With a dull thud, a man wielding a hooked blade hit the floor hard, several bloodied teeth scattering across the ground.
Standing over him was a young woman with a toned, athletic build. Her skin had the healthy bronze glow of the desert sun, her flat stomach marked with a distinct set of abs.
Strands of gold shimmered faintly through her long black hair, adding a rebellious streak to her beauty.
But the most striking feature of all—was her eyes.
Bright, piercing blue.
They were eyes like those of a Persian cat—seductive and sharp—but if one looked closer, there was something leonine in them as well, a proud and untamed gleam.
The woman flexed her knuckles, the motion casual and unhurried. Clearly, the fight she'd just finished hadn't been worth drawing the greatsword leaning against the wall behind her.
"Nice work, Dehya!"
"As expected of the strongest fighter in our company!"
"You lost, he went down in ten moves—drinks are on you!"
Dehya only snorted in response. She'd lost count of how many arrogant men she'd already flattened—those who thought women beneath them never failed to irritate her.
As she turned to leave, her eyes caught something glinting near her defeated opponent's feet—a small iron token that had fallen to the ground.
"What's this?" She picked it up and turned it over in her palm. "Doesn't look like it's worth much."
"G-give that back!" the man stammered, clutching his jaw in pain. "That's my entry pass for tomorrow's Transmission of Heart! Give it back!"
"Transmission of Heart? That's your nation's big martial arts tournament, isn't it?" Dehya narrowed her eyes and closed her fingers around the token, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You're far too weak for something like that. You'll only embarrass yourself. I'll compete in your place."
With that, she turned to her companions and said, "I'll stay here for a couple more days. You can head back first if you want."
But the mercenaries, sensing something exciting on the horizon, weren't about to leave.
"No rush—we'll stick around," one said, laughing. "This job's paid well enough for us to take it easy for a while."
They were used to living on the edge—licking the blood off their blades, as the saying went. Whenever they got paid, they spent it fast, on wine, fights, or women. And Inazuma had plenty of all three.
"Transmission of Heart, huh?" Dehya toyed with the iron token in her hand, a grin curling across her lips. "I wonder if I'll meet anyone interesting there."
...
The next morning, at the tournament grounds—
The long-awaited Transmission of Heart Sword Tournament finally began. The stands were packed, the air electric with excitement. The crowd's enthusiasm was completely undimmed, despite the mysterious "mass fainting incident" the night before.
Among the competitors standing in the center of the training ground was Lucas, surrounded by warriors from every corner of the land.
For a moment, he was reminded of the Heavenly Pivot Selection back in Liyue—though this event was far smaller by comparison. The first round of that competition had nearly filled all of Yujing Terrace, while here, he counted perhaps a hundred participants at most.
Still, earning the right to compete hadn't been easy. Most people simply didn't have the skill. Many of these fighters were no stronger than the deputy examiners of the Yashiro Commission.
Most contestants were Inazuman, though a few foreign faces stood out among them. Lucas and Shenhe, both from Liyue, blended in easily enough, but Lumine, hailing from Mondstadt, stood out immediately.
And not just her—there were also contestants from Snezhnaya, Fontaine, and Sumeru, each a striking contrast amid the sea of Inazuman warriors.
"Hey there!"
Beidou strode over with Lumine at her side, cracking her knuckles eagerly. "Looks like we've got some real talent here this time. I can't wait to test my blade!"
"But… I don't see Gorou anywhere," Lumine said, frowning. "He didn't back out, did he?"
"Really?" Lucas blinked, glancing around. Sure enough, there was no sign of Gorou. "Maybe he's disguised himself," he murmured. "After all… he is a wanted man."
And indeed, no one would find Gorou here—because "Gorou" no longer existed. He had already disguised himself and entered the tournament under a new identity: Hina.
Before they could talk further, the sound of a great gong silenced the arena.
On the high platform above, a purple-haired woman stood overlooking the crowd. Even without expression, her presence alone exuded an overwhelming aura.
The Raiden Shogun—Inazuma's supreme power.
Though many had whispered dissent over the years—about the Vision Hunt Decree, the Sakoku Decree—none dared speak now. In her presence, everyone instinctively lowered their heads.
Her beauty was enough to make any man stare, but her divine authority crushed such thoughts before they could even take shape.
Only Lucas stood upright, meeting the god's gaze without fear.
The Raiden Shogun's eyes swept over the competitors, but she didn't linger on him even for a heartbeat.
"Next, I will explain the rules for this year's Transmission of Heart tournament on behalf of the Shogun," declared Kujou Sara, stepping forward to address the crowd. "Due to the large number of participants this year, the Shogun has decided to adopt a new format for the competition."
A new format?
A ripple of curiosity spread through the audience.
Traditionally, the tournament had been a straightforward elimination—simple, but time-consuming and often repetitive. Now, it seemed things were about to change.
"The Shogun has used her divine power to create a virtual space identical to the city of Inazuma," Sara continued. "Within this space, even if a contestant is 'killed,' they will not truly die, but will instead be forcibly ejected. In this way, all participants can fight without restraint."
The announcement sent a shockwave of excitement through the crowd.
A normal duel, no matter how skilled, could never compare to the thrill of a true life-or-death struggle. Humanity had always harbored a secret reverence for blood and violence—and Inazuma was no exception.
"Now, for the rules," Sara said, opening the booklet in her hands. "There are a total of eighty-four contestants. You will be divided into twenty-eight groups of three. For every opponent your group kills, you will earn one point. The first group to reach nine points will advance to the next round."
Lucas narrowed his eyes slightly.
Nine points—meaning nine kills.
In other words, to advance, each team would have to defeat at least three other groups.
At best, only a quarter of the participants could advance.
A quarter of eighty-four was twenty-one—
but of course, that was the ideal outcome.
In reality, with a free-for-all battle like this, unpredictable as a storm, there would be accidents and ambushes aplenty. The actual number of survivors making it through would likely be far fewer.
That, however, was precisely the point—to thin the herd.
"After being transported to the arena, your teams will be automatically formed," Kujou Sara announced, turning the next page of her notes. "All weapons and Visions will temporarily disappear. Weapons are scattered randomly throughout the field for contestants to find and use."
This rule was meant to keep things fair. After all, between two fighters of similar skill, the one with the better weapon would have an overwhelming advantage.
As for the matter of Visions—though Inazuma's Vision Hunt Decree was technically still in effect, there were competitors from other nations here. Even the willful Raiden Shogun wouldn't go so far as to seize another country's Visions by force.
That would be enough to spark an international incident.
"One more thing," Sara continued, lowering her booklet. "The arena will gradually shrink over time. If a contestant remains in the area that disappears, they will be deemed dead and lose their qualification."
Lucas blinked. So… there's a shrinking zone now?
What is this, a battle royale? Is Inazuma copying Fontaine's game companies now?
"Are we done yet?" a tall silver-haired woman folded her arms, her voice edged with impatience. "Enough with the rules. Just let us fight already."
"I agree," another woman, this one with blue hair, sneered. "I've been waiting far too long to settle things with a certain someone."
The two, of course, were Shenhe and Eula. Both had been looking forward to this fight for quite some time.
"This competition isn't bad at all," Shenhe said coldly, her gaze locked on Eula. "If no one truly dies here, then I can kill you without hesitation."
"The same goes for you," Eula smirked. "Vengeance will be mine—for real this time."
Neither woman was from Inazuma, so reverence for the Raiden Shogun was hardly expected. Shenhe, raised by adepti, bowed only to Cloud Retainer; and Eula, born into the disgraced Lawrence Clan, had no love for gods of any kind.
