitter betrayal. The Emperor was looking
forward to watching it all unfold. We were both tools of the organization
and the personal playthings of the Emperor’s.
So I decided to give him exactly what he wanted to see.
Once I’d finished my mission report, I told the Emperor of my
partner’s intent to betray the organization. I then shared my plan to
lure him to a specific place, where I would then eliminate him. I gave a
detailed explanation, making it as enticing as possible for the Emperor.
It was easy enough to gain his consent. Even with his face hidden under
his cowl, he could hardly contain the excitement in his voice over the
coming slaughter.
The laugh that escaped his throat was a sound so vile, it still haunts
me to this day.
Later that evening, my partner arrived at the designated location: the
base of a hill deep in the mountains. At first, he was horribly shaken
by the realization that he’d been betrayed again. When he learned who
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my brother was, though, his face changed. I watched his surprise turn
to despair, which in turn shifted to absolute acceptance of his fate. To
call what I saw “heart-wrenching” didn’t do it justice.
I focused my efforts on giving him the most vicious glare possible, one
equal parts mocking and murderous. I came up with the foulest, most
malicious things I could bear to say, trying to cut him to his very core.
After all, the Emperor was standing right next to me, and if I was to be
convincing, I couldn’t afford even the slightest hesitation.
I stepped forward. I was going to eliminate him. I shifted closer to my
partner, in order to facilitate my thread attacks—or so I made it appear.
My true objective was to put some distance between myself and the
Emperor. Once I had my thread around his neck, the battle was as good
as over. From there, I knew I could end his life with the flick of a finger.
“This is the end.”
I meant those words from the bottom of my heart.
A transparent cord ran through the center of the web of thread under
my control. Manipulating this cord allowed me to set off a chain reaction
that twisted it into a complex spiral shape I would often use to trap
distant foes during missions.
Fully focused on watching his toys in the throes of bloodthirsty
vengeance, it was the Emperor who had relaxed his guard the most.
Right at the climax of our battle, I seized the opportunity, and with
perfect timing, I was able to ensnare the unwitting Emperor, leaving
him shackled and immobile.
The key was the transparent cord. It may not have had the same cutting
power as steel thread, but it was more than twice as strong. Even so, I
couldn’t count on it to hold the Emperor for long.
Without a moment’s delay, I summoned all my strength to pull on
another cord. A low rumble sounded out, and a section of the rocky hill
collapsed, dropping a torrent of rubble below. I had taken my time to find
the perfect location—one with brittle bedrock that I could have break
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away on cue. The stones roared and tumbled in a huge wave, hurtling
down toward the Emperor. In the middle of it all was a giant boulder
more than ten arge across.
Time seemed to slow as it fell directly down at the Emperor’s head,
the thunder of the rock slide drowning out all other sound.
Finally it all came crashing down.
The aftermath looked as though a catastrophic earthquake had just
taken place. The Emperor had taken a direct hit from a massive boulder.
There was no way he could have survived that. Even if he somehow
had, he was now buried alive. My partner looked on in confusion, still
processing what had just happened.
“S!” I cried out, finally able to use the name I preferred to call him by.
I ran over to him and buried my head in his chest. This was where I felt
the most safe—by his side. I nuzzled up against him, holding him tight,
never wanting to let him go. I had never hugged him before then—I had
always been too afraid to do so.
“I’m so sorry I said those horrible things...” I sobbed, “I’m sorry I
couldn’t tell you the truth...”
There was so much more to explain, but those were the things I wanted
to say to him most. Even though he was still reeling from everything
that had just happened, he was still kind enough to hold me close and
try to calm me down.
“Nine, what in the world—”
Before he could finish his sentence, something I never predicted
happened. The small mountain of fallen rocks and boulders shifted
slightly. Pebbles began to rise up into the air. It was slow, but
unmistakable.
“What’s happening...?”
Dumfounded, all we could do was look on in confusion.
“Is it some kind of space-element art? There’s no way...” I mused
aloud.
No, that didn’t seem right. Perhaps it was some kind of device that
functioned the same way as an airship’s anti-gravity components? I
didn’t understand what was happening. I just sat there, staring blankly,
my mind racing for an explanation. Before I could reach one, however,
my partner spoke, his voice steeped in panic.
“That’s the overs—the Emperor’s power!”
“But...that would mean...”
It meant the Emperor was still alive.
More and more rocks began floating upward, taking their place among
the ever-increasing collection gently balanced in the air.
“Nine! We need to move!”
I continued to sit there, absolutely at a loss on what to think. Three
grabbed my hand and we set off at a sprint.
We were able to cover a good amount of distance before we heard
what sounded like a massive explosion behind us. We turned to see
boulders and rocks of all sizes being flung upward into the sky, like a
volcano erupting before our eyes.
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T
hree and Nine ducked into a mountain cave on the outskirts of
Luzent. They had fled from the Emperor as fast as their legs could
carry them and were now completely out of breath. As they sat there
together, Nine told Three everything she had kept from him up till
then. She told him about Ace, about herself, the details of her plan,
and finally, what Ace’s true intentions were on that night three years
ago.
At the start, Three occasionally chimed in or asked questions, but as
the conversation went on, he fell silent. By the end, his head was hung
so low that Nine couldn’t see his expression.
