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ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO TAPPEI NAGATSUKI, THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR OF RE:ZERO STARTING A LIFE IN A DIFFERENT WORLD FROM ZERO, THIS IS A TRANSLATION OF THE FREE JAPANESE WEB NOVEL INTO ENGLISH
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???: “— Gorgeous Tiger?”
Garfiel’s consciousness was shaken harshly the moment he heard that sound.
He coughed out the volumes of water he’d swallowed, shook all the moisture away from his body, sight beginning to return to his brain drowsy from oxygen starvation.
This place was an underground space both dim and frigid.
The rigid stone ground was still submerged by volumes of water flowing in. It seemed that the turbid flow had flooded the room from an indentation in the wall behind him, which had allowed a breath of fresh air.
He was currently showered by a great number of gazes. In them lay unease, vigilance, dread, opposition.
From the number of people before him and the myriad of feelings in their gazes, Garfiel blearily came to the conclusion that this was one the the city’s shelters.
The waterway he had plummeted into connected to the shelter, crashing through the wall led to this place. As a result, he’d been swept in along with the water.
At that realization, Garfiel’s blurred consciousness received a shock.
Jerking his head up with a start, remembering the events that had transpired before he’d been sweat him erected the hairs on his body. He hurriedly spun his head around, rapidly searching for the giant who had plummeted into the water with him in a tangle —
Garfiel: “… ah”
His gaze overlapping with a young blond boy’s green eyes.
He remembered this face. This face made his chest tighten, followed by memories which agonized his spirit.
He’d come face to face with him again, that boy who had a connection with Garfiel’s mother.
He was a little brother, remaining where he’d wanted to be, accepting the love of a mother—
The sense of being startled away was once again buried under an excess of feeling.
And then, an enormous splash swept the water surrounding Garfiel, the form of a giant who’d a splash flying standing up in the shallow water. This enormous figure waved his arms, mercilessly slamming toward the blankly staring Garfiel.
Facing this attack, Garfiel’s reaction was a beat too late.
And this beat, proved fatal.
The momentary carelessly offered the opponent a flaw.
And from the war god facing Garfiel came not an off-color attack.
In total, eight attacks swept toward Garfiel.
One or two were blocked. However, the remaining six slammed straight into Garfiel.
The face was hit and two attacks squirmed the body. Then the floating body was beaten to the ground by the fist, hitting the head of the water and eating the fist from the top.
Taking a blow to the face, two attacks to the side leaving his body in midair. And then his floating body was slammed to smack into the ground, his head which slammed into the water taking another hit from directly overhead. His face slamming through the water into the hard ground, his nose and teeth taking serious damage as well. The surface of the water stained with crimson, a string of blood flowed from Garfiel’s mouth and nose as he leapt to his feet.
Garfiel: “Stop, kidding… arouuuuuund!”
A roar coming from the mouth which had teeth knocked loose, shaking away the ringing in his ears from blows to the head. A momentum of anger sweeping through this underground space, the war god positioned directly forward stepped forth as if this were the reason.
Fists overlapping. Garfiel turned his head, using his teeth to scratch at the fist which scraped his head, tearing it from wrist to elbow in one motion. his head and used his teeth to smear his fist across his face and tear it from his wrist to his elbow. Extending his right arm to grab his opponent’s neck in the same instant, digging all the way to the lower abdomen.
Fresh blood sprayed from the sharp incision, causing no small amount of damage to the war god’s body.
However, the war god’s seven remaining hands continued to strike. In order to avoid them all, Garfiel needed to do his utmost to respond.
In one exchange of blows, he needed to use one hand to deal with eight.
Overwhelming disadvantages, overwhelming differences in ability, overwhelming differences in battle – this in fact ignited his will to fight.
Garfiel: “Aaaa, aaaaaaaaaaaa!!”
Attack, attack, attack, attack, attack, attack, attack —
Block, deflect, avoid, evade, duck, kick aside, meet head on —!
Fist to fist, generating shock waves that caused evaporated the sweat dripping from the two.
Unyielding and steel facing off in collision, the staggering sound made it difficult to believe that this was flesh on flesh. The pair’s bodies were unable to withstand this and flew outward in opposite directions.
