There was nothing left in it anymore.
No wishes, no supplications, no flattery, no desires.
The nights it had raced through, the nights when it cut through the wind shoulder to shoulder with others, were now far behind.
Falling deeper and deeper, it had arrived here.
It no longer knew how long it had been in this prison.
In the place that the people of this world called a dungeon, it had been endlessly cutting down living beings.
Monsters, apparitions, others of its kind, and cursed beings.
Its light blue cloak was soaked in blood, and the armor it was given upon arriving in this world was now no more than a lump of blood and fragments.
Its wishes and hopes had become twisted, its blessings reversed, turning into curses.
No—there was still something left.
The scent of rusted iron, and the thrill of cutting through flesh.
One day, it found a beautiful light, a rainbow-like radiance—warm and dazzling.
A light that resembled that goddess, the glow of a spirit mage. It wanted to cut through that light.
Thus, it ventured into the shallower depths, where it usually never went.
The radiance was gathered in clusters, making it easy to find.
It began its hunt with all its might.
First, it took one head.
Satisfied, as there was a spirit mage among them, it hunted.
Yet, the prey escaped.
It could have hunted down the rainbow light if it had wished.
But it became interested in the black soldier instead.
There was a certain pressure—unique to those who remain in a place of death, fully aware of their approaching end.
That pressure reminded it of those foolishly brave people from the time when it still raced as a human—those who staked their lives on their wishes and the future of their country.
So, it halted its steps.
It faced the black soldier, in the way that a small remnant of its admiration for the way of the samurai dictated.
It wasn’t bad.
The black soldier—perhaps just reaching the age of maturity, or maybe not quite yet.
Yet, he had a remarkable presence and loyalty for someone so young.
It too, was a swordsman in its own right.
By clashing blades, by cutting into one’s flesh, one could understand what kind of person they were.
It judged the black soldier as follows:
A beautiful shield, an armor.
A true retainer that those who walk the righteous path would undoubtedly desire.
The black soldier did not fall.
No matter how many times it cut through the gaps in the armor, crushing bone.
Using magic, he forced his body to move, standing to face it again.
Unexpectedly, it was an enjoyable time.
It wasn’t a battle where it threw everything away.
But fighting the black soldier was certainly not like the usual barbaric battles within this prison, where curses fought each other to the death.
It was a time of comparing reason and skill.
It was an entertaining time.
So, it was disappointed.
Its blade finally reached the black soldier’s arm.
Ah, it’s the end.
Through its long combat experience, it knew that humans lose their edge the moment they lose any of their limbs.
Ah, such a pity, such a pity, such a pity.
Despite the movements in its heart, it calmly drove its blade into the black soldier’s body.
Sadness or pride, it didn’t matter. No matter how much the curse blurred its memory, its skill in cutting down humans had never faded.
The black soldier finally lost his strength, collapsing to his knees.
Ah, it’s all over now.
It regretted it—regretted that it had been able to compete in skill with an opponent after such a long time.
It grew more interested in the black soldier.
Surely, it was the loyalty to that spirit mage that sustained him in that battle.
—It wanted to test it.
To see just how deep that loyalty ran.
—It wanted to know.
Whether loyalty held any value at all.
It had taken many lives until now.
It knew that no matter how precious a thing someone held, they would relinquish it in their final moments.
No matter how grand the cause, the wishes, the oaths, or the loyalty.
Compared to life, all of it was rubbish.
It knew that if you told someone to trade it for their life at the end, everyone would let it go if it meant saving their life.
It hoped for that.
It hoped that the black soldier would be the same.
That there is nothing more important than life itself.
It had to be so.
Otherwise, the end of those people—Kondo-san, Hijikata-san—would surely be cruel.
“Those people would surely go as far as they could go.
They would sacrifice themselves for that way of the warrior, which they deemed more important than life.
I don’t want that, I don’t want that, I don’t want that.
That’s why, I wanted it to be proven.
Beg for your life, throw away what you hold dear if it’s more important than your life, or else…
Those people would surely be the same.
—Huh, Kondo-san and Hijikata-san? Who am I talking about?”
