What the hell was he thinking?

Genichirou Shoei stared in confusion at the scene laid out before him.

What the actual hell was he thinking?

It was so idiotic Genichirou let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

He had killed Ariyama Saato. That was for sure. The part that confused him was Ariyama’s last, desperate plan. He had managed to reach the girl – Genichirou had already forgotten her name – and turn to face the storm of blades heading his way. However, he didn’t do that weird thing where he burst into an aura of blazing white heat and cast away Genichirou’s knives instantly. No, instead, he swung his rusted sword lazily and deflected only four of the knives, letting the other eight spear through him.

That blonde bitch was awake now, screaming Ariyama’s name like an annoying parrot. Genichirou was itching to kill her after this. Maybe he’d do something else to her first before killing her, all depending on how he felt. But right now, he was feeling annoyingly confused.

He stared at Ariyama, whose head was down, his chin resting on his upper chest, but he was still standing on his feet like a statue. The knives from Genichirou’s Enchanted Tool stuck out of his whole body. All eight of them. There were two in his left leg – one through the thigh and one through the shin – then one through his right knee, two stabbing into his left arm, one through is right, one piercing his stomach and the last one having cut open a gouge across his collarbone before falling to the ground.

Genichirou’s knife Enchanted Tool was called Thornblade Vorpalé, and it worked as such: Using the main knife that was the Tool itself, Genichirou could split it on the molecular level, into a maximum of thirteen copies at one time. Each knife hovered around him and could be fully manipulated by him. Each was also imbued with an ancient affliction from the Reverse World that caused pain to grow and spread across the whole body over time, the source being the main wound inflicted.

All in all, Ariyama was dead meat. With seven full magically-empowered knives piercing through him, and eight wounds from which the pain would only swell and increase over time, even if he was still conscious, one flicker of movement and he would feel the pain of being burned in the center of a volcano, times ten.

“Pfft… Hehehe… HAHAHAHA!”

It was HILARIOUS! Genichirou couldn’t help but burst out in sing-song laughter at the bastard’s stupidity. Genichirou hated losing, but he had to admit that Ariyama was a formidable foe, and even an intelligent one. But now it was obvious he was truly just an incompetent fool.

What an absolute idiot–

He moved.

Genichirou’s blood froze in his face, the color washing out of his face and he noticed it and stared, slack-jawed.

What?

No, he was definitely seeing things, because it was absolutely impossible that it could be for real–

He moved again. His lip twitched, and he raised his head ever so slightly.

Genichirou instinctively backed up. He was seeing things. He had to have been…

But then Ariyama gritted his teeth and fully looked up. His gaze was hidden in the shadow cast by his fringe, but Genichirou knew in his soul that Ariyama was looking directly at him.

The boy let out a low groan.

Then reached up with the hand not still gripping his sword, and tore the knife out of his belly.

Genichirou couldn’t breathe. Dammit, why was he so scared now? Impossible. It was because this was an impossible feat. How was Ariyama – someone who Genichirou was told only discovered his Enchanted Tool about a month and a half ago – able to withstand the excruciating pain from Genichirou’s Thornblade Vorpalé?

When Genichirou was younger, and curious, he had cut himself on the arm with his knife, just to test the lengths of the pain spread. Within minutes, it had felt like his whole arm had been submerged in a lake of boiling water. Just imagining what kind of devilish pain the boy was going through almost made Ariyama throw up on the spot.

What kind of monster was this Ariyama Saato?

Genichirou was smart. He was a genius. So, how had he been so blind as to Ariyama’s true capabilities this whole time?

Genichirou’s whole body shuddered as Ariyama reached for the knives impaling his arms, and ripped them free, one by one. He was gritting his teeth, sweating profusely, tears streaming down his face. He was definitely not immune to the pain. He was feeling it. Every movement he made was sending waves of redhot pain coursing through him.

His whole body was drenched in red. The girl laying just behind him was crying too, but out of pure terror. Her hands were clasped over her mouth in horror. Genichirou had lost recollection of her name, but he knew she was headstrong. And yet, she seemed prepared to faint, like an old woman.

Ariyama had just the knives through his legs left, and he bent down slightly to grasp them and pull them free. And just like that, he was left without a single one sticking through him.

What kind of…

What kind of idiot was he?

Genichirou knew that the brat knew that once you remove a knife from a stab wound, the blood loss would increase dramatically. Sure, it gave him more maneuverability, but he was simultaneously signing his own death warrant.