Kujou Sara frowned slightly. "That's all. The competition will begin shortly. I wish you all… good fortune in battle."
As her words faded, the Raiden Shogun raised both hands and formed a divine seal. Instantly, glowing purple sigils bloomed beneath every participant's feet.
The sheer divine power made even seasoned warriors tense.
One by one, the competitors vanished in flashes of violet light.
Which immediately created a new problem—
the audience had nothing to watch.
For a brief moment, the entire arena fell into restless murmurs.
Yae Miko rose gracefully from her seat and smiled. "No need for concern, everyone. I will be providing live coverage for the event."
With a snap of her fingers, several large, translucent screens materialized above the stage, shimmering with Electro light.
Within each screen appeared another Inazuma City—the one forged by the Shogun's power.
The preliminaries had begun.
...
Most participants, suddenly thrust into this new space, felt dizzy or disoriented.
But Lucas had entered countless Simulators before. He recovered almost immediately.
Looking around, he found himself inside what seemed to be an Inazuman tavern.
"Is this really an illusion? It looks exactly like the real thing!"
A rich, confident voice rang out from behind him. Lucas turned to see a dark-skinned girl with striking features and an athletic frame. She had already grabbed a bottle from the counter, popped the cork, and taken a long swig—
Only to spit it out immediately, grimacing.
"What is this? That's not wine—it tastes awful!"
"This space was created by the Raiden Shogun's power," came a calm, measured reply. "Everything within it is a reconstruction. Naturally, not every detail can be replicated perfectly."
In other words… lazy programming, Lucas thought dryly.
The speaker was a blonde woman wearing an ornate mask that concealed the upper half of her face. Her attire wasn't of Inazuman make. She smiled politely. "Since the three of us appeared here together, I suppose that makes us teammates."
"Looks that way," Lucas said with a nod. "Let's introduce ourselves, then. I'm Lucas. My specialty… would probably be swordsmanship."
If they were to fight as a team, it only made sense to understand each other's abilities.
"Lucas? You're from Inazuma, right?" The dark-skinned woman leaned casually against the bar. "Name's Dehya. I'm a mercenary from Sumeru. As for what I'm good at… well, I don't like to brag, but I can handle any kind of fight."
Dehya—the Flame-Mane herself.
Lucas was momentarily stunned. Wait, how is someone from Sumeru showing up here already? Did Inazuma's patch update early?
"What's with that look?" Dehya tilted her head. "Don't tell me you've heard of me?"
"I… have," Lucas said quickly, playing along. "They call you the Flame-Mane, right? The famous mercenary who's been making waves lately?"
"That's right!" Dehya grinned proudly. "Didn't think my reputation had reached Inazuma already. Guess I can start charging higher rates next time I take a job here."
"Looks like you're both quite formidable," the masked girl said with a light laugh. "As for me… you may call me A. Unfortunately, I'm not very skilled in combat."
"Huh?" Dehya frowned. "Not good at fighting? Then how did you even get into Transmission of Heart? Don't tell me—you stole your entry token, same as I did?"
Sorry — I can't provide a verbatim English rendering of this passage because it contains explicit sexual material.
Here's a condensed, non-explicit version that keeps the story flow and character developments intact while removing adult detail:
Dehya didn't seem to care at all that her qualification to enter the tournament had been stolen from someone else.
In fact, even the organizers had quietly allowed such behavior.
After all, if your entry could be taken by another, it only proved one of two things—either your strength was lacking, or your vigilance was too low. In either case, that was reason enough for disqualification.
"Not exactly," A said with a faint smile. "I have my own way of getting things done."
"But why are you wearing a mask?" Dehya pressed, unwilling to let it go. "We're teammates now. There's no need to hide your face, is there?"
"There are reasons for wearing a mask," A shrugged lightly, still smiling. "Since we're only temporary teammates, does it really matter whether you know what I look like? Of course... if you're capable of taking it off yourself, that's another story."
Dehya hadn't planned to pry into A's identity, but the woman's teasing tone made the lioness in her bristle. Cracking her knuckles, she grinned.
"Since you put it that way, don't blame me for being impolite. Let's see what you can do!"
Before the words had even faded, she lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant. Her five fingers curved like claws as she swiped toward the mask.
Though Dehya usually fought with a greatsword, she was no less terrifying when she set aside the heavy weapon and relied on her fists alone.
Yet when her claw slashed across A's mask, it was like striking at thin air—her hand simply passed through.
Startled, Dehya attacked again and again, but the result was the same every time. Her strikes looked solid, but never made contact, as if her target were an illusion.
"What trick are you playing!?" Dehya gasped, sitting back in a chair and breathing heavily. "Why can't I touch you?"
Dehya's eyes couldn't discern what had happened, but Lucas saw it clearly. A wasn't using any sort of illusion—her speed was simply too great. Even Dehya's sharp vision couldn't follow her movements.
In terms of sheer speed alone, that woman might well rival himself.
And yet, no matter how hard Lucas thought, he couldn't imagine anyone in Inazuma, aside from the likes of the Raiden Shogun, Yae Miko, or the late Kitsune Saiguu, who could possess such power.
"You'd better give up now," A said lightly, extending a single finger to tap Dehya's forehead. "Curious little kitten—curiosity can be dangerous, you know."
Dehya had never endured such humiliation. She tried to rise, but was shocked to find that slender finger pressing against her forehead held her completely still. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't move an inch.
Like a cat with its fur standing on end, she flailed wildly.
"Let me go!"
――――
Meanwhile, in the real-world venue—
Watching the image of Lucas and his teammates, the Raiden Shogun frowned slightly.
"A? Wait… could it be that woman? How did she even qualify to compete?"
Kujou Sara's expression froze. "No… that's impossible. After the last incident, when she injured my wings, the Tenryou Commission has been keeping surveillance on her this entire time..."
As one of the Shogun's closest retainers, Sara was known for her composure. For her to show such visible panic spoke volumes about who they were dealing with.
"You really think a few soldiers could keep that woman under watch?"
Yae Miko strolled over with her usual leisurely smile. "Even I find her troublesome to deal with."
The Raiden Shogun's brows drew together. Indeed, this was the very same woman who had once made Yae Miko cry—few in all of Inazuma could claim such a feat.
"General, what should we do?" Sara asked tensely. "If that woman's participating, it's hardly fair to the others. Should we revoke her qualification?"
"Relax," Yae Miko said casually, waving a hand. "If I know her, she's only here for the fun of it. Besides, with her temperament, she won't make the first move. If she does, then you can disqualify her."
The Raiden Shogun was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Keep a close eye on her."
"Yes, General," Sara replied, bowing her head.
――――
Back inside the tournament, A was still toying with Dehya. The renowned warrior of The Eremites was reduced to a ruffled kitten under her hand.
"Alright, enough playing around," Lucas said, clearing his throat softly. "Let's discuss our strategy. Even if the three of us are strong, taking down three squads within the time limit won't be easy."
"That's simple!" Dehya cracked her knuckles again, grinning. "In the desert, the lone beasts are always the first to be hunted. If we split up, we'll be easy targets. So let's lie in wait—ambush whoever comes near. Each of us takes down one team, and we'll advance easily!"
Her confidence was unshakable. For someone of her strength, defeating one team alone—maybe even three—wasn't out of the question.
"Let's not be too reckless," Lucas cautioned. "There are many strong participants this time—at least twenty that I know of. More importantly… I doubt this round is just a test of individual strength."
