"Holy Sword, activate!"
As Touji Shidou released the incantation, a holy aura erupted from his blade. Suddenly, the priest seemed to split into three, each version of him unleashing a simultaneous barrage of slashes. The light particles emitted by Excalibur Nightmare reflected against one another, giving physical form to the wielder's memories. Masaomi Yaegaki narrowed his eyes, retreating while narrowly evading the incoming silver flashes by a hair's breadth.
Masaomi observed his mentor's three forms with cold precision. He tracked their stepping speed, the subtle tremors in their sword paths, and the way the dust swirled in their wake. The illusions woven by the Holy Sword were troublesome, but they weren't infallible. Because they were born from memory, there was a minute dissonance in their movements when compared to a combatant fighting in the present.
However, he couldn't afford to be careless. Even if the illusions weren't "real," the brain would misinterpret the steady exposure to the Holy Sword's particles, manifesting pseudo-pain as if the cuts were genuine. He hadn't reached that stage yet, but every phantom strike avoided was a victory for his concentration.
Spotting an opening as the Touji directly in front of him raised his sword, Masaomi kicked up a cloud of grit. He leaped backward just before the blade connected, stealing a glance at his mentor's face. Despite the dust hitting his eyes, the figure didn't blink, continuing the cutting motion without a hitch. Masaomi found his answer.
"First one."
It was a fake. Masaomi slipped past the illusory Shidou and swung his blade, refocusing his intent on the remaining two.
Realizing the first deception had been seen through, the remaining two Shidous shifted into a mirror-image pincer formation. The Holy Sword flared with light, distorting Shidou's arms until it appeared as if he held multiple blades, obscuring his true line of attack. The two priests closed the distance and unleashed a storm of steel.
Out of dozens of strikes, only one was real. A single katana would struggle to parry two sets of attacks. If he couldn't distinguish the truth from the dream, he would take a lethal hit. Masaomi dove to the side to escape the first wave, then dropped into a low slide to pass under the second. However, the maneuver left him off-balance. Touji spun around, his blade already rising for a finishing blow.
"——!"
Before the Holy Sword could descend, Masaomi drew his scabbard and hurled it with everything he had. He timed the throw perfectly for the moment Touji committed to his swing—a window where the Holy Sword couldn't be redirected to swat the projectile away. Forced to abort his follow-up, Touji back-stepped, the scabbard whistling past his feet and clattering onto the stone floor behind him.
The distance between them reset. The ruse was over; the two illusions vanished, and both men adjusted their stances, breathing hard. They were back to where they started, staring each other down. How many exchanges has it been now?
The illusions required a buildup of light particles, meaning they couldn't be used indefinitely. Shidou had intended to end it there, but Masaomi was moving better than expected, and his own movements felt leaden. Despite the Holy Sword's power, he hadn't landed a single decisive blow. Masaomi's concentration had reached a fever pitch, allowing him to navigate the nightmare with surgical precision.
Masaomi was being careful, refusing to parry the illusory blades and only deflecting the real steel to avoid scattering more of the sword's particles. Touching the phantasms only increased the sword's power to pull the mind into a dream. Against a mindless monster, it was a perfect trap; against a man who knew the sword's mechanics as well as Masaomi, it was a diminishing asset.
"…You're lucky that was the real me," Touji noted. "If you'd aimed that scabbard at a ghost, you'd be dead right now."
"I sensed a slight dissonance in the movement. I decided to trust my gut. And if I'd missed..."
Touji tried to shake Masaomi's confidence, but the younger man only offered a thin smile. Suddenly, a faint metallic ring reached Touji's ears. His instincts screamed. He twisted his body reflexively just as a shadow whistled past the nape of his neck. A cold sweat broke across his brow.
"As expected."
"…A wire attached to the scabbard. If it had been a ghost, you would have pulled the wire to strike the real me from behind."
"It's an ambush technique a comrade in the Exorcists taught me," Masaomi said. "I thought it looked cool, so I practiced it in secret."
"Smith taught you that, didn't he? That idiot... I remember him cutting his own arms trying to act like an 'expert' from some Japanese anime. I see he never gave up on it."
Touji realized that before the purge, his subordinates had likely been teaching the "scabbard-boomerang" to their younger colleague as a joke. Masaomi was clumsy in daily life but remarkably dexterous in combat. Because of his earnest personality, he'd actually mastered the "joke" techniques and turned them into viable weapons.
Touji had chosen this training hall for its lack of cover, wanting to maximize his illusions and limit Masaomi's tactical options. He hadn't expected his own men's "anime-inspired" hobbies to come back and haunt him.