He had been utterly convinced that his friend—his one true friend—
had betrayed him, when in reality, Ace had sacrificed his life to ensure
Three would survive. And as thanks for that incredibly selfless act, Three
had not only killed him, but had spent the past three years despising
his memory. Then came his sister, risking her life to save her brother’s
killer.
Three felt his chest tighten up as a wild mix of emotions ran through
his head, threatening to overpower him. He was grateful for being
fortunate enough to have two people in his life—Ace and Nine—who
he could fully trust. At the same time, he felt a bottomless well of anger
burst up. Anger at himself, the pathetic excuse for a human being that
he was.
Battered by his storm of emotions, his breathing became increasingly
ragged.
“S? Are you crying?”
Nine looked on in concern, having finished her story. She didn’t need
a response, however. Three’s pained silence spoke volumes.
“I’m fine,” he said, returning to his usual blunt tone.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Nine asked.
“I said I’m fine.”
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Despite his words, Three’s head still hung low.
“You’re an awful actor, but you’re an even worse liar when you’re
not performing, you know that?”
Three sunk down to his knees. Nine moved over to him, taking his
head in her hands. She began gently ruffling his hair, like a mother
comforting a child.
“Everything’s okay now,” she murmured gently. “It’s all okay.”
“But I...I...” Three stammered, his voice growing weak and hoarse.
The last bits of Three’s facade broke down, overwhelmed by Nine’s
kindness, and he relented at last. Nine was younger than Three and
definitely looked the part, but in that moment, she showed an almost
motherly level of understanding and compassion. For someone like
Three, who grew up without that warmth, it was his first time being
comforted by someone—his first time feeling the warmth of family.
“I know how strong you’ve had to be, S. I know how hard it’s been.
For so long... But it’s okay now. I promise.”
No longer able to hold his emotions back, he finally broke down. A
lifetime’s worth of tears came flooding out of his eyes all at once.
“I’m... I’m such a wretched excuse for a—” he sobbed, no longer able
to control his voice in the slightest.
Hot tears poured down his cheeks, staining the cool floor of the cave.
“That’s not true. You know that’s not true,” Nine said softly,
continuing to run her fingers through his hair.
“Why am I still alive? Why isn’t Ace here instead?”
He weakly slammed his fist against the ground in frustration.
“Not another word of that. I won’t hear it. You’re the one who’s been
there for me the past few years. You, S.”
“But it’s because of me that Ace—”
“Listen. That just means you need to fight twice as hard. You’re living
for him, too, now.”
“I... I...”
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Three’s words failed him as he was overtaken by sobbing. His years
of pain and suffering pouring out of him.
After some time, Three was able to calm himself down somewhat and
regain his composure.
“I’m here for you, so you don’t have to cry,” Nine told him. “But if
you ever want to, then that’s okay, too.”
“So which is it, then?” Three retorted, his detached demeanor creeping
back.
He suddenly became aware of the fact he was in her arms and
hurriedly pulled away, immediately shifting the conversation back
toward exchanging information in an attempt to mask his sudden
embarrassment.
They finished catching up and turned their attention to their current
predicament.
“So the overseer had figured me out. He knew I was going to try to
make a run for it. And that’s why you moved to strike first—in order to
outmaneuver him,” Three thought out loud.
“That’s right. I’ve been watching the whole time, waiting for the
perfect opportunity to take him down.”
“I wish you’d told me beforehand.”
“And let you spoil the element of surprise with your awful acting
skills?” Nine gave a wry grin. “Yeaaah, I don’t think so.”
Three’s face scrunched up a bit. Both Nine and the Emperor had caught
on to his plan, so there was little room to defend himself in that regard.
“I chose the moment he’d be the most distracted,” Nine continued,
switching to a serious expression. “My timing was perfect, and my
preparations were more than enough. But despite all that...”
Despite everything—despite being buried under a pile of massive
boulders—the Emperor was still very much alive. No matter how much
she thought, Nine simply couldn’t figure out how it was possible.
“It’s likely his power at work,” Three said. He had said the same thing
earlier, right as they took off running.
“What exactly is his power?” Nine asked.
“I’m fairly certain he can control gravity somehow,” Three said. “He
did something similar when Ace and I fought him three years ago.”
Three wrenched open a bitter, painful memory and began relaying
what he remembered to Nine. He and Ace had been able to fend off the
first two pairs of assailants sent after them by the organization—but then
they had come to face the Emperor. Even with the element of surprise
on their side, even when they coordinated their attacks perfectly, facing
him proved exceptionally difficult. They found their bodies heavy and
clumsy, and their movements lacked precision and skill. The Emperor,
on the other hand, was nimble as could be, almost inhumanly so, and
the two were quickly overpowered.
“So, what do you think?” Three looked at Nine, awaiting her input.
“There was no sign of him starting any cast or charge up, so I doubt
he’s using arts,” she said, her brow furrowed in thought. “As for a
portable gravity manipulation device small enough for a single person
to carry and conceal, well...given modern technology, it’s seriously hard
to imagine. He might have an artifact, or something like it. An avalanche
couldn’t kill him and he has enough precise control to be able to move
individual stones and boulders...”
Nine scratched her head in frustration.
“Rrgh... This sucks. We really don’t have a lot to go on here.”
She paused, thinking a moment more, and then continued.
“In any case, unless something major changes, he’s too powerful for
us. Any attempt at a direct attack is going to result in our deaths.”
They fell silent for a time, until Three spoke up, a grave expression
on his face.