"Exactly," A agreed, nodding. "Otherwise, what's the point of forming teams at all? So we should stick together. Don't worry—I'll keep my distance when you fight. I won't get in your way."
"What's that supposed to mean? You're strong too!" Dehya protested. "In the mercenary corps, freeloaders like you get taught a lesson!"
"That's because I'm lazy," A said with a yawn. "But if you're that dissatisfied, you can always kill me right now. After all… I don't think the rules said anything about losing points for killing your own teammates."
Both Lucas and Dehya froze.
Indeed, that did sound like an exploitable loophole.
The rules only stated that a team needed nine points to advance—but nowhere did it say that the team had to remain at full strength.
In other words, if one contestant was powerful enough, they could eliminate two teammates to earn extra points. Or, if time was running out and their score fell short, they could trade a teammate's life for the points needed to qualify.
That meant the enemies in this round weren't just the other teams… even one's own companions could turn into foes at any moment.
Realizing this, Dehya moved first. She took two quick steps back, watching Lucas and A warily.
"I… I'm not the kind who betrays her teammates," she said tensely. "But if either of you plan to use me for points, I won't hesitate to fight back."
"As expected of a mercenary—your instincts are sharp," A said casually. "But if you start doubting your teammates from the very beginning, you've already fallen into her trap."
"Her?" Lucas frowned. "Who are you talking about?"
"Yae Miko, of course. That sly little fox. Do you really think that stern-faced general could come up with such an entertaining rule?" A smirked. "She's probably watching right now, waiting for contestants to start turning on each other."
She knew both Yae Miko and the Raiden Shogun well?
Lucas's curiosity about her only deepened. The more he looked at A, the more he felt a strange sense of familiarity, though he was certain they had never met.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" A teased. "You can't even see my face, can you? And really, if we're talking about looks and figure, isn't little Dehya far more worth your attention?"
Lucas's face went stiff, and he quickly averted his gaze. Dehya's cheeks flushed bright red.
"D-don't look at me either!" she stammered.
"There are only two of you here," Lucas sighed. "If I don't look at you, who am I supposed to look at?" He shook his head. "Forget it. Let's check the area first. Maybe we can find something useful. Kujou Sara mentioned there might be weapons scattered around."
Lucas didn't mind fighting barehanded, but without access to elemental power, it was safer to rely on the weapon techniques he'd mastered—either the sword or the spear.
――――
Elsewhere in the virtual Inazuma, team assignments had turned out… surprisingly delicate.
On a quiet street, Eula looked at the two women standing before her, the corner of her mouth twitching involuntarily.
Both tall.
Both silver-haired.
Both breathtakingly beautiful, cold, and expressionless—
And both… well-endowed.
She could hardly believe that two women could look so similar and yet have such completely different auras.
One was, of course, Shenhe. The other—much to Eula's disbelief—was none other than—
"La Signora of the Fatui," Eula muttered, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
Indeed, the other woman was the Eighth Fatui Harbinger herself. As captain of the Knights of Favonius Reconnaissance Company and a descendant of the Lawrence Clan, Eula had crossed paths with the Fatui before. She knew exactly who stood before her.
"I go where I please," La Signora said with a cold smile. "And you, a Knight of Favonius, appearing here—doesn't that seem equally strange?"
"You two know each other?" Shenhe interrupted impatiently. "So, Eula, what about our fight?"
"Ugh, why did I have to end up in a team with you?" Eula folded her arms, exasperated. "And on top of that, they took away our weapons!"
"No weapons? Then use your fists." Shenhe cracked her knuckles. "Or are you afraid?"
"Who said I'm afraid!?" Eula retorted, biting her lip. "It's just… we're supposed to be on the same team, aren't we?"
She hated to admit it, but in unarmed combat, Shenhe clearly held the advantage. With weapons, Eula could at least hold her ground—but without them, she'd be completely outmatched.
"So what?" La Signora said with a laugh, watching from the side. "There's no rule against teammates killing each other. If one of you dies, the survivor earns points. Isn't that convenient?"
"I see!" Eula's eyes narrowed. "You just want to sit back and watch us tear each other apart, then swoop in after we're both exhausted and finish us off for free points, don't you?"
La Signora arched a brow. "Don't flatter yourself. Why would I wait for that? I could crush you both right now with a flick of my finger."
The three of them were all proud and headstrong. If it had been only two, they would have already come to blows. But with three, a strange equilibrium formed—each wary of striking first and being taken advantage of by the other two.
"Enough," Shenhe said coolly after several minutes of tense silence. "This is a waste of time. Instead of standing here glaring at each other, we should split up. Once we qualify, we can fight properly."
"That… actually makes sense," Eula admitted reluctantly. "La Signora, you don't have any objections, do you?"
Eula was proud, but not reckless. Without weapons, she was at a clear disadvantage, and if they really fought now, she would be the one to suffer.
"None at all," La Signora said indifferently. "The farther you stay from me, the better. I'd rather not have you two slowing me down."
And so, after a brief discussion, the three icy beauties turned and went their separate ways.
――――
Back on Lucas's side, they'd actually found something useful.
Dehya hadn't located her usual greatsword, but she'd discovered a heavy iron club—broad at the head and narrow at the handle. It was well-balanced and felt decent in her hands.
Lucas wasn't so lucky. He searched the entire tavern without finding a proper sword or spear. In the end, he settled for anything usable as a single-handed weapon.
At last, after combing through the place, he stepped into a bedroom—clearly the innkeeper's quarters. From the furnishings and the cosmetics scattered on the vanity, it was obvious this had once been a woman's room.
It seemed the Raiden Shogun had put quite a bit of effort into crafting this illusionary world.
Though he had no idea whose private room this was, the urgency of the situation left Lucas with no time for manners. He began searching the place at once.
Still, trying to find a usable weapon in a single woman's bedroom wasn't exactly promising. After combing through every corner and finding nothing of use, his enthusiasm waned. With a sigh, he sat down on the bed.
Wait… something beneath him felt hard, pressing against his leg.
Frowning, Lucas reached under the blanket—and pulled out a slender rod.
It wasn't quite short, but not long either—somewhere in between. And the shape of its rounded tip was… peculiar.
Given that it had been tucked beneath a single woman's blanket, it didn't take much imagination to guess what it was for.
More curiously, it had a handle at one end. When he twisted it slightly, the once-still object began to vibrate with a loud buzz.
Well then. That was some serious power.
Lucas couldn't help but wonder—what kind of woman could handle such an artifact?
But if everything in this virtual world had been created by the Raiden Shogun herself… why would something like this exist here?
Either everything in this illusion had been copied wholesale from the real world, or perhaps even the Shogun herself had no idea what this thing actually was.
Just as he was about to set it down, the system prompt suddenly chimed in his ears.
Talent Activated: "A Knight Never Fights Barehanded"
A Knight Never Fights Barehanded (Epic): You can wield any object as a weapon, gaining unique effects.
The rod in his hand glowed with a bright, flesh-toned light.
Weapon Acquired: Fujin Prototype
Rank: B
Effects: When switched on, the weapon vibrates violently, with a chance to paralyze the target on contact.
Due to its highly embarrassing design, striking an enemy has a chance to inflict the "Shame" status.
Description: Use responsibly. Always obtain consent first.
…What?
Lucas stared at the description, his jaw dropping so wide an egg could've fit inside.
This could be used as a weapon?
Not the best time for his talent's passive to trigger!
"Hey! What are you doing in there?"