"Fifty-three..." Masaomi whispered.
He pulled his left arm back, catching the returning scabbard and sheathing it at his hip. He was counting the exchanges. In a long battle, the Holy Sword's attrition would favor Touji. He needed to settle this before they reached a hundred strikes. He was past the halfway point, and his expression hardened.
Touji's movements were indeed slowing, but the distance between them remained an impassable wall. His mentor had discarded all hesitation after hearing Masaomi's resolve. Paradoxically, this brought Masaomi no sadness. Through the clash of steel, he felt his mentor's challenge: Surpass me. This was a duel of raw, naked conviction.
Masaomi wanted to answer that challenge with everything he had, but he forced himself to stay focused on the plan. He felt the hard shape of the dart in his sleeve. He wasn't alone in this fight. He had a role to play.
'Don't obsess over winning the duel, Masaomi. Prioritize Cleria's safety.'
I know, he answered the memory of her voice. Settlement with Touji mattered, but it was secondary to the promise of returning with Cleria.
He had bought enough time. Kanata and the others should have found her by now. Once she was safe, the signal would come through the magic item. Once she was secured, Masaomi had no reason to stay. However, escaping a master like Shidou would be no easy feat. If he couldn't break through alone, he'd have to stall until reinforcements arrived.
The thought of those reinforcements actually terrified him. Kanata was a support type; he wouldn't come alone. Reinforcements meant a "Magical Girl" or a "Super Robot" would descend on Touji Shidou. He didn't want to see his mentor's spirit—or his stomach—crushed by that level of absurdity.
"…Still."
He shook his head, focusing back on the blade. He could likely only survive one or two more full clashes before the Holy Sword's effect compromised his senses. If he couldn't defeat Touji by then, he would give up on the win and focus purely on defense. If he survived, he'd beg Kanata to use his Gear to heal Touji's ulcers later.
He had the trump card from Kanata, but he wanted to save it. Using the boy's Gift for his own selfish desire to win felt disrespectful to the child who was worried about him. The dart had already done its job by giving him the mental peace of mind to fight this far. Masaomi took a deep breath, preparing for the next collision.
+++
"…You're remarkably composed," Touji noted. "The fact that you aren't panicking makes me think you've got something else up your sleeve."
"If I lose my cool against you, I'm dead," Masaomi replied.
"That's not what I mean. We've crossed blades fifty times. I expected you to go for a quick finish, knowing the sword's traits. That's why I focused on defense—I wanted to spread the light particles and wear you down."
Masaomi realized Touji had been stalling too. They had both survived without a scratch because neither had truly committed to an offensive. Masaomi had focused on survival; Touji had focused on the long game.
For humans, a single strike decided everything. Against monsters, they survived through evasion and precision. Touji, with over a decade more experience, was the master of reading the flow. He had been waiting for Masaomi's desperation to create a gap in his guard. But the gap never came.
Touji realized Masaomi was hiding something. And until he forced the boy to reveal it, he couldn't win. He smirked, inwardly praising his student's growth.
Fine then. Surpass your master's best.
Shidou shifted his stance. The defensive arc of his blade tilted forward into a predatory lunge. He prepared to use his own trump card.
"Well, this is going to make the paperwork a nightmare."
"…Touji?"
"Let me show you, Masaomi. The true power of a Holy Sword. A technique I reserved only for those I am sworn to defeat. Let me show you how terrifying a Church warrior can be when his fangs are bared."
A chill ran down Masaomi's spine. He leaped back, raising his blade. Touji closed the distance in a blur, the pressure of the Holy Sword vibrating through Masaomi's entire body as their steel met. Masaomi gritted his teeth and redirected the force.
He tried to counter-attack, but as he stepped in, his eyes went wide.
"Ugh...!"
Shidou held the Holy Sword in one hand; in the other was a gleaming white pistol. The barrel was aimed directly at Masaomi's lead foot. He kicked off the floor with his left leg, narrowly escaping the line of fire. The deafening crack of the gunshot made his ears ring and his vision swim. He scrambled to get out of the sword's range.
"Naive."
The word reached him through the tinnitus. Shidou's Holy Sword flared, and multiple waves of holy energy erupted from the blade. Masaomi knew most were illusions, but judging them in a split second was impossible. He cut through the ones that threatened him and evaded the rest. Shidou followed up with three more shots from the pistol, weaving the real bullets into a web of illusory tracers.