Ferocious tiger and the enormous body were both tossed aside to caush giant splashes.
Kurgan’s back collided with the wall, and Garfiel once again became intimately acquainted with the water. He immediately raised his head, his gaze overlapping with Kugan’s who was looking directly toward him.
Although without a single word spoken, mutual understanding was established in but a moment.
Garfiel stood, stepping into the water that now reached his ankles.
Garfiel could feel the [Divine Protection of Earth Spirits] beneath the soles of his feet, cutting a quadrilateral from the floor beneath his feet, allowing it to float upward. Kicking aside this floating piece of floor, the huge holes caused much of the water in the underground to flow into it all at once, drastically reducing the water level.
As Garfiel conducted the draining of the water, Kurgan approached the hole where the water flowed in.
The holes that had sent the two underground was enormous, vast amounts of water pouring from within. Left alone, the underground space would flood in a matter of minutes.
Kurgan yanked out a Demon Cleaver. Minus the one Garfiel had bitten to pieces, there yet remained three Demon Cleavers. Kurgan removed one to aim above, his target hanging directly overhead of hole – he hefted the exaggerated piece of iron at the ceiling, shattering it.
Using the vision of a warrior to see through the collapse, with roughness he filled the hole in the wall in with rubble. Of course, even blocked water would still leak in, but not the the extent of instantaneously submerging the underground
The hole was plugged, the water was drained, water would no longer flood submerge ankles.
Checking the status of their surroundings wordlessly, the two warriors returned to their original positions. Face to face. Fists lifted with shields, Demon Cleavers drawn. The hero [Eight Arm] Kurgan, the challenger [Golden Tiger] Garfiel.
Subduing an opponent at peak condition. This was the implicit agreement between warriors.
Garfiel knew that this was not the time for such a thing.
His duty was to return to the high rise City Hall that was likely under attack, to rescue those who could not fight.
However, before any matter of facing or not facing, about what to face, Garfiel had long ago already faced this problem.
— This sentiment was out of place, but Garfiel felt excited.
His pitiful loss against Reinhardt, sealing memories and feelings both for a mother, unable to avenge the kind girl who had protected him, leaving an ally in a dangerous situation when faced with an ambush.
So many important things snatched from his hands, leaving him to feel powerless and empty.
Leaving [Sanctuary], seeing the world, Garfiel had recognized his own weakness.
The him that had remained in [Sanctuary], would certainly have remained strong, for certain. Because then his metric of comparison was only himself, holding no doubts to the martial abilities he’d trained.
Leaving [Sanctuary], seeing the world, Garfiel had recognized far greater strengths.
Compared his time in [Sanctuary], his own power had not decreased. However, the his metric of comparison was no longer the him of his imagination, making him weak in relativity.
In a mere two days, a shift in consciousness made him clearly recognize this conclusion.
Powerlessness and loss had exposed Garfiel’s inner self, forcing him to recognize he was merely a bluffing brat. His inner self had created hesitation, doubt, regret, the wavering of his heart turning him weak.
— And injected life into his wilted soul was precisely Kurgan.
The hero [Eight Arm] Kurgan, the Empire of Vollachia’s hero. The strongest man of the Multi-Arm Tribe.
He’d readied his Demon Cleavers, regarding Garfiel as a warrior to face. How important this was to the Garfiel who could not find his own value.
The two entangled men plummeted into the waterway, where Garfiel had lost his footing due to his inexperience in aquatic combat. The magically resurrected Kugan had no need to breathe, and if he had wanted to decide the outcome could have merely waited for Garfiel to drown.
However, the war god had shattered the wall of the waterway, connected to a shelter, had let Garfiel survive.
For what purpose.
Garfiel: “Thought initially… that ‘t was yer show ‘f mercy.”
Before Garfiel had determined his epiphany, Kurgan had not regarded him as a warrior.
Flinging aside an attacking child, kicking aside a crybaby was not what a warrior would do. And thus facing Garfiel who had been throwing a tantrum, Kurgan had completely sidestepped him.
But, that was wrong.
Precisely because he’d stood, raised his shields, being regarded as a war god by Garfiel.
That was why he’d seen the famed Demon Cleavers being drawn, had met with the stance of greeting a warrior.