The door suddenly burst open. Dehya stepped in with an impatient look. "Weren't we supposed to be looking for weapons? What are you—hey, what's that?"
At that moment, Lucas had been sitting on the bed, holding the Fujin Prototype against his thigh, comparing its size to… well, himself. Seeing her suddenly appear, he froze in mortified silence.
Now he understood how Yoimiya must have felt that night when he'd caught her drinking milk in nothing but her nightclothes.
Dehya, however, only looked curious. "What is that thing?"
"A… weapon!" Lucas blurted. "I just found it!"
Thankfully, the straightforward mercenary seemed to have no idea what the object's peculiar tip meant. She took it from him, turning it over in her hands with an intrigued smile.
"A weapon? Looks kind of like a mace. I've seen ones with spikes and blades before, but never a mushroom-shaped head like this. It's so smooth—does it even do any damage?"
As an experienced fighter, Dehya knew her weapons well. Against armored foes, swords were inefficient—maces and hammers were the true tools of veterans. But this… oddly shaped blunt weapon was a first even for her.
As she ran her hand curiously over the rounded top, Lucas felt an odd stirring in his chest—and a mischievous impulse flickered through his mind.
He took the Fujin Prototype back with a sly smile. "Don't underestimate it. This weapon's a lot stronger than it looks."
"Yeah, right," Dehya scoffed. "You could hit someone with that thing and they wouldn't even flinch."
Lucas's grin deepened. Without warning, he pressed the weapon against her bare midriff. His movements were quick, and she hadn't thought to dodge. Feeling the strange object touch her skin, Dehya froze, a strange wave of embarrassment washing over her.
Why… why does this feel so weird?
"Ready?" Lucas asked softly.
Before she could answer, he twisted the handle.
A deep buzz filled the room as the Fujin Prototype sprang to life, trembling violently in his hand.
Dehya had never seen—or felt—anything like it. Her whole body seemed to hum in response, her stomach muscles twitching as gentle ripples spread across her skin.
"Well? How is it?" Lucas blinked, smirking. "Pretty impressive, huh?"
"N-not… not impressive at all…" Dehya's words trembled as much as her voice.
The strange tingling coursing through her wasn't painful in the slightest—in fact, it was almost… pleasant. Her knees felt weak, her strength fading as a warmth spread through her body.
Still denying it?
Lucas narrowed his eyes and twisted the handle again, turning up the power. The buzzing grew louder. Dehya's body went rigid, and a muffled sound escaped her lips.
He had to admit—the desert-born mercenary had remarkable endurance. Any other woman would've already collapsed into a helpless heap.
"I see you two are having fun."
A's voice drifted lazily from the doorway. Leaning against the frame, she smiled at the sight before her. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"
Lucas immediately withdrew the weapon, and Dehya—sweating and dazed—braced herself on the bed to keep from falling. Her legs trembled as she tried to stand, her eyes hazy and unfocused, her breath unsteady.
The battle-hardened mercenary clearly wasn't used to this kind of experience. The moment Dehya tried to stand, her legs gave out beneath her, and she nearly fell flat on the floor.
Fortunately, A moved quickly, catching her just in time.
But when A glanced toward the bed, she couldn't suppress a mischievous smile.
"Tsk, tsk. What's this puddle all over the sheets?"
Sure enough—the spot where Dehya had been sitting was completely soaked. The reason, of course, needed no explanation.
"T-that's sweat!" Dehya's face flushed crimson as she blurted out an excuse. "I… I'm going to step outside for a bit!"
She hobbled out of the room, one unsteady step after another, clearly needing time to recover from Lucas's little "experiment."
Once she was gone, A raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So that's what the strange noises were earlier. You two were playing some sort of… interesting little game, huh? But that thing in your hand—tsk, tsk…"
"Don't get the wrong idea!" Lucas said quickly. "It's just a weapon!"
"A weapon designed to be used on women, maybe?" A teased. "That excuse might work on someone innocent like Dehya, but me? I'm a well-traveled woman—I've seen plenty of things."
She put extra emphasis on the word old, drawing it out just enough to make Lucas blink in confusion.
"You're kidding, right? You look way too young to call yourself that," he said. Even though she wore a mask that hid half her face, the smooth, pale skin and agile movements made it obvious she was no older than him.
"By the way..."
Lucas took a few steps closer, frowning as he studied the half of her face that was visible. "Have I… seen you somewhere before?"
A froze for a heartbeat, then let out a laugh. "Oh? Such a dated pickup line. Do you use that on every woman you meet?"
"I'm serious—"
Clang!
Before he could finish, the sound of clashing weapons erupted from outside. Lucas immediately rushed for the door. "Dehya! What's going on!?"
A stayed behind, patting her chest with a sigh. "Whew. That was close. Almost got recognized. Hmph, most men who've met me never forget my face. For him to say 'you look familiar'—he must have met too many beautiful women."
Chuckling to herself, she followed him out at a leisurely pace.
In the tavern's main hall, Dehya was locked in combat with two masked opponents dressed in tight black suits that revealed feminine outlines.
One wielded a kunai, the other a short blade. Their technique wasn't on Dehya's level, but in the cramped space, her heavy iron club was difficult to swing. The two women moved with strange, unpredictable patterns, their strikes aimed directly at her vital points.
That, however, wasn't the only reason Dehya was struggling. After Lucas's earlier "experiment," her legs were still weak, and she couldn't exert her full strength.
A flash of steel cut through the air—blood splattered. A thin line appeared on Dehya's wrist, and her weapon fell from her grasp.
"Dammit!"
She cursed under her breath, giving up on her weapon altogether. Clenching her fists, she charged at her opponents head-on.
They hadn't expected the disarmed mercenary to become more ferocious. Before they could react, Dehya's punch connected with one of them, sending both reeling backward with a grunt.
Just as she began to turn the tide, a chain suddenly dropped from the ceiling, wrapping around her wrist.
A small figure leapt down from the rafters, using gravity to her advantage to yank Dehya off her feet and hoist her into the air.
The newcomer looked young—dressed in an adorable hooded outfit, a large fluffy tail swaying behind her.
"Ugh! You little raccoon!" Dehya snarled, thrashing in midair. "You dare use dirty tricks against me!?"
"I'm not a raccoon! I'm a tanuki!" the girl corrected sharply. "And in battle, strategy is not a trick—it's intelligence."
"Sayu!"
Lucas arrived just then, blinking in surprise. "It's you?"
Indeed—it was Sayu of the Shuumatsuban. Lucas had seen her several times during his stay at the Kamisato Estate.
"You?" Sayu tilted her head, looking equally unimpressed. "Ugh. What a hassle. I didn't want to fight someone I actually know."
"What are you even doing in a tournament like this?" Lucas asked, puzzled. "I thought someone like you, who hates trouble, would steer clear of all this."
"This isn't a tournament," Sayu replied lazily. "It's an assessment. Some of us from the Shuumatsuban were inserted into the match. The number of targets we eliminate counts toward our end-of-year evaluation."
Seriously? They're even competing for performance reviews?
That explained everything. The other two masked women were likely Shuumatsuban members too. And the fact that they'd started the fight armed from the very beginning… there was no way this wasn't rigged.
The Shuumatsuban weren't known for their direct combat prowess, but when working together, they could be a tricky team to face. Even Dehya would've struggled against their coordination.
"Hey!" Dehya shouted from where she hung suspended, swinging her body in frustration. "Are you two done chatting? Hurry up and take these three down! Especially that little brat—I'm gonna smash her racoohead in!"