One bullet grazed Masaomi's left arm. He suppressed a cry of pain, his eyes scanning for Shidou's next move. Holy-aligned firearms were standard Exorcist gear, but he hadn't expected the Holy Sword's effect to extend to the projectiles.
"Humans and humanoids are slaves to their senses," Touji said. "That's why this is so effective."
He leveled the gun at Masaomi once more. He pulled the trigger once. A single, straight shot. Masaomi prepared to deflect it with his blade, but suddenly, the Sacred Gear dart in his sleeve emitted a faint, warm pulse.
His instincts took over. He twisted his body. A bullet whistled past him, followed immediately by a second impact on the wall behind him. Masaomi stared in horror. In his mind, there had only been one shot. He had only seen one flash, heard one bang. But there were two bullet holes in the stone.
I didn't see it. I didn't hear it. Despite only fifty exchanges, his senses were already compromised. He couldn't trust his eyes or ears. He couldn't even be sure if the Shidou standing before him was real.
"You noticed," Touji said.
"When... how? A replica of Excalibur Nightmare shouldn't have such immediate lethality."
"You're right. It doesn't. So I decided to give it a boost."
Touji pulled a small, glowing crystal from his pocket. Masaomi stared at the holy aura it emitted. It was identical to the energy of the Holy Sword.
"You know the Church has researched Holy Swords for centuries. We have plenty of compatible hosts, but the swords themselves are finite. We couldn't give everyone a real one. Low-tier blades made by alchemy are unreliable for elite warriors. So, we developed the technology to extract the essence of a true Holy Sword and replicate it."
These replicas only possessed a fraction of the original's power, but they could mimic its unique traits. The technology was still experimental; the users were required to report back on performance and participate in testing. Touji was using one of those research results.
"This crystal temporarily overclocks the replica's traits. I've only used it once before. It allows the blade to create illusions as perfect and deadly as the original."
"…So I'm already trapped in the dream."
"We both are. The illusion convinced my own body that my 'health problems' are gone. For the next few minutes, I am at my absolute peak."
Masaomi was speechless. Shidou had used an illusion to "erase" his own physical agony. The one advantage Masaomi had held was gone. But if such a powerful item existed, why wait until now?
"There's a catch, isn't there?" Masaomi asked.
"Correct. It forces the sword into a state of rampage. If the wielder's mind isn't strong enough, the blade will consume them. And once the effect ends, the replica will be shattered beyond repair. It is a double-edged sword in the literal sense."
The strain on the user's mind was immense, and the weapon would be destroyed. The Church only authorized its use as a final resort for elite hosts. It only lasted a few minutes, and any allies nearby were at risk of being caught in the chaotic output. Currently, the Church was reconsidering the item's use due to the high risk of mutual destruction, but in this era of "results over lives," there were no restrictions.
"But it's more than enough time to kill you, Masaomi. I've told you the secret; now you can die without regrets."
"Why go that far...?"
"…The Church isn't all light and grace. Human experimentation is common. An organization dedicated to protecting lives uses lives to kill monsters. We have a deep, ugly shadow. …But I'm the one who chose this path. I chose the power to cut down the enemies of humanity."
Touji offered a pained, tearful smile.
"I spent my life looking away from that reality, lying to myself to survive. But you chose to fight back against the 'World.' That means the Church's darkness will pursue you without mercy. It will try to trample your resolve and crush you with its logic."
"Touji..."
"Now, Masaomi. This is everything I have. …Show me how you fight the unreasonable!"
Shidou's form blurred, splitting into dozens of copies. Unlike the previous puppets, these ones moved with distinct, human-like fluidity, each radiating a lethal fighting spirit. Masaomi couldn't tell which was real. The instincts that had saved him his whole life were useless.
But he didn't give up. Touji spoke of the "unreasonable world"—Masaomi had already been taught that lesson. He had felt the frustration of powerlessness and the terror of losing what he loved. And every time, he had been saved.
The last three months had dismantled his worldview. If he had been alone, he would have saved no one. Not Cleria, not his comrades, not even himself. And according to the logic of this world, that was the "correct" outcome. The weak cannot stand against the strong.
So what? If the enemy attacks with an unreasonable power, he would answer with an even greater absurdity. If he couldn't stand alone, he would stand with his friends. He wouldn't wait for a miracle from God; he would seize one with his own hands.
"Let's go, everyone."
The fear vanished from Masaomi's eyes. His black gaze pierced through the illusions to the man at the center. The wishes of everyone who believed in him became the fire in his soul. He focused until he was the blade, radiating a pressure that threatened to cut through the very air.