“If the time comes when we have to choose, we’re going to prioritize
your life, Nine. You need to be the one to ki—”
“STOP IT!” Nine silenced Three with an outburst of pure emotion,
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far more raw than her usual self.
“But then at least you’d be able to—”
“If you die, I’m going right after you!” she shouted. “I’ll do it myself,
if I have to!”
The calm, motherly figure from before was nowhere to be seen. Nine
was in a frenzy now, almost like a child throwing a tantrum. Regardless
of her tone, however, her words were heartfelt and earnest.
“I can’t go back to not being able to sleep.” Her voice dropped to a
whisper. “I can’t go back to being alone.”
The weight of her feelings was clear to Three. Seeing this, he let out
a short sigh.
“Then you have my word. No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”
“That’s not what I’m asking for!”
“Okay, you’re right,” Three said, taking a deep breath, “Then I promise
that we’ll survive this. We’ll get through it together.”
Nine looked at Three with imploring, almost pleading eyes.
“You swear?”
“I swear,” he said. “Now, if we’re going to have any chance at all,
we’ll need to do everything perfectly.”
The rock slide was massive enough that despite the fact that he survived
it, it was hard to imagine the Emperor was completely unscathed. If they
tried to flee now, the organization would quickly find them again, and
they would have to contend with the Emperor at his full strength.
The pair knew if they were going to make a move, now was the time.
“Let’s do it, then! We’ll take him out!”
To Be Continued
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T
hree and Nine returned to the hill. Or, more accurately, where the
hill used to be. It was now completely unrecognizable. A sizable
chunk of it was gone, having been strewn about the area in the form of
countless bits of rubble.
The Emperor stood right where they had left him, seemingly unfazed.
As Three and Nine had surmised, he had sustained at least some manner
of injury. Nothing major, but his ever-present robe, under which he had
hidden his face, had been reduced to little more than a shredded cape.
Underneath, he wore a gold helmet bearing a crown design. In his
hand, he carried a golden scepter with a spherical tip, and his body
was covered in golden armor. The word “ostentatious” was insufficient
to describe his heavily-gilded countenance. Everything about him
suggested both needless grandeur and wicked condescension.
“I knew you would return. You two aren’t complete fools, after all,”
the Emperor called out to them.
Three and Nine remained silent as they slowly approached.
“So, have you decided? Which of you two will gain the organization’s
forgiveness?”
Three and Nine turned to each other and nodded. Three removed his
hand from his sword, leaving it sheathed. Three knelt down and closed
his eyes, showing acceptance of what was to come. In response, Nine
pulled out some of her poison needles and silently launched them at
Three’s neck—or at least, that’s how she made it appear. At the last
second before the needles parted from her fingers, she deftly altered their
trajectory, sending them speeding toward the Emperor instead.
The envenomed projectiles whizzed perfectly through the air as ever.
However, as they neared their intended target, they suddenly curved
downward sharply, plummeting harmlessly to the ground.
“Very well. I hear your answer loud and clear,” the Emperor
proclaimed, looking up at the pair, “You both wish to die today.”
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“Not a chance!” Nine called out, throwing another volley of needles
directly at the Emperor. Their trajectory suddenly shifted again—this
time upward.
From his kneeling position, Three quickly shifted his stance and
pushed forward off the ground with all the power he could muster in his
legs. He launched himself at the Emperor, breaking into a full-on charge.
“We’ve had enough! You’re the one meeting their death today!”
Three began slashing away at his target with incredible speed. His
lightning-quick strikes grew slow and sluggish as soon as they neared
the Emperor, however. With his assailant’s speed so drastically curbed,
the man was able to use his golden scepter to effortlessly bat aside the
boy’s assault.
In the same instant, Nine’s second set of needles changed direction
midair and began falling straight toward the Emperor. She had managed
to calculate the range of his gravitational field with just a single throw.
Once she understood its effect on projectiles, she was able to revise her
trajectory. Moreover, she had factored in the increased acceleration from
the higher gravity, meaning her needles would hit harder than normal.
Despite all that, however, her attack was neutralized by a flick of the
Emperor’s gilded arm. It was still not enough to penetrate his armor. It
was, however, more than sufficient to arouse his ire.
“You dare defy me? ME?!”
Livid, he swung his scepter downward. Three immediately reacted,
just barely managing to block the attack with his sword. Even so, the
impact alone threw him back several arge.
Three could feel his brain rattle in his skull from the force of the
blow—there was no way the Emperor’s physical strength and the weight
of the scepter alone could do that. It occurred to Three that there must
have been another way he was able to manipulate gravity.
“You will be purged,” the Emperor said in a low growl.
The same words Three had heard him say a few hours ago and three
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years ago. When the Emperor spoke like this, it was nothing less than
the arbitration of a death sentence. At the sound of those words, past
memories bubbled up in Three’s mind and an old terror began to grip
him. His legs grew wobbly, and he started to stagger.
One glance back at Nine was all it took for him to restore his resolve.
He forced himself back on his feet, reflexively snapping into a fighting
stance, and Nine continued to provide covering fire with her needles as
he resumed his assault.
Their approach proved no more fruitful than before. Even so, as Three
continued to fight under such grueling conditions, he slowly became
more capable. His understanding of his foe’s gravitational trickery
improved, and his strikes grew more swift and precise as a result. The
way his muscles intuitively reacted, the angle and speed at which he
swung his swords... He was slowly chipping away at the Emperor’s
overwhelming advantage. Though Three may not have enjoyed the
same powers of insight his partner possessed, his skills in close-quarters
combat were elite by even the most exacting of standards.