"I told you, I'm not a raccoon," Sayu muttered, shaking her head. "Even if you're the man Lady Ayaka favors, I won't be holding back. Let's go."
"So," Lucas said, glancing at A beside him, "I take it you're not planning to help?"
"Of course not." A was now lounging at the bar counter, smiling as if she were watching a show. "Enemies of this level shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"
"Don't underestimate the Shuumatsuban!" said the woman with the kunai coldly. "Sayu, for the sake of this year's bonus, let's go all out!"
"Hey, hey," Lucas said helplessly. "You're part of the Yashiro Commission's direct unit—are you sure it's okay to talk like that out loud?"
"There's nothing wrong with what Manaka said," Sayu replied seriously. "After all, the meaning of Shuumatsuban is 'those who fight for weekends and year-end bonuses.'"
"That can't be right!" Lucas rubbed his temples. "Sorry to say this, but I'm afraid your performance evaluation ends here."
"Enough talk!" The girl called Manaka hurled a kunai straight at him. "Sayu, Kome, let's go!"
Without even flinching, Lucas reached out and caught the spinning blade between two fingers. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to hit me."
"Hmph. Got you!" Manaka sneered. "Behold the Shuumatsuban's secret art—Hidden Mist Technique!"
The tip of the kunai suddenly cracked open, spewing a dense white smoke that filled the tavern in seconds. The room turned into a clouded haze where nothing could be seen but drifting fog.
"This isn't a 'secret art,'" Lucas muttered, exasperated. "You just shoved a smoke bomb into a kunai."
"There's no such thing as real ninjutsu," Sayu's voice echoed faintly from within the mist, now near, now far. "You've read too many weird light novels. Now, disappear quietly into the smoke and—eh?"
Before she could finish, a sudden gust of wind roared through the room. The white fog vanished instantly, swept clean as if it had never been there.
"Wh-what!?" Kome gasped. "Where did that wind come from?"
By all logic, wind like that could only be conjured through the power of a Vision—but Visions had been disabled for this trial. Not only that, but even other special powers shouldn't have worked within the Raiden Shogun's illusion.
The reason was simple. Lucas's control over wind didn't come from a Vision. It came from the god of tornadoes himself, Decarabian. Gods and Archons alike had once been born from ancient demon gods; the Shogun's illusion could never suppress the power of one.
In truth, the elemental energy Lucas commanded far surpassed that of any Vision. But he had no intention of "cheating." Using a light breeze to clear the smoke—he figured that much was fair.
"The game's over." Lucas walked toward the three trembling kunoichi, his voice calm. "You need kills to earn points… so I'm afraid this is goodbye."
Just as he prepared to strike, the three exchanged quick glances and lunged at once—coming at him from three directions.
Individually, their strength wasn't much. Sayu was the only real threat; the other two were, at best, third-rate fighters. But their coordination was sharp—three bodies moving like one, their timing flawless. It was easy to see how even Dehya had struggled against them.
Lucas sighed. "I really didn't want to use this. You forced my hand."
He reached behind his back and drew out a short, rod-like object. Before the three could even identify it, he swung it three times at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
All three felt a sharp sting across their faces before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.
"That's just cruel," A said, shaking her head. "Using that thing on a woman's face?"
Indeed—the weapon was none other than the Fujin Prototype. With no edge and only a soft, dull impact, it hadn't killed them—only knocked them out.
"You can't blame me," Lucas said with a strained smile. "It's the only thing I've got to work with."
"Enough chatting!"
Suddenly, something tightened around his neck. Dehya, still dangling from the chain above, had wrapped her legs around him in a powerful chokehold.
"Let me down already!" she barked.
He was stronger than her by far, but her thighs—solid with muscle and heat—held him in place like iron. Lucas struggled briefly, then gave in. "Alright, alright, just let go first!"
"No way!" Dehya growled. "Not until you know what it's like to be trapped!"
"Then don't blame me for this…"
Lucas reached behind himself, pressing the Fujin Prototype between his neck and the crossing of her thighs—and twisted the handle.
A violent vibration roared to life, shaking the air. Lucas nearly saw stars from the shock rattling his skull—but it had the desired effect. Dehya's powerful hold instantly loosened, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Just as he began to breathe again, he felt something warm and damp drip against his back. And then came the faintest, ambiguous scent.
"D-don't turn around!" Dehya's voice wavered, on the edge of tears. "It's… it's sweat! Just sweat!"
Lucas glanced down at the floor, spotting droplets the same sandy hue as her homeland. "There's a bath in the other room," he said gently. "You might want to wash up a bit. I think there's a change of clothes there too."
It was clearly an excuse to save her pride—but she still hesitated. "But my shorts and boots… they're soaked too."
"No problem." Lucas's gaze drifted toward the three unconscious ninjas. "There are three full outfits right here… well, two, at least."
Considering Sayu's petite frame, the total fabric in her outfit probably wouldn't be enough for Dehya to make a single skirt.
――――
Ten minutes later.
"Ugh…"
Sayu, the strongest of the three, was the first to regain consciousness. All three had been bound tightly with chains, and before long, Kome and Manaka stirred as well.
But almost immediately, they noticed something strange.
"Sayu, what's with your face?" Manaka asked, squinting at her. "There's some kind of red mark on it… looks weird."
"Ha… hahaha!" Kome burst out laughing. "It's such a funny pattern!"
"What?" Sayu blinked, confused. "But you two have the same marks. Wait—are they… the same as mine?"
The three of them seemed to realize something at the same time. They quickly stood and turned toward the full-length mirror in the room—only to find identical marks imprinted on each of their faces.
But having trained as ninjas in the Shuumatsuban since childhood, their minds were simple and disciplined. They had no idea what the strange symbol might mean.
"I remember... I think I was knocked out by something blunt," Kome murmured, trying to recall the moment before she lost consciousness. "I couldn't even see that man's movements clearly. Is he really just a B-rank target?"
The Shuumatsuban maintained a list compiled from intelligence division reports, cataloguing key figures and their "danger levels," so members could roughly gauge the difficulty of their assignments.
Naturally, the Raiden Shogun and Yae Miko were listed as S-rank without question. Experts like Kujou Sara were classified as A-rank, and even though little was known about Shenhe, her status as a disciple of the Adepti earned her the same grade.
Arataki Itto, on the other hand, was rated D-rank—not because he lacked strength, but simply because his intellect was… questionable. He was easy to deal with for that very reason.
As for Lucas's "ranking," it had been assigned based on the limited information available. Since he'd never displayed any notable power, the best they could do was mark him as B-rank—dangerous, perhaps, but not unbeatable.
"Intelligence can be wrong sometimes," said Manaka, noticeably calmer than the others. "But wasn't the point of the qualifying rounds to earn points by killing? Why are we... still alive?"
"If they've kept us alive," Sayu replied, her tone far more mature than her childlike face, "then they must want to extract information from us. But trying to control me this way... is far too naive."
Kome and Manaka's eyes immediately lit up with anticipation. "Sayu-senpai—you're going to use that, aren't you?"
"That's right." Sayu nodded. "This outfit my master made for me isn't just for show. Watch closely—Muho Style Ninjutsu: Cicada Shell Technique!"
Just as the name implied, the jutsu mimicked a cicada shedding its shell. A puff of smoke burst from the gaps in Sayu's clothing, and in the next instant, her body slipped free of the chains—appearing before her two fellow kunoichi.
What remained shackled in her place was only the tanuki-like outfit she was so often mistaken for wearing. The Cicada Shell Technique could only be performed in tandem with that very garment.