Genichirou felt more relaxed now, all of a sudden. He was grinning again. He would watch in glee as Ariyama took one, maybe two, steps before he collapsed. He was pouring blood from all those wounds already, so perhaps he wouldn't even make it one step.

But for some reason, apart from the blood dripping off his clothes, Genichirou couldn’t see any flowing blood on Ariyama.

Wait. There was maybe a chance. So, that was it all along? The bastard had–

Ariyama moved like a ravenous beast, raising his sword and diving at Genichirou.

Damn, he was actually kinda fast for a kid–

“AAAHHH!!”

Ariyama appeared beside Genichirou and brought his rusted sword up in a sharp arc, severing his hand from his wrist. Genichirou clutched at his stump as it poured steaming blood. He screamed. He screamed, and screamed and screamed some more. He walked backwards, trying to make distance between him and the demon that was Ariyama Saato.

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But Ariyama didn’t follow.

Genichirou stopped, raising a crazed brow in confusion. Just then, Ariyama wiped his fringe out of his face and gave Genichirou a manic grin.

“Run.”

Genichirou’s legs were moving him towards the hole in the ground before the panic even crushed his heart. Why? Why, why, why, why?

What was making him so damn scared?

What was in Ariyama?

No, it wasn’t something that was in him.

That demon was Ariyama himself.

Genichirou knew what that little bastard had witnessed. He wasn’t sympathetic, but he did recognise the brutality of what he’d gone through. Had that been what made him snap like this? What made him have all his anger built up within him to be used to be able to snap in the first place?

Genichirou had tears of fear rolling down his face as his mind caught up with his limbs, and he leapt into the hole in the ground. For a moment, he was weightless, before hitting the first floor below, twisting his ankle.

The sharp pain in his foot didn’t come close to the searing pain he felt in his quickly-numbing stump that used to be his left hand.

That brat had told him to run, and goddamn him, he did just that.

Genichirou limped through the corridors, clutching his healed stump where his left hand used to be. He was one of the rare few Tributes with an innate Allay Technique, allowing him to manipulate his mana into having a healing property. Nothing insane enough to regrow a limb – that was something that was considered impossible – but just enough so he wouldn’t bleed out.

But even though he was healed now, he was still terrified.

He was terrified of the kid demon, the spawn of the devil, Ariyama Saato.

What the shit had Viktor thought when sending him out to a school that not only had that Matsune bitch, but also this monster?

Ah, screw it. Genichirou was sure he’d explain everything once Genichirou got back. Hell, maybe Viktor was waiting to help him, or one of the others were.

If that was the case, Genichirou just had to find Viktor. Or Ishiguro. Or even I–

He turned a corner and his heart nearly stopped as Ariyama, head bowed again and his whole form drenched in blood, stepped into the same corridor and met his gaze. The kid’s ebony eyes were wild but also devoid of emotion. He looked equally crazed, and emotionless. He must have gone insane resisting the pain of Thornblade Vorpalé.

Genichirou growled in defiance.

“So, what? Now that you’re suddenly able to show off with all these surprising little tricks, means you're able to stop me? Hell no. I’m Genichirou goddamned Shoei, and I refuse to be bullied by an insignificant, little bug–”

Ariyama spoke. It was soft and quiet, but Genichirou still heard every word.

“Hey, Idolseus, change of plans. I need a little boost, just to bury this guy for good.”

His disrespectful words sent spears of fiery anger through Genichirou’s mind. He bent his knees and sprinted down the hallway, using his leftover mana to bound three meters with each stride.

This was it.

He was going to kill this brat before he even could raise that damned sword an inch higher.

Then he’d be in Viktor’s favor, and then he could finally–

Ariyama erupted in a haze of white hot heat, igniting the ground he stood on. For a moment, his eyes were like exploding suns, his black hair flowing bright white. That presence wasn’t Ariyama. No, it was…

Genichirou’s thoughts were cut off as the white-haired figure swung a blade of glowing heat and sent a stream of light carving through the hallway, enveloping Genichirou entirely.

Oh.

So, was this what dying felt like?

Genichirou smiled sadly as the white heat scorched his skin and tore his clothes.

“I’m sorry, sis–”

Ariyama considered it a death by his own hands, even if he had to ask Idolseus to power it once more. The pain he had felt when taking the knives out – the pain that was so egregious he would have preferred being skinned alive and dumped in salt – was now long gone. He was quite desensitized, so he wasn’t sure if that was thanks to Idolseus or something else. It didn’t matter, though.