For her part, Nine’s cover was solid and unwavering. Realizing her
needles had no hope of piercing the Emperor’s golden plating, she had
instead begun aiming for gaps between its pieces. It was an incredibly
difficult task, but as she grew more accustomed to the disrupting effects
of the gravitational field, she was gradually getting closer. She began
weaving in offensive arts along with her volleys of needles in order to
keep the Emperor on his toes. Her attacks appeared simple enough for
her foe to deal with, but they still managed to pull his attention away
from Three, even if only for a moment.
The fight raged on, and after a bit of time, Three and Nine appeared
to have finally begun gaining the upper hand. Yet the Emperor did not
seem fazed in the slightest. His expression was unreadable beneath the
shadows of his helmet, but it was clear from his body language he still
believed himself fully in control of the situation.
Three managed to land the occasional strike, but even his swords
seemed to do little against the Emperor’s impossibly resilient armor.
In an attempt to land a heavier blow, Three launched himself into the
air, intending to let the gravity carry his swords downward as Nine’s
needles had. However, he found himself soaring up far higher than he
had intended. Impossibly so, as though he had suddenly sprouted wings.
His mark completely missed, he lost his sense of balance and began
tumbling through the air. He quickly realized it could only have been
due to more of his foe’s trickery.
“REDUCED gravity?!”
Expertly seizing the opening, the Emperor raised his scepter overhead,
then swiftly swung it downward. As if mimicking this motion, Three
suddenly dropped out of the air, thrown to the hard ground below like
a rag doll.
“Gaaah!”
The air knocked out of his lungs, Three struggled to catch his breath,
spitting up mouthfuls of blood in between gasps.
“Get out of the way! He’s not done!”
Saved by Nine’s frantic warning, Three just barely managed to roll
out of the way. A split second later, the scepter slammed down into
the ground where he had just been. As the gravity-enhanced scepter
connected with the rocky ground below, it let out a powerful blast,
leaving a crater in its wake.
“S!”
The resulting shockwave launched Three to the side, knocking him to
relative safety. Had he taken a direct hit, he would have been completely
pulverized. Though dazed, he was still aware enough to signal to Nine
that he was okay. He forced himself to his feet.
The battle had completely changed. The Emperor had begun
manipulating gravity levels on a constant cycle, and Three was forced
into a defensive position. Whenever he managed to get a handle on his
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foe’s barrage of attacks, he found the gravity level altered yet again,
forcing him to start back at zero. It was impossible for him to fight in
such ever-changing conditions.
The situation was taxing for Nine as well. She found herself forced
to constantly recalculate the field’s range and gravity value, severely
reducing the number of effective attacks she was able to launch.
Despite their bleak outlook, the two of them continued to hold
out. Even when pressured, Three served as an excellent vanguard,
consistently denying the Emperor any opportunities for a decisive strike.
Nine, meanwhile, continued to back him up flawlessly, acting with a
surgical precision that ensured no opening went to waste.
“S!” she called out to him as he leapt back, putting some distance
between himself and the Emperor, “I think I’ve figured something out.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Three waited for her to continue, keeping his guard up and watching
closely for any sign of attack from the Emperor.
“Have you noticed anything different from when you and Ace fought
him before? Was he carrying anything in his left hand back then?”
Three glanced at his foe’s left hand, seeing it empty. He thought back
to three years ago...
“Now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure he had an orb with him.
Purple, with a golden sculpture of a crow on it. The battle back then was
completely one-sided.”
“Just as I suspected,” Nine nodded.
Three had also sensed something was different, but had simply chalked
it up to the Emperor toying with them, as he didn’t consider them to be a
true threat to him. Factoring in what Nine had just pointed out, however,
cast things in a much different light.
“Oh? So you’ve realized?” The Emperor paused his onslaught, as
though in recognition of Nine’s keen observation.
“You see the implements he has on him now? I suspect at one point,
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he had four different artifacts that let him control gravity.”
“Four, huh?” Three said, taking note of the Emperor’s equipment.
“Right. A helmet with a crown motif that can increase or reduce the
overall level of gravity; armor that absorbs the force imparted by attacks
the moment they’re received; a scepter that sends out a devastating
gravitational wave when it makes contact with its target; and an orb
with a crow perched on it that allows its wielder to alter gravity on a
target-by-target basis.”
Nine paused her explanation for a moment as she looked defiantly at
the Emperor. The reason he had worn that tattered cloak was now clear.
If someone were to wield so many artifacts at once as he did, it would
be necessary to conceal them. Failure to do so would surely attract
unwanted attention from the church.
“Now that you mention it, this time around, he hasn’t been moving
faster while slowing us down at the same time,” Three said. “When we
fought him before, we couldn’t even touch him.”
It was true that in their fight against him, Three and Ace had been
struggling under different levels of gravity than the Emperor. There was
no doubt he was toying with them in the present, but at the very least,
both sides were battling under the same levels of gravity, constantly
shifting though they were. As such, the pair’s odds of winning were
much better this time around.
“I think he either lost the orb at some point, or it was destroyed—or
at least damaged—in the rock slide,” Nine explained.
The pair realized that if this were true, now was their best chance to
take down the Emperor, once and for all.