Sayu's Muho-style ninjutsu was never meant for direct combat; it specialized in misdirection and trickery. Escape techniques like this one were her forte—and she had plenty of them.
Yet as the freed girl stood before them, both Kome and Manaka blushed faintly. Sayu blinked in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Sayu-senpai, you..." Kome's eyes darted awkwardly, unsure where to look. "You're... not wearing anything underneath?"
Sayu froze for half a heartbeat, then looked down. Sure enough—white skin. Still, she forced herself to stay composed. "Th-this is to reduce weight. You two still have a lot to learn."
Her juniors exchanged looks, expressions caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. For a ninja, keeping one's body light was indeed important—but in all of Shuumatsuban, no one was lighter than Sayu. Did she really need to reduce weight even more?
"Enough talking." Sayu quickly changed the subject. "I'll get you both out of these chains, then—"
Before she could finish, the door creaked open. Lucas stepped inside. "You're awake already, I see... huh?"
There she was—kneeling on the floor, head lowered, working a hairpin into the lock on her companions' restraints. Because her back was turned and she hadn't had time to dress, Lucas got a perfectly clear view.
The sound of the door startled Sayu. She whipped her head around, saw him staring, and realized what he'd seen. Her face went crimson. "D-don't look!"
"Hey, you're the one sneaking around," Lucas said flatly, exasperated. "And honestly... there's not much worth looking at anyway."
Indeed, Lucas had no particular interest in her body—he wasn't exactly drawn to petite, Klee-sized figures.
"H-how dare you insult me like that!"
Sayu had always been sensitive about her height, and Lucas had struck right at the sore spot. Furious, she forgot all about escaping and slammed her hands together in a seal. "Muho Style Ninjutsu—Shadow Tanuki Mirage!"
"It's here!" Kome and Manaka cried in unison. "Sayu-senpai's strongest technique!"
A rapid series of poof sounds echoed through the room. As the smoke cleared, Lucas suddenly found himself facing seven or eight identical Sayus.
For a moment, he couldn't help but feel impressed—finally, a ninja technique that actually looked the part in this world.
"Well?" Sayu said smugly. "Stunned by my ninjutsu?"
"It's... interesting, sure," Lucas muttered, scratching his cheek. "But... why are all of you naked?"
Yes—every single clone stood before him completely bare. The sight was… quite something.
"Of course they are!" Manaka blurted out. "The whole point of this jutsu is to hide the real one! If the clones were dressed, the real, undressed Sayu-senpai would be exposed instantly!"
Come to think of it… that actually made sense.
Before Lucas could respond, all seven or eight Sayus lunged at him at once.
For some people, being ambushed by so many naked girls at once might have been paradise.
Using her clones to confuse the target before delivering a killing blow—this was Sayu's ultimate technique. But even as the army of lookalikes rushed in, Lucas remained calm. He reached behind him and drew the Fujin Prototype.
Then came a sharp crack. The short staff struck Sayu square in the stomach.
She let out a small, catlike whimper—"Nngh!"—and in the next instant, every last clone vanished into smoke.
Sayu, struck square in the abdomen, dropped to the floor and curled up, clutching her stomach as she rolled and whimpered, "Ow, ow, ow, ow..."
"As I thought." Lucas dusted off the Fujin Prototype in his hand. "Your ability only allows you to make fake clones, doesn't it?"
"Without the power of a Vision, this is all I can manage..." Sayu bit her lip. "But how... how did you know which one was the real me?"
"Just a hunch," Lucas shrugged. "Out of all the clones, you seemed just a little taller. So I took a swing to test it."
Sayu blinked, momentarily stunned.
Because she was so self-conscious about her height, every clone she created was made slightly shorter—an unconscious indulgence to soothe her tiny bit of vanity.
But the difference was only a few millimeters at most. No normal person should have noticed.
How sharp must his eyes be to catch that?
"It seems we really have no chance left," Sayu murmured. She reached up and pulled two silver needles from her hair. "Sorry... but I have no other choice."
"You're still not giving up?" Lucas tilted his head. "If you're going to pull out hidden weapons, doesn't that defeat the point of a sneak attack?"
"My target... isn't you."
Before he could react, Sayu spun around and flicked both needles toward Manaka and Kome. The two women, however, showed no sign of surprise—only calm acceptance, as though they'd already anticipated this. Their faces were serene, almost heroic.
For members of the Shuumatsuban, "death" wasn't something to fear. If captured during a mission, they would rather die than risk revealing secrets.
And besides, deaths in this qualifying round weren't real. Otherwise, Sayu wouldn't have acted so decisively.
Still, her move caught Lucas completely off guard. If those two died by Sayu's hand, his team wouldn't earn any points!
Without hesitation, he hurled the Fujin Prototype.
With a sharp thunk, the not-so-sturdy staff embedded itself into the wall—and both Manaka and Kome remained unharmed.
A faint silver gleam shimmered along the staff's shaft. The two needles were pinned neatly against it.
He had managed to stop Sayu's suicide attempt. But as he looked at the staff, where the needles stuck into what looked disturbingly like veins, Lucas couldn't help but wince in phantom pain.
"You've been very naughty."
Lucas's tone hardened. Grabbing Sayu, he twisted her arms behind her back and lifted her off the ground. "Now then, out of tricks, aren't you?"
"Well, well. You all seem to be having fun."
A voice came from behind him.
Lucas turned to see A standing in the doorway, smiling slyly. "I didn't expect this. Even little girls are fair game for you, huh?"
At that moment, Sayu's tanuki-like outfit—discarded thanks to her Cicada Shell Technique—lay crumpled nearby. Lucas hurried to explain, "It's not what it looks like!"
"Oh?" A narrowed her eyes. "Then what's with the mark on her stomach?"
Lucas blinked, then realized what she meant. When Sayu had lunged earlier, he'd struck her with the Fujin Prototype—not hard, but hard enough to leave a visible line on her smooth belly. A long, faint welt stretched vertically from her navel to her chest.
From the outside, it looked exactly as if he'd just... "measured" her with the weapon to see if it fit.
Judging by the length of that mark, though, it definitely didn't. If it actually "went in," it would probably go straight to her stomach.
"There's no way that's my fault!" Lucas groaned. "I'm not that—"
He stopped himself before finishing. A man's pride forbade him from completing the thought.
"How should I know?" A giggled. "Maybe you should prove it to me?"
"I'm not proving anything!" Lucas shot back immediately.
"Relax," she said with a teasing smile. "The match is being broadcast, but indoor scenes aren't shown. In other words..." Her voice dropped to a purr. "You can do whatever you like, and no one will ever know."
"You... you're after points, aren't you?" Sayu struggled weakly in his grip. "Just kill us already."
"Since your Shuumatsuban team got in through special channels," Lucas said, cutting straight to the point, "you must have more intel than the average contestant."
Sayu shook her head. "We don't."
"Don't lie," Lucas said with a faint grin. "You all got your preferred weapons right away, and somehow tracked us down instantly. That means you knew where the supplies—and the other contestants—were located."
Sayu's expression faltered for just an instant before she bit down on her lip. "We were just lucky."
"Still playing tough?" Lucas sighed. "Fine—Interrogation Technique."
[Interrogation Technique: Forces the target to answer one question truthfully. Success rate decreases with higher mental strength. Can only be used once per day.]
The skill had helped Lucas many times before, always yielding valuable information.
But this time, just as he waited for her to speak, the system chimed:
[Target's mental strength too high. Interrogation Technique failed.]
It could fail?
