EP.29 Resistance - 4
Delta, with a massive needle embedded in his head, couldn't even change his expression. On his spasming face, only his lips barely moved, struggling to form words.
Delta spoke with difficulty.
"W-what, the, hell..."
"Huh? Where did the card go? Ta-da! It was right here!"
*Thwack.* I pulled out the skewer driven into his head. Removing the plug, the pooled blood gushed out like a burst dam.
Bleeding from his head, Delta creaked like a broken machine as he tried to grip his gun again. However, his hand kept grasping emptily at the wrong spot. Reaching for the trigger, his arm kept swerving to the right. His trembling fingers looked pitiful.
Flipping the extracted skewer with a snap, the skewer that had just gone in and out of someone's head vanished, and a single card stained with blood appeared. I shook the card to flick off the blood, then bowed deeply to Delta.
"Thank you for watching until now. You were quite a good audience, but I am a magician! I cannot die in a place like this."
"Ugh, me..."
"Whether a magician is chained and thrown into a river or locked in a room full of lit explosives, they must ultimately survive and escape. So, I cannot participate in the greatest bomb suicide show you are putting on. I'm sorry! I have decided to use Tantalus as my stage and perform an escape show against you all!"
Delta's body slumped to the ground. With his brain destroyed, he could no longer reply. Only his sporadic, fragmenting thoughts indicated he was not yet dead.
But that wouldn't last long either.
I crouched down and met his eyes.
*Our, objective, from the, start, you knew.*
"Of course I know. How could I not? You, who are prepared to die, wouldn't have invaded while still worrying about the aftermath, would you?"
*Knowing, yet, trying to, deceive me.*
"Deceived, you say. Well? Who deceived whom first? Your captain, who promised to free us without any intention of doing so? Or you, who hid behind a facade of nobility and contemplation, standing by as a silent bystander to that lie? Can you say you didn't deceive me?"
*No, I, didn't. I...*
"However noble you tried to be, I don't really care. Justice not expressed through action is akin to undigested vomit. No matter how much you cherish your own feelings, no matter how you dress them up as a righteous cause. Your justice is ultimately just an expression of self-love."
*Reading, my, thoughts.*
His thoughts gradually faded. Blood drained from the hole in his head and pooled on the other side. The pressure from this imbalance crushed his brain from within. As his brain deteriorated, his consciousness crumbled alongside it.
His final thoughts dragged out. Like drawing out the very last word at the end of a book, his lingering attachments stretched out long, like inertia.
A single book was reaching its conclusion.
Having read his thoughts thoroughly, I locked eyes with him and whispered.
"Goodbye, Elsie Clark. You are a failed terrorist. No matter your past, no matter how much you try to excuse yourself. That won't change who you are."
*Ah, ah, ah.*
"But I will remember you, and your final moments."
*Ah.*
"Goodbye."
The thoughts snapped.
With that, the book put a period to its end.
What was once the flesh of codename Delta, real name Elsie Clark, now lay sprawled on the ground as a corpse.
I swept my hand over the corpse's eyes. The wide-open eyes of the dead closed.
That was the end. An ordinary, short life came to an end.
"Phew."
Fortunately, there was no need to wipe away the blood. The blood flowing from the corpse was rolling toward the underground armory, as if that was the natural order of the world. As long as vampires exist, there's no need to do the tedious chore of wiping up spilled blood.
I rolled my stiff shoulders and muttered.
"Alright. One job done."
Next is the captain. If I don't catch him, the one who took the bomb, this won't be over.
Alright. Captain. Where are you and what are you doing. Let's read your thoughts a bit.
I closed my eyes. I scattered my telepathy. I traced the faintly felt thoughts in my expanded field of vision, spreading out like seeping mist.
.
..
...
"Nine thousand nine hundred ninety. Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-one. Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-two..."
*Swoosh. Swoosh.*
An invisible sword cleaved through space. A sword with no weight and no thickness, Cheon-aeng. The reason a sword with no thickness produced the sound of slicing wind was because the blade was laid flat and swung to feel a minimum sense of weight. Even so, the sharp sword wind spread out as if tearing the surroundings apart.
"...Ten thousand."
The ten thousandth swing ended. Sweat beaded and flowed. The loose pants were made of breathable material, but it was far from enough to cool her heated body. Shea wiped the short hair that fell slightly below her ears. Sweat drops glistened at the tips before falling to the ground.
Unintentionally, impulsively. She sliced the falling sweat drops. Once, twice, five times, ten times. Overlapping slashes.
A single drop's fall transformed into a total of 392 minor collisions. The shattered sweat drops scattered in all directions as they hit the floor.
"Phew."
Shea resumed her stance. A perfected stance. A flawless middle stance, created through her own deep contemplation over the course of 13 regressions.
It was a stance well-suited for wielding the weightless sword, Cheon-aeng. Because it was weightless, Cheon-aeng didn't need to store power in advance; simply turning the wrist from the middle stance could draw out a myriad of changes.
Of course, as with all things in the world, there are two sides, left and right, so the inability to store power in advance became a drawback in itself. The weight of each individual strike was lacking.