After seeing this demeanor from him, what he had shown to Garfiel was certainly no mere mercy or pity.
What Kurgan sought. Was the result of a decisive battle for victory against Garfiel.
— The battle between warrior and warrior can only accept a mutual blow as a conclusion.
Garfiel: “Yo, ya fuckers… how long ‘re ya goin’ t’ keep starin’?”
Garfiel checked the shields on his two arms, these words directed not toward Kurgan, but meant for the onlooking audience.
The ones who after the two men had been swept in, had silently regarded the battle between warriors — the refugees.
Gathered together though differing in clothing, and, and even race, all they had in common was their in ability to fight, they were a group of of non-combatants who would be sent flying with a single attack.
If Garfiel fell here, there was no one here who could deal effective damage to Kurgan. Although difficult to imagine Kurgan committing atrocities against non-combatants, but likely the only one who knew this was the Garfiel facing him.
Garfiel: “Should be able t’ tell ‘t a glance. Even ‘f you spectate from over there, ‘s absolutely nowhere that y’ c’n make a move. Hurry n’ take th’ chance to seek shelter outside…”
Fred: “—Gorgeous Tiger—!”
Garfiel’s words urged them to leave quickly were overwhelmed by a loud cry.
Calling out to the Garfield whose brows were knitted in pressure, using this phrase to call out to Garfiel happened to be one of those onlookers.
The boy’s eyes filled with tears, both cheeks crimson, gripping the hem of his clothing tighty.
Faced with Garfiel’s astonished sight, the boy’s watery eyes stared back. It held a will strong enough that Garfiel found it difficult to reply.
Garfiel: “Hey, lil’ brat… th’ hell ‘re ya, sayin’…”
Fred: “Gorgeous Tiger—!”
Fred: “G, gorgeous·tiger—!”
The quavering voice of the boy called so to the silent Garfiel.
As if unaware of how else to express his feelings, calling out this name.
This was the name of the golden tiger. This was the name that Garfiel Tinzel yearned for, the name of the strongest tiger.
Why now, was he calling this name. What did he want to convey.
Tears dripped down the reddened cheeks of the boy.
Spreading through the entire underground audience were the cries of the boy. So everyone shared this share of passion that was injected despite being inexpressible.
Garfiel: “Enough, y’ve said ‘t already now go.”
Garfiel’s sigh, was buried under their cries of calling for the golden tiger.
From behind the boy, a girl with the same blond hair embraced him. That was the boy’s sister. As if to protect her younger brother, her gaze trembled as it found Garfiel.
Her lips also trembled without pause. In a voice without sound of silence, calling the name of the tiger of gold.
“Win for sure!”
Not from the boy, not from the girl, of course not from Garfiel.
Another man in the underground space, called out while raising a fist.
Garfiel: “Wait, told y’ to run…”
“Fight, and then win!”
“E, even if we can only… watch on!”
Garfiel was speechless.
The voice he used to urge them to flee was repeatedly buried under other voices.
Directing his attention back, the enthusiasm in the boy’s voice reached the hearts of everyone underground, not a single person watching Garfiel and Kurgan’s duel making a move to flee.
If using common sense, if calming down to think, how could anyone think staying was right. Everyone, was overwhelmed. Solely for the sake of this meaningless determination and faith, reaching a conclusion that was likely to end in self sacrifice.
The hell does this count for, was what Garfiel thought.
What was the point of staying here. What was making noise, showing support supposed to mean.
It would be much better to hurry to and run. He himself wouldn’t have to worry about involving them. The likelihood that they’d be sacrificed even if he himself fell would reduce. This was much more reasonable.
But not a one of them fled, why was this.
Garfiel: “Cap’n… sure ‘nough, your speech delivered effects too strong…”
From his mouth Garfiel called out his name for Subaru, remembering the words he’d conveyed to the entire city.
Subaru had touched the hearts of everyone in the city, the powerful broadcast that had been proclaimed as weak pulling together all the people that felt submerged by unease and horror. A flickering candlelight had been lit with the last bit of hope.
And fire burned out to leave heat in the peoples’ hearts, waiting for the next change to reignite.
And for them, the moment of ignition, was now.
And the same went for Garfiel in this moment.
The solidarity, did not stop.