“A talented tool indeed.”
The Emperor’s voice was low, tinged with a hint of perverse delight.
“The artifacts I wear are collectively known as the Monarch’s Regalia.
I’m impressed you were able to analyze their capabilities in such a
limited amount of time. You, Nine of Swords, are truly outstanding.”
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“I don’t want your praise, you freak.”
Ignoring Nine’s retort, the Emperor continued on, his exhilaration
giving way to a violent savagery.
“But even the greatest tool is worthless if it will not submit to its
rightful place in my hands...”
His body began levitating, broken chunks of earth underfoot rising
upward with him. With all the force he could muster, he swung his
scepter into a nearby boulder.
“...and worthless tools must be disposed of!”
In that instant, the boulder shattered into shards of all shapes and sizes
that were sent rocketing toward Nine.
“Watch out!” Three cried out.
The shards flew like a salvo of bullets from a thousand different
guns—all of them pointed directly at one target. It was a grim sight,
not unlike a single soldier standing before the assault of an entire army.
Panicked, Three rushed into the line of fire. He brandished his swords
and did everything he could to prevent the shards from reaching Nine.
He deflected and broke what he could, using his body as a shield for the
rest. But there was a considerable distance between him and Nine—one
he could not cover easily. By the time he had leapt in the way, a great
many shards were already too far ahead.
Three was too late.
Nine had no realistic chance of avoiding the entirety of the attack, and
instead devoted her efforts to simply avoiding the worst of the pieces of
stone flying at her. There were far too many, however, and one managed
to slip through her defenses.
She suffered a direct hit to the abdomen, and a red mist sprayed from
her mouth as she crumpled to the earth.
To Be Continued
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“N
ine!”
Three ran over to her, his voice hoarse with agony and grief.
Her forehead, hands, legs...her entire body was stained with blood,
dripping from a thousand scratches and cuts. It was a fate far too cruel
for such a young girl. No matter how many times Three called out to
her, she didn’t respond. He had sworn to protect her. He had promised
himself...promised her. But now...
Three felt himself overcome by shame and regret.
I’m too weak, he thought to himself. Too weak to help anyone. Too
weak to save anyone.
As if to seize upon his distress, the Emperor spoke once more.
“So one of you made it. Now, be wise and stop this here. Deliver the
final blow and be spared—just as you did before.”
At those words, Three felt a creaking in his mind. It was harsh, like
the sound of metal scraping against metal.
“Surely a girl like her would derive a warped satisfaction from being
killed by the same one who took her brother.”
The Emperor’s mouth twisted into a perverse smile, the depravity in
his eyes clear even through the shadow cast by his helmet.
It was then that something snapped inside of Three.
“RRAAAGH! DIE!”
He exploded, as if the boundless rage coursing through his veins had at
last found an outlet. His legs and arms snapped into operation. A primal
rumble burst from his throat. His bones creaked, and his blood boiled.
Pure fury ignited his entire body, inciting it to action, and before he knew
it, he had launched himself at the Emperor. He unleashed a whirlwind of
attacks, his strikes faster and more powerful than ever before.
The Emperor met the charge head on, altering gravity as he went, but
Three adapted to each shift almost as fast as they came. His body was
running on pure instinct, honing his senses to a razor-sharp edge and
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giving him almost preternatural adaptability. The Emperor, on the other
hand, found himself working harder and harder to handle Three’s hail
of blows. He managed to block the oncoming strikes, but his attacker
showed no sign of slowing down.
“Like a wild dog,” the Emperor sneered. “A tool with a will of its
own is a useless thing, to be sure, but seeing you foaming at the mouth
like this is pathetic beyond measure! You truly are fated to die as you
lived—a mere THING!”
Even in the face of Three’s enraged onslaught, the Emperor had hardly
taken any damage at all. He still held all the cards. Three was little more
than an annoyance—like a flea biting a wolf.
Three’s thoughts bubbled back up to the surface. He found himself
remembering something Nine had said.
It was his natural sense of composure that allowed him to recall such
a timely memory—composure he did not possess three years ago. He
continued to let his anger drive his body but maintained a calm mind,
not allowing his thoughts to slip away in his rage. He could have stopped
himself at any time, but he found his rage beneficial and wielded it
ably, as though it was simply another weapon available to him. Three
himself was unaware of this, but such an ability to not only control one’s
emotions, but turn them into power, was rare indeed. It was a skill that
did not come easily to even the greatest warriors; yet Three had managed
to master such a complicated concept at his young age.
“...armor that absorbs the force imparted by attacks the moment
they’re received...”
That was how Nine had described the Emperor’s armor. Sure enough,
just as she described, no matter how many strikes Three launched,
nothing seemed to get through. It was then that realization dawned on
him.
If the armor was immune to external force, then what he needed to do
was induce internal force.
Anyone else may have given up at this point, but Three could scarcely
imagine a more suitable target for his unique skills.
He combined his blades into one, squaring off against the Emperor yet
again. The defining characteristic of Three’s weapons was their ability
to internally induce an arts-based explosion in their target. To do so, he
needed to strike the same point with each blade separately, and then a
third time in their fused form. By this point, he had already landed a
number of hits on the Emperor’s armor and, luckily for Three, a decent
amount of those hits overlapped. All that remained was the final step
in the process—making contact with those intersecting points using his
fused sword.