“…The location of the spirit mage.”
“It’s chivalry, damn it. Who would tell you, idiot?”
“…Unyielding samurai.”
Not saying it.
Say it.
“One last time, the location of the spirit mage.”
“Knights have terrible personalities. Good luck finding them, samurai.”
Not saying it.
Ah, black soldier.
A western samurai—no, this knight won’t say it.
He would die for something more important than his own life.
Ah. Ah. Aaaaaah. If that’s the case—
Bravo, magnificent, you shouldn’t be, you mustn’t be, you mustn’t acknowledge it.
What we could never become, what we ended up becoming.
I cannot let this boy live as he is.
This boy is us, just like the Shinsengumi.
Surely, everyone would die this way.
I couldn’t be there at their end, nor could I die with them.
It is cursed, cursed, becoming a curse itself.
To the curse, the boy’s way of being is blindingly bright, and yet—
“—I’ll hang your head on a banner and go on a pilgrimage—”
It was something I could never accept.
It raised its blade, intending at least to end it with a single strike.
Thinking that—
Thunk.
It could no longer move.
It wasn’t hesitation.
It was the instinct of a curse.
Sensing an overwhelmingly powerful curse—one far stronger than itself—
BOOOOOM!!
The rock wall crumbles.
What emerges is a boy, much smaller than the black soldier—no, no, no.
It couldn’t move, it realized.
It recognized the identity of the powerful curse that had stopped its movements.
“—You’re bleeding! Aki-kun!!”
“…No way, you… haha.”
The knight smiles when he sees the boy.
The two laugh side by side in the place of death.
“…You, you’re such an idiot, aren’t you? Why did you come here?”
“Huh? Well, you’d die, Aki-kun. I had to come help you.”
“Really, you’re an idiot—”
“Besides, Snow-san was crying.”
“—”
The knight’s movements stop.
“If you die, Aki-kun, Snow-san will cry.”
“Are you saying… you came all this way… just for Snow? Even though you might die?”
“Huh? Ah, well, yeah, that’s right. After all, crying doesn’t suit her.”
“—”
The knight held his breath, and it understood.
For what felt like an eternity, it somehow understood.
“—I see, we’re brothers in arms, then.”
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
It and the boy both spoke up at the same time.
“Brothers, I acknowledge you as Snow’s knight. That golden will of yours to prevent her tears, even if it means risking your life.”
“Huh? Aki-kun?”
Something is off.
It saw something impossible.
The knight rises.
Ridiculous, impossible, there’s no way he could stand.
His bones and tendons were severed.
“Hey, Aki-kun, your blood is pouring out! You’re going to die!”
“It doesn’t matter, brother. Even if I die, I will send you back to Snow’s side. That’s a big brother’s job.”
“…Oh, so that’s how it is.”
It felt the change in the air.
The final brilliance of a soldier facing death, a death-bound warrior.
“Brother, I’ll buy you time. That thing is a monster, you can’t possibly win. Call for a teacher—Ansberna should be able to handle it.”
“…”
“Thank you, at the very end, I was reassured to meet someone like you. Snow will be fine now. Because you’re here.”
“…”
It won’t end easily. It focused all its caution on the knight—
No, wait, caution?
Now that I think of it, where did the cursed presence I felt from that boy go—?
“Now, brother!! Our first and last joint front! I’ll charge in, you stay in the back! Find an opening and escape—”
“Gotcha!!!!!!!”
“Te-beh!!!!!!!!!!!”
—Huh?
The knight collapsed.
In a single blow, without any warning.
No, that’s not right; it didn’t miss it.
A swift, sharp hand chop.
It instantly snuffed out the knight’s consciousness.
“Sanguine Scripture.”
The moment the boy touched the knight, the bleeding stopped.
“Aki-kun, you’re such a passionate guy, huh. Yeah, yeah, this isn’t your place to die, is it? You need to dance in the best place I can arrange for you.”
It. It couldn’t understand the boy’s words.
While it was bewildered, the boy looked at it again.
“Heh.”
The boy, no.
“Let’s do this one-on-one. I’m a little interested in you.”
The king of curses had appeared.