The first to call out to the golden tiger was Garfiel’s little brother whose birth he had been unaware of. And in order to protect her littlest brother, was the little sister whose birth had been equally unknown to Garfiel.
Little brother, and little sister, were looking directly at Garfiel.
The city that had accepted his mother after she had lost her memory, its residents were looking right at Garfiel.
Garfiel: “F’r a duel between warriors… compared t’ th’ usual, ‘s a bit too noisy.”
Garfiel: “Really, sorry. Been troubling you all along. Especially most troublesome’re my amazin’ self’s lil’ brother n’ sister. After this, they’ll get a proper scoldin’.”
Garfiel: “‘N so.”
Wordlessly the war god readied his fighting spirit.
Needless to say, his attitude was one of utmost power.
Garfiel clenched his fists, knocking the shields on hims arms together.
The sound of the steel striking steel lit a spark, through his fangs Garfiel took a deep breath.
Garfiel: “[Shield of Sanctuary]… no,”
Garfiel: “[Gorgeous Tiger], Garfiel Tinzel.”
The announcement of a name that was meant to initiate a battle.
To Garfiel’s announcement of a name, Kurgan remained silent. Merely scraped his Demon Cleavers, showing his opponent the utmost of will to battle.
This was, enough.
Garfiel: “Haaa, aaaaaaaah!”
Garfiel kicked against the stone floor, rushing forward.
Kurgan greeted him with the same, the distance between the two reducing to zero in a mere instant.
To say hit would be too sharp, to say slash would be blunt, the attacks that Garfiel made without pause leaving little room to breathe.
The air that Demon Cleavers touched was not whistled through or sliced so much as it was killed, every blade only being caught by Garfiel due to his warriors’ instinct for danger.
In one exchange of blows he needed to content with eight hands, and those eight hands only needed to contend with one.
With the number of Garfiel and Kurgan’s hands differing, to win against him was to Garfiel as difficult as scaling the sky/reaching the heavens.
However, without acting he could not reach it. And so he initiated this battle, gambling his all.
Faced with heavy blows which made his body their target, if hit directly even a blunt blow would be enough to sever his blood and flesh. Without the slightest of hesitation Garfiel lifted his foot, shattering a Demon Cleaver speeding toward him with a single step.
From directly overhead the heel broke the body of the Demon Cleaver, the thick body of the blade piercing through the stone floor, the roar of the splitting rocking creating an illusion that the entire city was trembling.
He’d first dealt with one, but couldn’t let his guard down.
At the same time that the broken Demon Cleaver had pierced the floor, the second one cut an arc through the air from the direction of his opponent’s left shoulder. Upon hearing the whistle of the Demon Cleaver with his right ear, Garfiel immediately defended his head with the shields strapped on his arms. The attack hit exactly in the instant he raised his arms, shaking his attention for an instant.
The impact from his right fractured his elbow, the wrist of upper arm shattering completely. Garfiel gritted his teeth, to the extent that his teeth dripped blood. That was the second hand.
The third fourth hand were empty, striking in the same instant.
The clenched fists of Kurgan with his giant form, were no smaller than the size of a child’s skull. Explosive power paired with explosive size, the power of a blow could be said to equate that of a warship’s.
Not to mention that one first felt capable of piercing iron plate, approached Garfiel whose mind had blanked after the impact to his head. One toward his body and one toward his head, either with a direct hit was capable of exploding a human.
The blow concentrated on Garfiel’s body burned as it scraped across his abdomen.
The fist seared as if scorched in flame, with unnatural power.
Twisting across his body, this fist only scraped away the skin on the surface of his abdomen. The third hand.
A feeling as if having half his body plaguing his consciousness, with his right hand Garfiel blocked the punch headed toward his face. The already broken and shattered right arm, completely burst open under this tremendous force.
Elbow to wrist to tips of fingers, this hand no longer looked like a hand. The shield affixed to the wrist was sent flying as well. But losing a hand was hardly a fatal wound. Garfiel arched his body to meet the first with his forehead. Smashing Kurgan’s fist with his headbutt, he avoided the blow from the fourth hand.
Remaining were the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. Still distant. Too distant. Distant enough to make one laugh. To make one shiver to their teeth.