However, that was a problem that would be solved once she obtained the Sword of the Earth, Jichan (地潺).
Therefore, what she needed to do was temper herself. Until she obtained Jichan, before that powerful precious sword overshadowed her own strength, she had to shed a layer.
That was why she came to Tantalus, and why she learned the Blood Manipulation Art.
Shea resumed her stance again.
A perfected stance. Flawless. But to advance further, she had to shatter that perfection and find flaws where there were none. Because one must break a shell to see a larger world.
Long ago, in the early iterations she barely remembered. The ronin's swordsmanship she swung just to desperately survive was now only holding her back, having half-transcended it. The swordsmanship that supported her for so long and died with her had also reached its time to be discarded.
To completely destroy it, and build anew.
Shea grasped Cheon-aeng again.
"Phew. Phew."
She had gained quite a lot from Tantalus. Witnessing the prison break she had only heard of in stories with her own two eyes, meeting the vampire and the King of Dogs. And on top of that, an unexpected variable.
...Variable.
The sword creaked. The trajectory warped. Shea stopped swinging her sword and clenched her teeth.
That man with his carefree and relaxed impression. Whenever she thought of him, Shea felt something was off. A man who didn't exist in the future she knew. Yet he exuded a distinct presence and lived here. He was closer to Aji than anyone else, and Tirkanjaka was also subtly mindful of him. Even if he disappeared now, his presence would surely be imprinted.
Above all, Shea herself was paying too much attention to him as well.
"Tch. If only I hadn't gotten caught up in that..."
Whenever they got entangled, she felt dragged into it. The feeling was unpleasant, but that didn't mean the man did anything bad. It was just subtly displeasing whenever he did something.
Moreover, he was hiding something. Otherwise, there was no way he could have instantly seen through the stealth art she used and anticipated that she would eavesdrop.
If she fought with all her might, she could win, but since he showed no signs of hostility, she didn't feel the need to risk everything in a life-or-death struggle. Therefore, the conclusion Shea reached was provisional non-interference. A stance of not attacking unless provoked.
It would be troublesome if she were caught off guard and ambushed, but...
"Troublesome, my foot. It's actually better. Because I'll know he's someone not to be trusted."
If she died because of it, she could just move on to the next iteration. From that point on, the moment that man got involved with Shea, he would be interrogated with his limbs severed.
Distractions seeped in. Shea swung her sword as if to shake off her thoughts.
The two thousandth swing. Sweat drops dampened the floor, her breathing gradually grew faster, but she was still unsatisfied. When she infused power using the newly learned Blood Manipulation Art, her balance was thrown off; when she drew cleanly without waste, it felt like regressing to her old swordsmanship.
Blood. She thought something might change if she could fully understand blood and feel the weight flowing through her body.
Was it lacking due to her talent? Was she unable to find a stance that could contain all her power?
It would be helpful if she had a sparring partner at a time like this... For example, someone like that unfathomable man...
"Ah!"
Did she focus too intensely? She didn't even sense someone approaching. Stopping her sword swings, Shea took a deep breath and glared at the uninvited guest.
The uninvited guest was wearing thick armor. Shea instantly identified the model. The military nation's military equipment, Gunjang. Seeing the outdated design and signs of poor maintenance, it seemed someone had stolen a model slated for disposal due to age.
Shea wiped her face with her sleeve and muttered.
"Resistance?"
"W-what? How?"
The young man made a surprised expression.
Simple logic. Even if it was an outdated model, the military nation wouldn't just leave Gunjang, the essence of their military technology, lying around. They collected it all for disposal, or dismantled it to build new Gunjang.
If someone was wearing such a model, they must have stolen or hijacked a Gunjang scheduled for disposal.
Then it could only be the Resistance.
The uninvited guest, momentarily flustered, laughed off his uncomfortable feelings and spoke.
"Haha. It seems our Resistance's fame is widely known. Even such a young boy recognizes us... Boy, are you a forced laborer too?"
"No. I'm a prisoner."
Shea answered briefly. The words were spat out with no intention of continuing the conversation.
Then, Shea suddenly found a strange part in the young man's words. More importantly, 'too'? There shouldn't be any forced laborers here right now?
Before she could point that out, the young man made a fuss first.
"To imprison such a young boy in Tantalus! The military nation is truly a ruthless country without blood or tears! What crime could this young boy have committed!"
"I sat right in the middle of the city and said I'd give gold coins to anyone who could beat me. I beat the swarming people one by one. Later, the army came, and I beat all of them too. So, someone called a general came and took me away."
"Huh?"
The young man broke into a sweat. As the other party responded differently from his expectations, he finally thought to look at Shea properly.
Her body was frail and thin, perhaps from not eating well. Even though she was a 'male', her bones seemed inherently slender; the thin ankles visible below the loose pant legs looked like they would break with a slight tap. A body unsuited for combat.
However, her piercing gaze, which seemed to harbor a gleam within, lacked a single grain of fear, and her upright posture was as sharp as a well-honed blade.
She didn't seem human, but rather like a single sword. Even her breathing was chilling, and standing still, she looked as if she could slash her opponent.
