A Grand Dream (1)
The guards gathered there felt the world tilt every time Kuan took a step.
His pace was neither fast nor slow; in a way, the steps were almost pitiful.
"He's crawling."
It was like trying to keep your balance on a ship lashed by waves.
"Hmm."
Natasha smoothed her lips with an intrigued expression, while Pungjang looked annoyed.
Leader Yula said, "Block his approach."
Of all the murderous auras aimed around the hall, the strongest was focused on Pungjang.
"Yes."
Just as the ninety-nine swordsmen began to scatter like wind, Kido stepped forward first.
"Stop."
Kuan's step halted.
"The checkpoint toward Tormia? This area is off-limits to anyone without a security pass. Turn back."
You couldn't exactly hate Tormia for that.
"I have business at headquarters."
Kido glanced toward the Delta building and shook his head as he looked back at Kuan.
"In that case, we can't let you through. Once the holy war begins, no one is allowed entry."
Rai cut in. "He can go in. He's from Tormia's special unit and has an entry pass."
Kido pursed his lips. There was killing intent, but no personal hatred. Of course, if that aura turned hostile, it would be catastrophic...
If he really had an entry pass, maybe it would be safe enough to let him through.
"We must kill him."
Yula was adamant.
Pungjang, though not as close as Kido, still held the position nearest Uorin to gauge intentions.
That man is trouble for Her Majesty. This could be a good opportunity. Even if we cut him down here, the holy war won't be affected, Yula thought.
Kuan had crossed the line.
"I don't know why you're late, but this is a guarded area. You can't go through here."
"Then where do I go?"
"That's up to you. But this is the only way into Delta headquarters."
They planned to trap him by any means.
Knowing Yula's temperament, Kido looked at Kuan with pleading eyes.
"Go back. Please."
Kuan received that look without flinching. He lifted his gaze slowly and murmured, "Lucky me."
"Huh?"
The clown Pierrot—Initial Tilt.
Suddenly the ground pitched sharply toward Kuan, forming a slope of over seventy degrees.
At the same time, the guards exhaled counter-gravity.
"Grab him!"
Naturally falling was Natasha, Kido clung to the ground, and Pungjang shot forward like the wind, drawing his sword.
"You mustn't let him slip."
Kuan felt as if he were falling off a cliff; if they lost him even for an instant, it would be over.
The seventy-degree tilt flipped to the left.
"Damn it!"
North and south reversed again, and now the whole area spun in a huge circular rotation.
Only Kido, planted to the earth like a bound spirit, could track Kuan's movements.
"Phew! This is really weird."
Natasha, by contrast, seemed to be savoring the dizzying ride.
This wasn't easy. Using Initial Tilt on a single target made it easy for them to slip out of sight—
—but shaking off an entire guard force was another matter.
There were hundreds of swordsmen here, each among the kingdom's finest.
A member of Pungjang reported to Yula. "Captain, he might have some trick. If they move together, gaps could open in the guard…"
It was humiliating that an entire force could be led around by a single swordsman.
But he was that kind of man.
Kuan's image from his younger days—crawling along mountain paths with his Achilles tendon severed—flashed before some eyes.
Has he made it this far?
Suppressing the urge to applaud this lone swordsman, Yula gave the order. "Finish this at once. Deploy the death formation."
"Yes."
The hundred men of Pungjang crossed like a net and began to rotate around Kuan.
If they caught him, there wouldn't even be bones left to pick up.
It wasn't an exaggeration.
Yet Kuan's expression facing Kashan's finest swordsmen was colder than ever.
I'm only doing what I have to do, he thought.
He had refused the captaincy of the guards because protecting someone else didn't suit him.
I'm a clown.
A Pierrot who would do any foolish thing to make her smile.
What had he been expecting? Still human—had he allowed himself the delusion that he could be with her?
He let out a quiet chuckle.
Within the tightening darkness of the encirclement, he recalled Shiina's face.
"Laugh."
It was amusing.
"Strike!"
A hundred blades whipped up a gale and shredded the ground where Kuan had stood.
The tilt snapped back to normal, and Pungjang reformed their lines.
Kido's face went blank.
"He's gone."
They hadn't seen it.
For a moment the scene had warped, and the next instant Kuan's body had vanished.
"Clear the way."
Rai lunged forward.
At the center where the grass spiraled, a drop of red blood fell, drip by drip.
"…Was he cut?"
Yula didn't lie. "No. None of us cut him. Just before the blades would have reached him, he disappeared first."
"Then whose blood is that?"
"Perhaps…"
Yula pointed at his own head with an index finger.
An ear.
He'd burst his own eardrum; his hearing was now half gone.
"Kuan."
Before a lone man had pierced the formations of the guards from twelve nations, some thought crossed their minds.
Is he trying to become a ghost? Rai, having a little sense now of what one must give up to become the strongest swordsman, understood at least part of the cost.
The Pope delivered the opening address.
"The Rami Church is a global religion. But not everyone in the world believes in the Rami Church."
The atmosphere was solemn.
"Faith always comes with a price. It is the interment of the soul, and the acknowledgment that there is a higher transcendence beyond reason."
The Pope's gaze fixed on Shirone.