The fifth, the sixth hands were empty as well. One Demon Cleaver yet remained, and a fatal wound had not yet been made.
Both these hands were left hands, each protruding from under the shoulder and side of the body attacking at the same time. The right hand that he’d blocked with was now useless. His left hand couldn’t make it in time. Garfiel unhesitatingly stuck his right foot forward.
Soles of his shoes drawing a splash, at the same time conveying his will to the earth.
On occasion the earth lent him strength, on occasion aligned with his whims, and this time too offered him its own power.
From a tilt under his feet, Kurgan’s lower body lost its balance.
Even so, without pause the war god righted himself. His movements were without a trace of hesitation. However, in his unwavering attention there appeared a break.
In the instant that Kurgan’s attention had shifted below to his feet, seizing this break Garfiel rushed forward.
Lifting his foot, with a twist of his body, shoving his head between the two approaching fists. As if in the eye of a storm, the two fists both swept behind his body.
The instant his feet were in place, Garfiel felt a shudder for his own judgements.
He himself unsure of why he would have made that judgment, a thought and a decision accomplished in a fraction of a measure of time. Brain scorching. Heart scorching. Life on the verge of bursting.
The fifth and sixth hands were thus dealt with. Afterward, the seventh and the eighth hands —.
Suddenly, Garfiel’s hair stood on end at a chill.
Kurgan whose six hands had been dodged would want to use the remaining two to finish Garfiel. — A fatal blow approached.
— Skipping over the seventh hand, the eighth and last hand attacked.
He stopped an attack with one hand, using it to wield the Demon Cleaver.
Right hand holding the pommel of the Demon Cleaver, right shoulder’s hand tightly gripping the body of the Demon Cleaver. A blow that surpassed powerful was about to welcome Garfiel from the ground.
Surrounded on all sides, such overwhelming presence that one would believe that they would die no matter they tried to hide.
This was a sight that made the wretched attacks of the previous six hands seem almost a waste.
Avoiding was unimaginable.
Backing away, leaping aside, or rushing forward, would all result in a direct hit.
An image of being turned into a slab of meat as the result of this attack appeared before his eyes.
Escape was impossible. Attacking would be even more reckless. — There was only one option, and so.
Garfiel placed his unbroken left hand on his head, dropping his waist.
In this moment, there was a voice that still remained audible. The sound of little brother and little sister, and a large crowd of people cheering.
Estimating was only in a moment, moving was only in an instant, the result was right there.
The instant when the Demon Cleaver moved, Garfiel had entirely left this world.
All encompassing silence, all encompassing formlessness. Extraneous surroundings vanished in an instant. In the attention of Garfiel whose focus was sharpened to its absolute limit, remained only Kurgan.
With abnormal sluggishness, with the Demon Cleaver he slashed downward at Garfiel.
Garfiel raised his head, the movements he met the attack with equally slow. In a world so stagnant as to induce anxiousness, all Garfiel could do was tightly clench his teeth.
Wrong, there was still time to revolve around.
He saw Subaru. Saw Ram. Saw Mimi. Saw Frederica. Remembered Lewes, and Emilia, Otto appeared too, thought of that bastard Roswaal, saw Beatrice and Petra and everyone in [Sanctuary], and then his mother Reshia and his little brother and little sister.
The battle that had happened at [Sanctuary], had allowed Garfiel to realize his own weakness.
Realizing the breadth of the world, when he’d lost to Reinhardt, Garfiel had adopted the wrong impression that he was weaker than he’d been before leaving Sanctuary.
— That was impossible.
If embracing more meant more weakness, then for what did people live on.
Being strong enough to protect everything you embraced was enough.
Garfiel: “Ah — feel refreshed.”
Suddenly, the irritation plaguing his heart fell away.
That instant, the Demon Cleaver struck the shield on his left arm, sending a jolt which felt like lightning throughout his entire body.
The defense mounted by his left arm, was in an instant cut through by the Demon Cleaver.
Just like his right arm, wrist, elbow, bicep, even shoulder were all twisted beyond repair.
Feeling the familiar pain of a shattered arm as if in a nightmare, agony dyed his vision red, thoughts sinking into complete blankness. Garfiel opened his mouth to form a howl.