Touji was coming with his whole soul. If Masaomi turned his back, he would be executed. Evasion was no longer an option. He had to meet him head-on. He had one final trump card that Touji didn't know about. He just had to find the moment to play it.
The climax of the duel between master and student was at hand.
+++
"Hmm..."
"What is it, Kanata?"
We were carrying Cleria, almost at the exit of the basement, when my legs suddenly felt heavy. I didn't know why, but I felt a prickling sensation that told me ignoring this feeling would be a mistake. We needed to get her to safety so we could use teleportation, and I needed to contact Masaomi. But something was holding me back. My heart wouldn't settle.
"…Partner?" I whispered.
The moment I spoke, I felt a surge of certainty. This was a signal from my Sacred Gear. A Gear is linked to the host's soul; it pulses when danger is near. But this wasn't the usual "danger" vibe. It was a resonance.
Sacred Gears are powered by feelings. My Partner had always answered my wishes. I decided to trust this feeling above all else. Even if it was "blind faith," the results my Partner had given me earned that trust.
Lovestar's whiskers twitched, but he didn't rush me. I thought it through. Masaomi had a piece of my Gear—the dart. We were still connected.
It felt like that time I'd used the segmented spear to interfere with Lavinia's Absolute Demise during the fight with Tannin. My Partner had communicated through the link to help me control the merged power. He was doing the same now—relaying Masaomi's status to me.
"…Lovestar. I think..."
"Did the Gear tell you something?"
"Yeah. I don't think we can leave yet. I have no proof, but... I have a bad feeling."
I struggled to explain it. 'I have a bad feeling' isn't a tactical briefing. But Mephisto just sighed and began to groom his face with his paws.
"The 'Sensing of the Host,' as my friend calls it?"
"Yes! Exactly!"
"If we don't move now, it'll be too late. I suspected Shidou had a trump card, but I thought Masaomi could handle it... wait. I see. If he uses the Holy Sword's peak, he can strike at Masaomi's emotional core. If Touji Shidou is serious about his duty, he'll use the one trick that only works on a man like Masaomi."
"What?"
Mephisto understood the ambiguity of my senses. But his explanation made my blood run cold. A trick that only works on Masaomi.
Masaomi was strong. In the original series, even when he was corrupted, he'd faced Xenovia's Durandal head-on and parried every strike. But back then, he was fighting with raw power, not his refined technique.
And fighting the Gremory peerage with power was a suicide mission. That team used "Breast Power" to secure victories in ways that defied all logic. They were a parade of unreasonable miracles. Actually, wasn't the Hero Faction the biggest victim of Issei's perversion? I'll never forget the Kyoto or Ophis arcs. I shook off the thought.
"Is Masaomi in danger?" Cleria asked, her voice trembling.
"Lord Mephisto, please! Let me go to him! Touji won't hurt me, right?"
"…Even so, it's too dangerous. And honestly, we aren't exactly a combat-ready unit. I could use the 'Ham-un-te' to distract him, but..."
Director, I really don't want to see my boss explode. But we were out of time. Cleria couldn't fight. I couldn't guarantee a hit with my spear. Wait... didn't my 'Magical Girl' lightning have a homing property? I'd used it against the Exorcists earlier, but it had missed. Firing blindly wouldn't work.
What could we do for him? If we could just stop Shidou for a second, Masaomi could finish it. We needed an unexpected move that bypassed an elite warrior's danger-sense.
Cleria gripped my shoulders tighter in her anxiety. I felt her pressing against my back. Since I had "Erased" my impure thoughts, it wasn't a problem, but it did help me focus.
And that was when I had a breakthrough.
Wait. Maybe... maybe this will work! With my magic and Cleria's help, we can land a hit on Shidou!
"Lovestar! I have an idea!"
"…Haa. Here we go. The 'Kanata Climax Pattern' is repeating itself."
Why do you sound so tired, boss?
"…So that's the plan. Cleria, can you do it?"
"Yes... I think I can. It's embarrassing, but if it saves Masaomi..."
"It might need one more push," Lovestar mused. "…Fine. We'll be ruthless Devils and strike Shidou's weakness. Cleria, are you prepared to go all-out to save him?"
"Yes! Of course!"
Kanata and Cleria shared a look of confusion at Lovestar's vague wording, but they agreed. Mephisto had been scouting the town with his familiars; he likely knew a weakness of Shidou's that we didn't. We had to raise our win percentage by any means necessary.
With our preparations complete, we hurried back toward the battlefield.