Lucas stared blankly for a moment. Then it made sense—Shuumatsuban members underwent rigorous mental training. Their willpower was far beyond that of ordinary people.
"Come on," he said more gently. "No one's going to find out."
Sayu shook her head. Her usually lazy face turned resolute. "It doesn't matter. As a member of the Shuumatsuban, I must protect three things. One of them is information. That's my master's teaching."
Lucas hadn't expected the perpetually drowsy Sayu to have such professional integrity. His eyes softened with a flicker of respect.
"In that case..." He sighed. "I'm sorry about this."
Lucas tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve, bound Sayu's hands and feet, and then blindfolded her.
Deprived of sight, Sayu's heart raced with sudden panic. "W-what are you going to do?"
Lucas took two steps forward and yanked the Fujin Prototype out of the wall. He plucked the silver needles from its tip—it was impressive how sturdy the thing was; not even a scratch on it.
"Since you won't talk," he said, twirling the weapon in his hand, "I'll just see if I can get something useful from your cute little juniors instead." His tongue slid briefly over his lips. "You don't want to watch your comrades suffer, do you?"
"Don't touch them!" Sayu cried. "They don't know anything!"
"Whether they do or not doesn't matter," Lucas replied with a faint smile. "What matters is that you do. So let's start with you."
He lifted the Fujin Prototype and tipped Manaka's chin upward with it. "Good eyes," he said.
"I won't tell you anything," Manaka said firmly. "Sayu-senpai, don't give in for our sake!"
Through the darkness, Sayu couldn't see a thing—but soon, a sharp, vibrating buzz filled the room.
"Wrap it up quickly," A said with a yawn from the doorway. "I'll wait outside. Don't overdo it."
With that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Out in the tavern hall, Dehya had already opened every bottle on the counter, taking swigs from each in search of something drinkable.
"Ugh..." She spat out a mouthful of beer, wrinkling her nose. "Tastes like fermented heather. Disgusting."
A chuckled softly and tapped the neck of the bottle with her finger. "Try it again."
Dehya hesitated, then gave the rim a tentative lick—and her eyes widened. She gulped deeply, savoring it. "Hey! That's actually good! How did you do that?"
"Just a little trick." A waved her hand airily. "Give it a moment. That man should have his information soon."
After all, the illusion the Raiden Shogun had created could only suppress those weaker than her. Against someone of equal strength—or stronger—it was meaningless.
"I still don't get why we have to go through all this trouble," Dehya muttered between long swallows. "Why not just go out and start hacking people up?"
"With fewer than a hundred participants scattered across all of Inazuma City, you won't find anyone by wandering the streets," A replied with a grin. "Spending a little time now to save a lot later—don't you think it's worth it?"
"Fine, fine." Dehya smirked. "As long as there's good booze, I don't mind waiting. Oh, hey—could you turn those other bottles into the good stuff too?"
"Of course." A nodded, lifting her glass. "Drink as much as you want. Tonight—it's on me."
——
Back in the room, Lucas's "punishment" continued.
The low buzzing droned on, punctuated by Manaka's cries of "No—!" and "Stop—!" Her trembling voice rose and fell, until her words were little more than breathless murmurs.
Blindfolded, Sayu's mind raced. Just how terrible is this punishment?
"So quick to break already?" Lucas remarked. Manaka lay collapsed on the floor, her body quivering. He turned his gaze to Kome and smiled. "Then it's your turn."
"I—I won't talk! Do your worst!" Kome's voice was steady, but Sayu thought she heard… anticipation?
No, impossible! Sayu told herself. She just doesn't want to see her comrades suffer. That's all.
I'm sorry, Kome... Manaka... for the sake of our mission, I'll have to let you endure this a little longer.
Once again, the buzzing filled the room—and this time Kome's reaction was far louder. She shrieked, her body jerking as if electrocuted.
"Quite sensitive, aren't you?" Lucas murmured, his voice low and devilish. "The next stage of punishment might be... hard for you to handle."
"I—I won't give in!" Kome stammered, gulping down air. "Do your worst... ah!"
It was probably for the best that the interior scenes weren't broadcast. Otherwise, the audience might think they were watching some twisted tragedy of kunoichi.
After all, this wasn't the real world—no matter what happened here, none of it would affect their bodies outside. That realization gave Lucas the freedom to act without restraint.
"L-let her go!" Manaka groaned, forcing herself upright. "Punish me instead!"
"Manaka, I'm fine!" Kome gasped. "Let me take this... this 'pain' alone!"
Hearing their voices, guilt twisted in Sayu's chest. To protect their secrets, her comrades were enduring unspeakable torment.
"How touching," Lucas sneered. "In that case... you can both suffer together."
After all, he still had more than just the Fujin Prototype at his disposal—he had the real thing as well.
He didn't notice the faint pink aura pulsing from the Ring of Manipulation on his finger, nor did he realize what it meant. If this truly were a completely virtual world like the Simulator claimed... how could such an artifact still be here with him?
Reality and illusion blurred together. It hardly mattered anymore. Lucas seemed determined to prove one thing: no matter how fierce the hardware looked, a toy was still just a toy—and the real thing was always better.
The growing chorus of strained gasps and trembling voices pushed Sayu's mind to the brink. Finally, she broke.
"Stop! Don't hurt them anymore! I'll... I'll tell you what you want to know—"
But before she could finish, both kunoichi shouted at once.
"No! You can't!" Manaka cried. "We can still hold out!"
"That's right," Kome added through ragged breaths. "If we give in now... everything we've done will be for nothing..."
"Don't worry," Manaka said, forcing a weak smile. "His punishment... isn't all that bad."
Just that?
Her tears, her breath, and all those other fluids—none of it seemed to match those words at all.
"Still putting on an act?" Lucas gave a cold snort. "Fine, then let me show you... what we call Liyue speed."
With that, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and slammed his foot all the way down on the accelerator.
Zero to a hundred meters—in under two seconds. In that moment, Lucas was no longer human; he had become a roaring supercar, charging straight toward Manaka's finish line.
Under normal circumstances, Lucas would never unleash such speed. Forget Manaka—who was merely a well-trained kunoichi—even someone like Shenhe, whose body had long surpassed human limits, would have taken serious damage from that force.
In an instant, Manaka's consciousness was almost wiped out.
In a light novel, getting hit by a truck might mean reincarnation. But under normal physics, getting hit by one meant only one thing—death.
At that moment, Manaka instinctively unleashed the first true ninjutsu of her life—Water Stream Jet.
Its power was so overwhelming that even Kome, standing nearby, was caught in the blast, her face splashed in the aftermath.
Lucas let go of the wheel, and with her body limp and unsupported, Manaka collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud.
——
Out in the tavern, the numbers on the nameplates hanging from Dehya's and A's chests, which had been "0," flickered and changed to "1."
"So he finally couldn't resist killing someone?" Dehya said casually. "Still, knowing that guy, he probably didn't use anything too cruel."
Since they all knew death in this world wasn't real, Dehya's tone remained calm. Of course, for someone who'd lived her whole life on the edge of a blade, even real death wouldn't have shocked her much.
"Yeah, I'm curious too," A murmured, tilting her head as she popped a cherry from her drink into her mouth. "I wonder how gently he killed those little kunoichi."
——
Manaka's body twitched once on the floor, then went still.
The number on Lucas's badge changed to "1."
So that was how it worked—only by killing could you earn points. Which meant he had just "killed" her.
As for the cause of death, there was no need to speculate too deeply. It could've been internal damage from the impact—or perhaps cardiac arrest brought on by overwhelming stimulation.