The fangs that had been clenched all along loosened, beginning a chorus of despair for each accumulated wound.
The Demon Cleaver’s assault did not end.
After shattering his left hand, the momentum that remained slashed at Garfiel’s head. Such power would be enough to shatter Garfiel’s small body, leaving him nothing but minced meat.
Just how did the war god regard this young warrior who keened agonized wails as if dying.
In his heart was compassion, or pity — was neither.
Unless one side stopped drawing breath, the principle of a warrior pitying a warrior existed not.
Garfiel howled from agony as he lowered his head. The sound of that heartrending sound persisted for a long time, and then.
Garfiel: “—aaaa, gah.”
The howl stopped, Garfiel clenched his jaw. On the teeth that he clenched down on again, shone a radiance of silver.
That was the silver shield that had fallen from his ruined right arm, which Garfiel had caught in his teeth.
Garfiel: “Gaaaaah, aaaaaaah—!”
Whipping his head around, biting the shield Garfiel had met the Demon Cleaver slashing toward his face, biting the shield had mounted his second defense, slamming it into the side of his face the instant the attack had reached. Blood sprayed from Garfiel’s nose, his teeth sent flying, but, his knees did not kneel.
He supported the weight of the Demon Cleaver with biting strength and the strong neck.
The spark of the collision between steel and steel — created a flame, causing Garfiel’s consciousness to flicker.
Even though the whites of his eyes had begun to show, just what kind of willpower was still even now supporting his neck.
Was it fighting instinct, or rather a beast’s vitality and survival.
Suddenly, blood spurted out. Vast volumes of blood poured forth, crimson flowers of blood pooling in this underground space.
It sprayed from Kurgan’s right hand, that last right hand that clutched the Demon Cleaver.
On it was a wound persisting from the last time he’d attacked Garfiel, deep enough that bone was visible from hand to upper arm. From this blow just now the wound had completely split open.
Kurgan’s face bore no shock. Nor did his expression change due to the pain.
That was a matter of course. He was a corpse. Pain existed for the sake of urging people to live, to ensure that the candlelight of life still existed beyond the minimum limit — the deceased did not need such a tool.
And thus, Kurgan had ignored the effect of the injury on his right arm.
If truly wishing to perform the most perfect attack, the last blow should have been given up to his still functioning left hand.
Success or failure determined here at once — was not the right place to say.
Withstanding attacks from eight hands, Garfiel heaved a sigh with a bloodied face.
The shield clenched between his teeth clattered to the ground. Kurgan’s front was wide open. Yet Garfiel’s left and right were completely useless, muscle in both legs torn from insufficiently withstanding heavy blows. Even so, he could still leap one step.
After leaping over, what to do. Hands, could not be made use of. Then remaining was—.
Garfiel let out a cry, opened his bleeding mouth wide, rushed toward Kurgan.
Garfiel’s teeth sank into the neck of the stationary war god. Teeth piercing through tight muscles with easy, severing at the base those organs so vital to life.
Biting down like this Garfiel twisted his body, teeth shredding through muscle and sinew, tearing away a large chunk of neck, crunching with force.
Garfiel: “Hah, ah.”
Utterly defenselessly Garfiel collapsed on the ground, spitting out shredded flesh. He turned his head as he vomited, watching Kurgan’s figure as blood gushed from its neck.
Garfiel’s hands were gone, several teeth were missing, body remained stained in blood.
Having been mortally injured by the Garfiel covered in wounds, heroically Kurgan’s body remained yet standing with chest upright. This was a hero’s spirit, so moving as it was of the human heart.
Finally, Kurgan turned slowly, facing Garfiel.
Facing the warrior who lay on the ground gazing up at him, the war god crossed his arms over his chest with calmness.
Kurgan. “— Magnificent.”
In a baritone low and heavy, commended the victor.
Without, even allowing him time to reply.
Kurgan’s body collapsed right before Garfiel’s own two widened eyes.
Collapsing like sand was the figure so large one needed to crane their neck to see, alien face becoming stone and ash. Such an end inspired such grief, the deceased dying once more — this was the result.
This is ultimately the sadness of the people, the deceased once again changed back to the dead – this is the result.
Garfiel: “… What pleasant words.”
Watching the war god crumble to ash as he died, Garfiel sighed discontentedly.