The young man instinctively adjusted his Gunjang. With a *clank*, the armor moved and covered his neck and lower jaw. Shea hadn't even displayed hostility yet, but he had already grown fearful and protected his vitals.
Shea stared at the man with a gaze that seemed to slash him.
"The reason the Resistance came to Tantalus... Surely it's not the nonsense about rescuing the prisoners. You came to commit terrorism, right?"
As if hit on the mark, the young man urgently waved his hands and shouted.
"What nonsense! Are we some kind of terrorists!"
"Yes."
Shea, cutting him off flatly, spoke coldly.
"The Resistance... a mob with no vision, just vague complaints. The only thing you do is rush in like moths to a flame and commit terrorism..."
It sounded like she had experienced and felt it firsthand—no, she actually had experienced it. Disappointment and disillusionment. Shea's voice held a cold certainty.
As if sensing Shea's emotions, the young man flinched.
"You must be too indoctrinated by their ideological education! We are the Resistance, an organization that fights for freedom. We will defeat the military government that unjustly seized power and bring true freedom to this country!"
"We tried that, it didn't really change much. No, it got worse."
"What are you talking about?"
"No need to understand. And I have no intention of explaining."
Shea rested Cheon-aeng on her shoulder and glared at the young man.
"Trying to bring down Tantalus? Don't make me laugh. Tantalus won't collapse just because rats like you squeak and gnaw at it. You will fail. Because it's not time for it to fall yet."
"No! We will succeed! The captain is already on the job. Once the operation is complete, this legendary prison will fall, and we will be recorded as liberators!"
Unable to contain his excitement, the young man shouted. Shea scoffed and retorted.
"You just said it yourself with your own mouth. That you came to commit terrorism."
"Hup!"
Since he said it himself, he couldn't even deny it now. The young man scowled deeply, then raised his arm threateningly and muttered.
"...Not bad, brat. A leading question, huh."
"Idiot. You just slipped it out yourself. If this is a leading question, then the military nation's Security Bureau profiling must be telepathy."
With the successive provocations, the young man's reason snapped. Forgetting the captain's warning, the young man burned with hostility and shouted.
"Fine! Tantalus will disappear beyond the Abyss! We will tear down this symbol of oppression! So, what are you going to do about it?"
"If Tantalus falls, you won't be safe either, will you?"
"We don't care! We came prepared to die! The Resistance is always ready to die for the country!"
"Hmm. The country."
I've never met a sane person who constantly talks about their country. Shea smirked and raised her arm.
"I wonder? But I don't think that man will just sit back and watch."
Tantalus will fall.
But not now.
At a point just shy of a year, 'she' will arrive. After that, Tantalus collapses, and true despair crawls out from beneath it. Fragments of the Apocalypse, monsters who could bring an end to the world on their own if left alone.
Because of that, they were bound to fail. Even in the eras before Shea existed, they left not a single line of mention. If Tantalus could fall because of a mere few terrorists, it wouldn't have been called the Abyss.
This was a problem she didn't need to worry about. That man would probably take care of it. He looked skilled at this kind of thing.
"Apart from him, I have no reason to leave you alone either, do I?"
*Shring.*
A clear ring was heard. Shea had drawn Cheon-aeng and sliced through the air. A sharpness that possessed killing intent even in its sword cry was revealed to the world.
Shea growled fiercely.
"When a scarecrow walked right up to me on its own."
"Scarecrow?!"
In response, the man hastily manipulated his Gunjang. The pushed-back helmet snapped and rose. A solid helmet covered his face, and the visor came down. Steel scales sprouted on weak points like his neck and armpits.
Steel interlocked. Clank, clank. Rhythmic, mechanical noise surrounded him. Greaves appeared on his legs, gauntlets on his arms, a gun barrel loaded with six ironclad rounds on his left hand, and a massive greatsword capable of rending flesh on his right.
Fully armed, the young man roared at Shea.
"A scarecrow, you say? No! This is the Gunjang! Do you think you, a mere bare-handed fighter, can defeat me?"
With a bio-terminal, the magical power to assist alchemy, and the strength to move with it.
Full-body alchemical equipment that allows even ordinary people to wield knight-grade combat power. Gunjang.
Cloaked in that power, the young man walked threateningly and shouted.
"You'll regret speaking so carelessly!"
"Hmm. Bare-handed. Bare-handed, you say..."
Shea herself wasn't surprised at all, even facing the Gunjang. Instead, she gauged it. Her opponent's strength and her own, as well as what she lacked.
"Alright. I needed a precarious real battle anyway. I'll face you bare-handed."
Immediately after, Shea stopped circulating her qi.
She also withdrew the magical power cloaking the blade.
Now standing here was just a frail girl holding a precious sword that was far too good for her.
With solely her individual skill and experience, she had to surpass a weapon built upon the blood and history of the military nation.
Can she do it?
That's not important. Shea smiled.
"We'll just have to try."
Even if I die, it's just dying.
The girl held a single invisible sword and approached the activating Gunjang. Greeted by the sound of interlocking metal, Cheon-aeng rang out, long and thin.