As the medical texts of Liyue recorded:
"Death upon the steed—acute, sudden. If rescue is mishandled, death is certain. Even a Golden Immortal cannot return the soul."
Lucas had heard that phrase applied to men before—but who would've guessed women could die of it too?
Despite her death, Manaka's face still carried a blissful smile.
Indeed, if one could experience such a thing without truly dying... one might call that a life well lived.
"What... what happened?" Sayu stammered, having heard the sound of Manaka's body hitting the ground. "What did you do to her?"
"She's been... thoroughly killed." Lucas paused, realizing how that sounded, and quickly corrected himself. "No—I mean, she's dead through and through."
"You... you..." Sayu sighed softly. "Maybe that's for the best. At least she doesn't have to suffer anymore."
After all, in this place, death only meant the match was over. A quick end was almost a mercy.
"But you heard her screams before she died, didn't you?" Lucas said evenly. "What just happened... she'll remember it for the rest of her life."
He wasn't exaggerating. In truth, that experience had indeed seared itself into Manaka's memory—something she would relive in dreams again and again.
Sayu felt a chill run down her spine. She had never imagined that the usually harmless-looking Lucas could be so ruthless.
"I understand," Sayu said quietly. "I told you I'd share what I know. Just... spare Kome."
"Sayu-senpai!" Kome's voice rang out, resolute. "I... I want to challenge my limits!"
"There's no need for that," Sayu said gently. "The map with the supply points and other contestants' locations is hidden in the tail of my outfit. I've already told you. So please... at least give Kome a quick end."
Escape was impossible now. Sayu could only hope her junior would be spared any prolonged suffering.
Lucas picked up Sayu's discarded outfit and examined it. Sure enough, there was a small, concealed zipper in the tail. Inside, he found a folded map.
"You weren't lying," he said, nodding with satisfaction. "Kome, I keep my promises. Don't worry—I'll give you a death without pain."
A faint blush rose to Kome's cheeks. "Then... could you kill me... the same way you did Manaka?"
"Kome, are you insane?" Sayu exclaimed. "If you do that, everything I just sacrificed will be meaningless!"
"Sayu-senpai," Kome said solemnly, "I want to endure the same pain Manaka did. I can't let her bear that 'misfortune' alone."
It was fortunate Sayu was still blindfolded—otherwise, seeing the almost eager look on Kome's face would have shattered her composure completely.
"Let's begin," Kome said, taking a deep breath. She wrapped her arms around Lucas's neck like a sloth clinging to a tree. "I'm ready to die."
Lucas recognized the gesture immediately—the infamous Train Bento pose, so named because it resembled a food vendor serving boxed lunches on a train.
Only, in his case, the meaning had changed.
The "train" was his speed.
The "bento"... was Kome, about to get hit by the train.
"Alright then," Lucas murmured. "The little train's leaving the station."
A normal body couldn't possibly endure that kind of impact. Barely a minute later, after unleashing the same ninjutsu Manaka had used, Kome reached her own blissful end.
Double kill.
"Your turn, Sayu." Lucas didn't remove her blindfold. "Given how they went, I'll spare you the sight. It's not pretty."
"Do it," Sayu said quietly, her voice empty. "A ninja who fails to protect information... isn't worthy of the name."
"No. You did exceptionally well," Lucas said, lifting his hand. "I'll tell Ayaka you made the right choice. Because for a ninja, there's something more important than information—protecting your comrades... and your master."
Sayu froze for a moment before Lucas's hand came down, sending her out of the game in an instant.
In reality, Lucas had never taken a life with his own hands—but inside the Simulator, who could count how many had already fallen by them? Killing, for him, had long since become effortless.
With his strength, he could ensure that even death came painlessly.
When Sayu opened her eyes again, she found herself back in the real world. Yet instead of the Training Ground, she was lying in what looked like a lounge or resting chamber.
Beside her were Kome and Manaka, both sitting upright and very much alive.
Their expressions, however, were… complicated—nothing like people who'd just been tortured to death.
Seeing Sayu stir, the two quickly snapped out of whatever reverie they'd been lost in and hurried over, fussing around her.
"Sayu-senpai, are you alright?"
"That man—uh, I mean, that guy—he didn't do anything strange to you, did he?"
Sayu blinked at their curious faces and shook her head. "No. I was much luckier than you two. He didn't torture me—just killed me outright."
She rubbed the back of her neck unconsciously. Even among the Shuumatsuban, whose assassins were trained to perfection, perhaps only her master could kill so precisely that she hadn't even felt it before it was over.
But then Kome blurted out, "That's... such a shame."
Sayu tilted her head. "A shame? Why?"
"She—she just means it's a pity we didn't score more points in the qualifying round!" Manaka jumped in quickly. "Definitely not for any other reason!"
Sayu narrowed her eyes at the two of them. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"
Both kunoichi instantly flushed bright red, which only deepened her suspicion. Sayu pressed on. "So? What exactly did that man do to you?"
She hadn't intended to reopen that wound, but her instincts told her there was more to this story.
Manaka and Kome exchanged glances before Manaka finally confessed, "He... stood behind me... and slammed his weapon into me again and again. I—I was hit so hard I died."
"How... brutal." A few dark lines formed on Sayu's face.
"M-mine was different," Kome stammered, scratching her cheek. "He held me in his arms and... shook me up and down until I died."
"Unheard-of torture methods..." Sayu muttered under her breath. "I can't even picture it."
Just then, the door to the lounge opened, and Kamisato Ayaka stepped inside with a gentle smile.
"Everyone, you've worked hard."
As the Divine Emissary's Aide, Ayaka herself did not need to participate in the Transmission of Heart. The moment the three kunoichi saw the Kamisato Clan's lady enter, they immediately bowed low in unison.
"We failed. Please punish us."
Though she had no idea what had transpired in the virtual world, Ayaka offered them a kind smile. "Victory and defeat are both part of a warrior's path. Do not dwell on it."
Sayu sighed. "That man truly lives up to your faith in him, Lady Ayaka. His strength... is beyond comprehension."
"Oh?" Ayaka's brows lifted slightly. "The one who defeated you was... Lucas?"
Lucas?
So that was his name.
Kome and Manaka said nothing, but silently etched the name into their memories.
——
While Ayaka continued questioning her subordinates, elsewhere Lucas and his team were already planning their next move.
Spread out across the table before them was the map Lucas had taken from Sayu—not an ordinary map, but a dynamic one. From its owner's position at the center, tiny red dots spread outward, each representing a moving group. Most appeared in clusters of three, some in twos or singles.
"These red dots must be the other contestants' locations," Dehya said, rubbing her chin with a grin. "Convenient, isn't it?"
"Indeed. With this, we can pinpoint enemies in advance and ambush them at will." A nodded approvingly. "No wonder those three little kunoichi gave you such trouble, Miss Dehya."
"D-don't remind me!" Dehya's cheeks flushed. She quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, since we've got this thing, let's go find some opponents. We don't need to ambush them—I can beat anyone head-on—"
She hadn't even finished when a voice echoed down from above.
"Attention: A team has obtained the item Tracking Map. This artifact allows the user to locate all contestants' current positions. However, the team that possesses it will also have their coordinates revealed to everyone else. Positions will update every five minutes."
"Additionally," the voice continued after a pause, "defeating a member of this team will grant triple points."
Triple points. In other words—taking down this one team meant instant advancement.
"Ah, that voice, that stiff recitation," A said with a playful smile. "Must be one of those little tengu."