“I need a boost,” is what he had said.

Idolseus had replied with, If so, you must know your sword’s true name. It’s been long enough. For you to tap into the sword’s power without my interference, you must know it.

“OK, and that name is…?”

Jallarbor Godrend

Ariyama didn’t know what it meant, but when he said it – not really ‘said’, but more ‘though’ – he was no longer the controller of his body. Heat sprang off him like he was a nuclear reactor. Then he swung the sword, Jallarbor Godrend, at the quickly-approaching Genichirou Shoei, which instantly swept the blonde bastard away. The white hot blaze shot out in an ear-piercing blast, like it had back in the Shrine. It blew through the corridor and erupted the walls and caused that whole corner of the school to be blown away.

Ariyama felt a wave of crazed ecstasy as the sword was swung. He felt amazing in that moment, even if he shouldn’t have.

But then, as the control went back to him, he just stood there as debris and dust blasted at him. He felt weightless, even as his feet touched the ground. He was so senseless that he could’ve easily stayed in that same spot for the rest of his life. It was so, so cozy…

Something snapped him out of his reverie, and he took in a deep breath, as if bringing life back into his lungs. His shoulders slumped and he spent a good five minutes just getting his breathing and awareness back. Once he was sure he wasn’t gonna trip over his own feet, he strode through the rubble-littered floor, heading back to Kazura.

Crap, what was he gonna tell Matsune?

There was a huge hole in the back right corner of the school, courtesy of him. Genichirou was the culprit, but was now an ashen stain on the ground, and finally, Kazura was now exposed to the secret world, just like he had been two months prior.

Ariyama wouldn’t be surprised if he was jailed for all the destruction and chaos he’d caused.

And, crap, didn’t Matsune say at the very start that they were gonna take the culprit alive? Just another thing Ariyama had messed up on. But he was sure they preferred a dead unregistered Tribute to an unregistered Tribute continuing to be let loose.

As Ariyama began sprinting up the stairs, another thought crossed his mind.

Genichirou was dead. He had killed him. Ariyama had killed another human being. Not some mythical Shrine guardian monster, but an actual person with feelings and emotions.

It was probably the rushing adrenaline and his spinning mind that refused him time to properly realize what he’d done. But if he had to, he’d do it again. Probably.

It was either Genichirou died, or Kazura died. And Ariyama would choose Kazura a thousand times over.

Finally, he reached the corridor outside Ijichi’s classroom. There was a big hole still covering almost the whole middle of the corridor. On the opposite side, Kazura continued to lay down. She must have fallen into unconsciousness again. Ariyama didn’t blame her. He was sure to follow close behind. He passed over the thin strip of floor still left by the wall, then grabbed Kazura and lifted her into his arms and carried her away.

By the time he reached the main gate, his arms were burning. Kazura was light, but Ariyama’s fatigue was making him weaker by the second.

He used Jallarbor Godrend to cut open the lock to the gate, and slipped past it with Kazura still in his arms. They were outside now. They were safe.

He rested Kazura down against the wall, and then sat next to her. His mind was still racing with questions and emotions, but he knew what he needed to do first. With hands that shook from the adrenaline that was slowly wearing off now, Ariyama pulled his cracked phone from his pocket. Luckily, it still functioned. He called Matsune’s number, and quickly explained everything to her.

She was quiet for most of his spiel, and ended the call by telling him to stay put, and that she was too occupied to go out herself. So, she was sending another agent of the Pilgrims’ Society to collect Ariyama and Kazura both.

Oh, thank God.

Ariyama cried – he actually cried – once the phone call ended. He had never had such a taxing night of his life. That night in the Shrine was a different story entirely, so he didn’t want to count that at all. So, apart from that, this night was possibly the worst of his life.

Looking to his right, he gazed tiredly at Kazura, then rested his hand on hers.

It was all over, and his best friend was safe. He was content.

As his vision blurred and he began to lose consciousness, Ariyama turned his head and peer between the bars of the school gate. He noticed a figure in a black cloak and hood, a silver wreath-looking symbol on the clasp that connected the hood and cape.

Oh, so was that the Pilgrims’ Society guy Matsune had sent? He sure go there early–

Ariyama hadn’t one more thought, as his consciousness finally slipped from him, and he fell into a deep, well-deserved sleep.