A Sword's Weight

Blood dripped into small pools, staining the concrete. Sweat mixed in the air with mana thickening the atmosphere. Tension mounted with sore muscles and exhausted bones. Pain throbbed like spikes through the chest, puncturing lungs. Every moment felt like hell. And they still stood.

They still fought.

Dai only continued to grin at the idea of fighting them both. It made Yori wonder why he was so eager. What drove him? What motivated him to come to the other side and ruin people’s lives? He felt more personal than many of the sorcerers he encountered. The perverse enjoyment he took from Yori churned his stomach.

Yori picked up his sword once more. He tore off his suit jacket and ripped what he could to wrap it around his hand, tying the sword to him. The pain raking his body disrupted his focus on molding mana. It was far weaker than what he was used to, but he would have to make do.

Despite her injuries looking as bad or maybe worse, Miho stepped forward with her arm glowing bright in mana. Much like Dai, he remembered that she was a military-grade sorcerer, though limited in a similar manner, lacking their truly destructive spells.

From behind her, a wave rose into the air, brushing against the tall ten-meter ceiling. Out of the very air, it formed and bent down over her in an arc, rushing forward like a stampede. Everything caught in it was rent asunder, smashed against walls or crushed under pressure. Yori had seen large spells, but for her to just casually pour so much water into a spell really gave him more respect for her as a sorcerer. ‘She really had been restraining herself up to this point. And she’s still got her limiter…damn…’

He only managed to avoid getting swept away thanks to being behind it all. Though he did catch sprays on his face in the crashing waves. But in the massive torrent, he had lost sight of Dai. He didn’t imagine that a single attack was enough, but it might have at least knocked him around a little.

It had no warning beyond the building’s energy. As the water began to settle and fade into mana, they found Dai against the wall, looking mostly soaked, but otherwise no less bothered. He dropped to his feet, pouring water from his clothes. Dai removed his jacket with grace and care, placing it on a still intact crate. “These are quite nicely fitted, and you’ve soaked them. Such a waste.”

Pushing his body past its limits, Yori blitzed forward, his skin glowing a faint red from his forceful application of mana. He only had one good arm and made sure to make it strong. The concrete cracked under his strength as he struck Dai. He tried to catch him while he was still talking. The man had enough insight to watch him and still managed to take the blow, though it did seem to make him push back.

From behind Yori, snakes came in, grasping to restrain. It was a weak spell, but it was enough of a distraction for Yori to use to press his advantage. He forced his way through his guard, finishing the swing down. The blade didn’t go as deep as he wanted. Yori could feel it was shallow, but blood still painted the ground with a gash across Dai’s torso.

Dai took a step back as the feat exhausted Yori. He touched the open wound Yori carved into his chest. “Impressive, even if you couldn’t do it alone.”

“I only have one goal; fairness or pride aren’t things I care about.” Yori flicked the blade, spraying blood over the floor.

“Yes. Your eye tells it all. I saw hints of it before. You are quite an interesting man.” Mana flowed into the man’s gloves, shining the threads brightly. “But I can’t be letting you think this is so simply over.” Pure mana essence built into the air. Ripples formed as blue-silver forms took shape in the form of a multitude of weapons around him.

Yori grit his teeth, having trouble believing that this wasn’t a high-grade spell or military-grade. It should have been impossible, but a dozen weapons formed. In a simple gesture of his gloved hand, they all flew at the two of them.

He managed to cut away two with his sword, shattering them, but others clipped him. And Miho was no better, not having enough time to summon a defense.

It wasn’t enough to stop them, but it staggered them. Yet another new spell came after. The air charged all around them; it felt like static. Yori didn’t like the fact that he could feel it already. From the air above, a web of interlinked lightning formed, coming down over them like a net.

Contact alone was enough to burn, but it pressed down to bind them. The fabric-bound sword slipped from his hands, burning. Yori’s body struggled to move as electricity sparked through his body. He fought to run mana through, trying to push out the spell’s energy.

With them trapped, Dai began to approach. They had the look of being ready to finish the fight. It seemed to have entertained him well enough. The spell normally couldn’t have been too strong, but their weakened condition made it more potent.

‘Just need one act… C’mon body, give me one last shot!’ Burning almost red again, he forced mana through his body painfully to reject the intrusion. It restored enough of his control for him to move to grab for his eye patch.

Dai noticed immediately, as Yori expected and appeared in front of him, thrusting out his sword. “No, you don’t get to spoil the fun again.”

However, Yori grabbed the sword blade with his injured hand as it pierced through his palm. He bit through the pain gripping down on it. “I just wanted you inside my reach!” Yori’s still good left hand almost looked on fire with mana charged through it, burning nerves and muscles as he struck out. His fist smashed into the man’s ribs, cracking them as the force knocked him free of his hold on the sword.

Ice spears flew in from Miho, pinning the man to the wall, immobilizing him. She coughed up a little blood for the effort. “And shut the hell up!”

With their combined effort, the lightning web disappeared. Miho struggled to get to her feet. Yori pulled the sword out of his hand and let it clatter to the ground. Burnt shreds of fabric hung from his hand. He dragged up his sword and staggered forward, staring unflinchingly at Dai.

He was within five meters of the man when a hand pulled on his sword hand. Yori looked back to see if Miho managed to follow him in her ruined state. She stared at him much like in the park. “This isn’t how ye work. Justice, remember?”

Yori snapped his arm free even as more blood dripped to the floor. “There’s no justice! No justice, but what I can deliver. Akasha doesn’t care if he’s here or lives. It just lets these vile people destroy innocent lives for money, and it just watches and does nothing. Nothing! What good is a system if it fails the innocent!”

“That may be true, but ye ain’t a killer. Not like this. This is a line ye don’t cross.”

He glared at her once again, standing on such empty principles. “Then maybe I should. Maybe things will finally change!”

“Ye don’t mean that, Yori. Ye have darkness in ye, but ye still just want to save the innocent. Can ye look them in the eyes while a murderer? Can ye?”

Yori moved and pulled up his sword to put an end to this man’s life. There were still thousands like him out there. He could never reach them all, but one would be enough. One would save plenty. It would save more like Ryota.

But he froze in his swing, seeing the boy and his wonder at Tokyo. His hand shook with images of him flashing through his mind. Everyone that he rescued and saved. Each act that he did for those harmed made the sword weigh heavier and heavier until it collapsed to his side. “Dammit…I hate this world… I hate it…”

Yori collapsed to his knees, completely exhausted.

It was over. Finally.