Three attacked the Emperor with the same rage and power as before.
This time, though, he failed to land a single hit. He was just a hair’s
breadth off every single time.
The first steps in his weapon’s process were relatively simple.
He simply needed to land a strike with each weapon, creating two
perpendicular lines that would paint a target for the orbment. The next
part, however, was far more difficult. He needed to use the fused blade
to hit the precise point where the two lines intersected. This was a much
smaller target area, making the task that much more demanding. Still,
Three was confident in his aim, and knew he had the dexterity to pull it
off. In spite of his skill and confidence, however, he continually found
himself failing to land the decisive hit.
The Emperor cackled in delight as he watched Three struggle. To him,
Three’s plight was nothing short of pure comedy.
“I know my tools inside and out,” he said, a dark grin spreading
across his face, “Your methods of attack, how your weapons work—I
understand these things even better than you.”
As if proving the Emperor’s point, Three’s next attack fell short as
well. The Emperor launched a counterattack with his staff, swung at
the perfect angle.
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Three had figured out his foe’s tricks. Right before each of his attacks
would land, the Emperor would make a subtle change to gravity. His
timing was exquisite, and the trick was executed in such a way that
Three had no time to correct the angle of his sword. Further, the gravity
wave emitted by the Emperor’s scepter did nothing at all when it failed
to connect, but if it did, the resulting damage would be enormous. Thus
far, Three had been able to evade or turn away each incoming swing,
but he knew it was only because the Emperor was allowing it.
He had yet to land a single effective attack, and the wear on both his
weapon and his own body was steadily mounting. The outcome of the
battle seemed clear, and by all appearances, there was nothing that could
change its course. Thanks to his impeccable defense, the Emperor was
nearly unscathed, whereas Three was barely holding on, looking more
and more like he could collapse at any moment.
In between clashes, a momentary calm settled over the battlefield. As
Three was weighing his options, a voice broke the silence. It was a lazy
drawl—one that Three had heard many times over the past year.
“Analysis complete.”
Nine struggled to her feet, looking as though she could fall back down
at any moment.
“How...?” The Emperor’s genuine shock escaped his mouth in a low
hiss.
“Nine! You’re okay!” Three exclaimed.
At once, he understood what had happened. Nine hadn’t fallen
unconscious—she had simply feigned doing so in order to analyze
the Emperor in secret. She had given Three no indication of her plan
whatsoever. After all, had she done so, the Emperor may very well have
caught on to her plan.
“Just fine,” she responded. “I used my thread to cushion the blow of
the boulders by shredding them into smaller pieces. In the end, the rocks
barely scratched me.”
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Judging by the amount of blood that covered her, it would have been
clear to anyone this was far from the truth, but the fact remained that
she was both alive and conscious.
Three disengaged from the Emperor and moved closer to Nine, making
sure to keep his eyes trained on his foe as he did so.
“There’s a moment where he’s unable to respond to anything,” she
explained, “That’s his power’s fatal weakness.”
“What do you mean?”
“His gravitational manipulation doesn’t require casting like an art
would, but after he uses it, there’s a period of time of about a second
before he’s able to use it again. That’s why he wasn’t able to immediately
prevent the falling rocks from burying him earlier.”
“But the way he’s changing gravity is so precise,” Three said, thinking
back on their battle. “How could he have managed that?”
“He was just reading your movement, S. He knows how you fight like
the back of his hand.”
“Wait, what?!” Three exclaimed, the surprise in his voice clear.
“It’s true,” Nine responded. “The way he manipulates gravity is
determined before you even start your swings. He knows you well
enough to straight up predict everything you’ll do.”
“Is that... Is that even possible?” asked Three, his mind racing.
“Sure is,” Nine continued. “And he’s not using an artifact for it, either.
His mind just works that quickly. He’s a total monster through and
through.”
The Emperor let out a low chuckle.
“A sound analysis, but it will avail you nothing. I know your techniques
inside and out. The same speed, the same power, the same angles. Each
and every time. There is no possible way you can undo years of the
habits we so painstakingly carved into you.”
“S,” Nine looked up at him, knowingly.
“Right,” he acknowledged. “Let’s end this.”
The duo nodded in agreement and turned to face the Emperor once
more. Three charged at him again, renewing his previous assault. He
raised his sword overhead, attacking at a high angle. The Emperor
dodged it effortlessly and sent forth a counterattack.
Their deadly dance continued as before, but as things were, both sides
knew where it would ultimately lead.
The Emperor sensed an incoming attack and prepared to manipulate
gravity. Just as he predicted, Three attacked a half-step faster, aiming
for one of the spots in his armor that had been previously marked. As the
sword raced toward its target, gravity shifted and the sword’s trajectory
was altered. Despite this, it somehow continued on its original path
regardless, as if the altered gravity had been predicted and compensated
for.
“Impossible,” the Emperor muttered under his breath. He hastily jerked
his body out of the blade’s trajectory, with hardly a second to spare.
Three’s movements had changed, somehow. As the Emperor mulled
the changing situation over, Three’s next attack came speeding in. The
Emperor again predicted the speed and trajectory, and manipulated
gravity accordingly. However...
BOOM.
A muffled explosion rang out, and the Emperor felt his armor crack
and pain course through his left arm.
BOOM.
“Wh-What?!”
Another flash.
BOOM.
His right leg was now damaged as well.