Not that he wished for him to live on so unnaturally, but after a mutual duel to the death, a feeling of emptiness at the end was natural.
And so, this was merely a grief that Garfiel had nowhere else to express.
Garfiel: “Ah, damn it… fuck, screw it…”
The flow of blood was too much.
Laying on the ground, Garfiel used his entire body to channel the [Divine Protection of Earth Spirits], into turning his gathered mana into healing magic to repair his body. His hands especially, and his face was a disaster too.
Wounds that had yet to be healed aboveground, immediately followed by such a number of attacks. Being left with heavy injuries was not such a surprise.
???: “Gorgeous Tiger!”
Garfiel who had been putting his all into healing heard a sobbing cry.
Treading puddles to approach were the figures of little brother and little sister. Others approached as well, but in Garfiel’s eyes were only those two.
Both looked to be on the verge of tears — no, they were already crying.
It couldn’t be helped. Even as seen by others, Garfiel’s condition was disastrous. And to someone familiar with this sight that he remained alive was practically unimaginable. If looked at by a healing expert their faces would surely be a terrified white, determining that emergency treatment would be needed.
This also served as proof of just how many hellish trials he’d overcome.
Of course, although he wanted to feel proud of it —,
Garfiel: “Survived… but, couldn’t buy a bit ‘f time.”
Even having defeated [Eight Arm] Kurgan did not mean he’d succeeding in delaying.
This had been Garfiel’s battle, but it was not solely his battle. Right when he’d been dragged into battle, perhaps an ally had sunk into danger.
Needing to return to the city hall, Garfiel sat up.
Hearing his words and seeing his movements, the expressions of the little brother and little sister who had rushed over changed. Little sister especially wore a look of rage.
Sister: “Are, are you stupid!? Alright lie down already! Right away… yes, right away, right away I’ll go call a doctor over…”
Garfiel: “There’re other guys needin’ doctors. My amazin’ self’s got other things t’ do, kiddo.”
Garfiel nodded at the little sister whose face had turned bright red. But his face full of fresh blood perhaps didn’t look very convincing. Little sister ceaselessly wept anguished tears.
During this time, wretchedly broken bones in his arms reconnected. Although the flesh had yet to recover fully, running a few steps wouldn’t have him passing out. Garfiel stood after having reached this conclusion.
Sister: “Wai, wait a minute… Are, are you really going to go?”
Garfiel: “… Th’ broadcast, d’ya hear it too?”
Sister: “Eh… mm, mm.”
Garfiel with fingertips still dripping with blood, Garfiel’s words received a response.
The voice on the broadcast had given little brother and little sister courage, giving Garfiel his last shove here. And so, Garfiel needed to repay that voice on the broadcast.
He said it would be fine, Subaru said it would be fine, and so he had to make it so.
Garfiel: “‘N so, my amazin’ self—”
With a stagger his blood deprived body knelt to the ground. Little sister hurriedly supported the body that appeared as if it would fall any second, and Garfiel clicked his tongue.
And then, standing before Garfiel now was little brother.
Fred: “Gorgeous Tiger.”
Garfiel: “… What’s up, but sorry, ‘f you’ll say t’ stop ‘t won’t work.”
Fred: “That, that’s not it. Gorgeous Tiger, your clothes are glowing.”
Hearing little brother’s allegation, Garfiel looked down and finally noticed.
At the waist of his own ragged clothing, a piece of cloth gave a gentle glow.
Stowed there was the conversation mirror. Because it hadn’t been able to connect with the city hall, he’d shoved it there determining it was useless. Its shining right now meant,
Garfiel: “‘d thought, ‘t was broken!”
Sister: “I, I’ll pick up.”
Garfiel’s breath came quickly. Little sister reached toward his waist, pulled the conversation mirror out before she could be stopped. The surface of the mirror shined, which allegedly meant that another conversation mirror from elsewhere was calling here.
In other words, this was either the city hall, or the other group calling his side.
Sister: “What, what should I do…?”
Garfiel: “Bring ‘t here. — Who’s ‘t?”
Little sister carefully brought the mirror close to Garfiel. Garfiel looked at the mirror’s surface, called out.
The conversation mirror, slowly began to flash.