"What can be gained for that price is strength. Rest that comes from believing you are not entirely your own. Perhaps that is what this world needs."
His eyes drifted away. "The Rami Church's value might simply be courage, sacrifice, and hope—things for those who cannot fight to lean on."
Gis murmured, "Ohhh, God."
"No one is God. As Pope of the Rami Church, I fervently pray to the Creator that leaders arise who can fight solely for humanity."
Applause embroidered the assembly hall—an awkward moment for the kingdom of Tormia, which sought to borrow Yahweh's power.
"It can't be helped."
Rufist pressed his temple with a fist. "As the holy war's officially recognized church, they have clout. Above all, the kingdom lacks that justification."
Plu agreed. "It's subtle, but their wording denies Yahweh. It was deliberate."
Each person's private thoughts differed, but officially the mood was moved.
"Next, the International Tribunal will present its proposal."
Leader Socrates climbed the podium with his rotund frame and wiped his sweat. "Whew. It's hot today. No, is it just me? These fatty clothes I'm wearing…"
When no one reacted, he burst into a laugh that was almost a shout. "I'm joking! Hahaha!"
The mood sank.
"Ahem. Then I will present the proposal. I, Bebeeto Socrates, deputy head of the International Tribunal—" he widened his eyes, "—resign effective today."
Officials from various nations didn't react, but those working the holy war murmured.
"Socrates, what are you saying?"
"Exactly what I said. I resign. I want another loaf of bread, that's all. Eating is what matters. I propose Mitto Shirano as my successor. That is all."
"Shirano?"
Socrates stepped down, and a gaunt middle-aged woman climbed the stand.
Her nickname was the Marsh-Green Witch; she had once been head of the Magic Association in the Stang Kingdom.
"Thank you, Socrates, for leaving this crappy seat to me," she said, her tongue sharp as always.
"Then I will present the proposal. I hereby resign as head."
"What on earth! Is the holy war a joke?" For the first time, some officials protested, but Shirano was relentless.
"Shut up. Don't treat mages like a joke and drag us into this childish political playground. We all know how it is, don't we?"
Silence fell. The chairperson spoke. "But... if Shirano resigns too, who will present the proposal? Even when resigning, wouldn't it be courteous to at least present the agenda to the nations?"
"Present it."
Shirano said bluntly, "The strong eat the weak. That's it."
Then she left the podium, leaving politicians bewildered—and some smiling.
The mages.
They had a peculiar stubbornness. A people who never swallowed anything they couldn't accept.
The Moon King of the Mun Kingdom, Munryong, rose. "This is outrageous! To raise the banner of survival of the fittest at a conference meant to promote world peace!"
The chair intervened. "Please calm down. That was the remark of a mere deputy head. Besides, he's no longer a deputy..."
"You can't pass that off! The International Tribunal isn't an organization that oversees all regulations and laws of the holy war!"
The tone sharpened. "They brought the villain Havitz to the holy war; now they say the strong eat the weak. Do they want the scent of blood? If taken literally, it would mean they wouldn't intervene even if a king's neck were cut!"
"That's a terrible thing to say!"
At the mention of assassination, even those who had only been watching tensed.
"This is a meeting for peace. Isn't the Moon King, who thinks such filthy things, the one with something to gain?"
"How dare you…!"
Because it was a hot topic, many stood, and the assembly's mood turned combative.
Assassination would be attempted regardless. The side that showed weakness here would be the first to get hit.
Amid boasting, threats, and bluster, the chamber doors opened.
The fact that the doors had opened surprised everyone, and the room fell instantly silent.
"What is this?"
A one-armed swordsman bowed his head. "If I disturbed—sorry."
Then, limping down the stairs, Kuan's presence intensified everyone's astonishment.
Kuan.
Shiina watched with complicated feelings as the chair halted Kuan with a question. "Wait. Who are you?"
"Tormia Kingdom Special Unit, Parka Kuan. I was late due to circumstances."
"No—you can't just say that now..."
Curiosity stopped the chair from scolding him, and he asked again, "How did you get in here?"
Once the plenary session started, the guards of each nation were the only exit holders.
Kuan looked at the door and answered, "On foot..."
"No! I'm asking how you got in! All the headquarters doors were sealed and no one can enter the building without passing the guards..." At that moment the chair realized.
"You don't mean...?"
Could he have broken through the guards of all twelve nations?
At that instant blood gushed from one of Kuan's ears and splattered onto the floor.
Shiina's eyes widened, and everyone who knew him wore shocked expressions.
Pressure. He'd sacrificed an ear.
As the hall fell silent at that realization, Kuan took another step.
He stopped at Tormia's clerical seat.
"Excuse me."
"Ah, yes."
Sade, quick to notice, moved aside and Kuan sat slowly in his chair.
It was beside Shiina.
"Why...?"
"This is my seat."
Albino and Uorin—those who had guessed—knew Kuan couldn't be unaware of what that implied.
Any nation that laid hands on Shiina would be the first to die.
The unspoken threat pressed heavily across the hall, and Albino nodded.
If you can't keep them, cut everything away. If you've truly let go of everything...
Kuan had become a sword ghost.