The Emperor was at an utter loss. Had Three managed to correctly
predict his spacial manipulation? How was he suddenly able to alter his
strikes to compensate for the gravity?
Had the analyzer been analyzed himself?
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Cursing Three’s name, the Emperor’s thoughts grew frantic.
As he desperately looked around for a clue, he realized what was
actually happening. He glimpsed a number of barely-visible cords
extending from Three’s body. Naturally, Nine stood at the other end,
controlling them. She wasn’t pulling him to and fro like a marionette,
but was instead nudging his attacks slightly, guiding his direction,
timing, and angle to create the perfect strike. The Emperor may have
been predicting Three’s attacks and making adjustments, but Nine was
doing the same to him in turn. It was her guidance that allowed Three
to score direct hit after direct hit.
Her superior intellect was, of course, a major reason why this was
possible, but her relationship with Three was their true secret weapon.
The two knew each other better than anyone in the world, which allowed
her to predict his reactions and movements with incredible accuracy.
She used her natural understanding of her partner to help him adapt his
combat style to fit the situation at hand. In that sense, the secret behind
the upper hand they had suddenly gained was as simple as could be.
“You little wench!” The Emperor let out an enraged growl laced with
bitter hatred. Neither Three nor Nine had ever seen him like this before.
He tried to launch the same rocky onslaught at Nine that he had before,
but found himself bereft of munitions.
He could not be sure when it happened, but at some point, the duo had
led him to a different part of the area—one where he could no longer
weaponize the terrain. With furious bloodlust, he lowered the gravity
near him and rushed at Nine.
“Finally,” she smirked, “I’ve been waiting.”
A giant boulder appeared in the air above the Emperor, likely due to
an art Nine had cast. The Emperor was unimpressed, however, at being
subjected to the same attack twice. This time around, it even lacked the
element of surprise. He easily shattered the incoming boulder with his
staff once it entered his area of reduced gravity.
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But it was this flippant display of arrogance that sealed his fate. As
the pieces of the boulder rained down around him, he found himself
face to face with a plush toy rabbit—one that had been hidden within
the boulder.
“No!” he exclaimed, knowing full well it was no mere toy. His
realization came too late, however. With a massive bang, the rabbit
detonated. Light and heat washed over the Emperor, and his legs buckled
under the force.
Just then, another explosion went off at his back. Three had landed a
solid hit on his chest armor, and the resulting blast had blown it clear
off his body.
“This is the end,” Three said, quietly.
The black-hearted Emperor’s armor had been destroyed, and Three’s
blade had found its bloody mark.
To Be Continued
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he Emperor had fallen to his knees, Three’s sword protruding from
his chest. He looked up at the sky and gave a dry, bitter laugh.
“Found some humor in your end, have you?” asked Three.
“To think you two would best me,” the Emperor said, his voice weak,
“Heh... I admit it. I underestimated you. You are, by far, the most
masterful tools I have ever had the pleasure of owning.”
“Enough! We’re not your tools any longer!” Three said, gripping his
sword, preparing himself to silence the Emperor forever.
So, he thought to himself, the moment to kill had come yet again.
The thing he hated most. The thing he would never grow accustomed
to. Things were different this time, given that the man who stole away
his humanity in the first place now sat at the end of his sword. But that
didn’t stop Three’s hand from trembling.
“S...” Nine said gently, moving closer. “We’ll do it together, okay?”
Her typically light and relaxed expression was now serious and sincere.
“...Okay,” Three responded.
This was it. The moment where the two would put their tragic past
to rest. Nine placed her hands on Three’s, steadying his weapon. Her
warmth abated his trembling ever so slightly. They moved to raise the
sword together. In response, the Emperor spoke once more.
“Every arge of your path thus far has been stained with blood, just
as the rest of your lives shall be. Your fates are immutable. Kill or be
killed... Control or be controlled... You will end up no different than I.
We will ever be one and the same.”
“You’re wrong,” said Nine, “We’re no longer anyone’s tools, and
we’ll never force anyone to be ours.”
“After this, we’re done,” said Three, “You’re the last person we’re
ever going to kill.”
The two took a deep breath and spoke in unison.
“Farewell.”
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◊
Off in some far-flung region of Calvard, a horse-drawn carriage
plodded along. Aside from trains, most terrestrial transportation had
long since switched to orbal cars, so such an old-fashioned mode of
travel was a rare sight to see. The more rustic method did have its certain
undeniable charm, however.
A boy drove the carriage, while a young girl of about the same age
lazed about within.
“It makes you wonder how he got that way,” the boy said, thinking
back to the Emperor’s face—the one that had been obscured by both
cloak and helmet. His appearance had been a poor fit for his monstrous
behavior. If anything, he had been rather handsome.
“Well, if you don’t mind rumors and hearsay, I might have an answer
or two for you.”
The girl’s response came from within the carriage, delivered in her
usual sleepy drawl.
“I’m listening.”
“Well...”
The girl’s story went something like this...
THREE & NINE: A TRAILS TALE
a boiling point. Violent voices grew louder and louder, eventually
resulting in a revolution.
The revolutionary army launched an assault on the royal palace and
forcibly converted the country into a republic, holding the new king
accountable for his father’s sins. Suddenly finding his life at risk, he
had no choice but to flee, leaving behind his country and his entire way
of life.
In a small country in some corner of the world, there once lived a
vile, oppressive king. His reign was tyrannical, his rule evil, and his
people lived in fear. One day, he died, and his son, the crown prince,
was enthroned. The prince—this new king—was, at his core, a kind
and gentle soul who strove to govern in a fair and just manner. He was
determined to avoid his father’s errors. But perhaps because they were
too accustomed to fear, no one met this new king’s ideas with an open
mind. Free assembly and speech had already been brutally suppressed
during his father’s reign, and the people’s rage had already reached
“You’re telling me this prince eventually became an overseer?” the
boy asked, his brow wrinkling in thought as he turned the story over in
his head.
“Who can say?” shrugged the girl, “I don’t know if a kingdom like
that even existed in the first place.”
The girl rolled over to continue dozing as the carriage bumped and
bounded its way along the road.
“Assuming this is more fact than fiction, then what?” the boy asked.
“He was too kind and lost control of his kingdom, so he developed a
powerful desire to control others? It’s hard to believe...”
The boy trailed off. He had no intention of giving the overseer even
a shred of sympathy, but strangely enough, he did find himself feeling
a little pity for the man.
The boy and girl fell silent for a few moments, the only sounds that
could be heard were the clopping of the horse’s hooves and the creaking
of the carriage.
“Umm...”
The boy broke the silence.
“What is it?” The girl raised her head from her nap. Her voice remained
as relaxed as ever, but the boy’s tone suddenly grew tense.
“Is there any chance you could...ever forgive me? For what I did—for
what happened between me and your brother?”
“No.”
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The girl’s response was swift and blunt.
The boy fell silent. He had no right to scorn her answer.
“Never,” she continued, “Because he was my brother, and I loved him.
He was the only real family I ever had. So...”
“So...?”
The girl paused for a moment. Her cheeks flushed red and then she
continued in a much louder voice.
“So if you want me to forgive you, you can’t ever leave me! We need
to stick together, through thick and thin! You and me! N and S!”
The boy smiled, his fear a moment ago having left him.
“Of course! We’ll always be there for each other. I’ll have your back
and you’ll have mine.”
The girl could barely contain the emotions swelling in her chest at this
point. Unfortunately for her, the boy continued talking.
“I’ll do my best to fill his shoes from now on. And that includes
making sure you get the education you need to grow into the best person
you can be.”
This was, in fact, not the answer the girl had been looking for.
“I’m not talking about education!” she exclaimed as she started
violently shaking the carriage in frustration.
“But what could be more important? Hey, calm down! This thing can’t
take too much abuse. It’s rickety enough as it is! If you make it fall apart,
we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”
The girl settled back down, still not fully satisfied with his response,
but resolved to leave things be for the moment.
The topic changed again.
“So, any ideas?” For the time being, their plan was to head to Liberl or
Leman, just as the boy had initially planned. But where to from there?
They had yet to give it much thought. They knew they would be pursued
by any number of people from the organization. Despite this, the two
knew that as long as they stuck together, they’d find a way to manage.
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For the moment, they reveled in the idea of an unknown future—a
new path to tread that was all their own.
“In any case, we’ll need to find some kind of work,” the boy said.
“Anything in mind?”
“Well,” he mused, a confident smile growing on his face, “when we
consider our skill set, how about something in theater?”
“Not on your life,” the girl swiftly retorted. “Think about it, S. You’re
a TERRIBLE actor.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad! And I’m sure a play would be way less
pressure than an assassination mission...”
A tad deflated, the boy sank back into his seat, but then threw out
another idea—one somewhat more plausible than the last.
“I know! How about we become bracers?”
“No way.” The girl rejected the idea again, but with a bit less bite than
before. “I’ve heard they get super busy. No sense escaping one grave
just to work yourself into another.”
There was also the question hanging in the air over whether the
Bracer Guild would even consider taking on people with the duo’s...
unique background. All things considered, however, it wasn’t the most
outlandish idea.
“Fine, fine. What’s your bright idea, then?”
“Me?” the girl yawned, “All I want to do is lay around in bed every
day. Just sleep, sleep, sleep.”
“You’re ridiculous,” the boy sighed. His face then lit up suddenly as
he remembered something.
“Oh, right!”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Names,” he said with a hint of excitement, “I just realized we haven’t
shared our real names with each other.”
“Oh, right. N is short for Nadia. That’s my real name.”
“Mine’s Swin.”
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“...Huh,” the girl said, hiding a small smile. “So S wasn’t too far off,
then. Pretty crazy coincidence.”
There was a good reason her nickname for him had been so close to
his real name: her brother had mentioned it in one of his letters. She
had known Swin’s name before their paths even crossed. After they
had worked together for a bit, she decided she wanted to call him by
something that resembled his actual name, rather than his organization
moniker. This, however, was something she intended to keep to herself.
“Well, in the end, you’ll always be S to me. And I’ll always be N to
you, right?”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
The carriage continued its slow roll forward, as did their conversation.
It was profound at moments, but was otherwise silly, lighthearted, and
most of all...free.
The boy’s name was Swin—S.
The girl’s name was Nadia—N.
Together, they were travelers.
Travelers discovering their newfound humanity.
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Published 2023
Story by:
Nihon Falcom Corporation
Localization by:
NIS America, Inc.
4 Hutton Centre Dr., Ste. 650,
Santa Ana, CA 92707
falcom.co.jp
NISAmerica.com
© Nihon Falcom Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
Licensed to and published by NIS America, Inc.