Chapter 27: The Jig is Up!

One Minute Earlier…

Irina was nestled comfortably on her bed. She was reading a book. This book contained the tales of many great heroes from mythology, human history, and beyond.

She was presently on a section dedicated to Beowulf. Engrossed with the tale, she excitedly flipped the pages, needing to advance further into the storyline. Once she had concluded with that segment, she let out a delighted sigh, and flopped over to her side.

Irina looked at the book that had landed just out of her reach. She stretched out an arm to grab it. There was the option to use magic to retrieve it, of course. But, she wouldn’t use it over something as trivial as this—

A sudden prickling on her skin.

It alerted her to the college she attended.

Sensing the presence of a Demon, she sprung out of the bed.

Irina paused, wondering what those other “things” were roaming about the college grounds for. In a flash, she was now saddled in her magical armor, set for battle.

But… Irina’s instincts were telling her that tonight…

Tonight would be a night to remember…

Then, she opened the glass panes the sealed off the balcony, before whooshing into the skies…

Irina leveled at her sword’s pointed tip at the unmasked Demon.

“We shall settle the score now.”

She noticed a minor slump in the stature of the Demon in the back after her declaration.

Irina ran in that Demon’s direction.

Clank!

She intercepted a slash from the masked Demon who’d interrupted her charge. Irina struck again, with large, mighty swings.

Clank! Shink! Clang!

They moved at impressive speeds, clawing and slashing at each other. But, from the marks present on their bodies, it was clear who should have the advantage.

She was a Stage IV. And the Demon, a Stage III.

Under normal circumstances, the gap in power—even by a single Stage—was greater than distance between the ground and the sky.

But this was a battle of skill. Their strikes were fundamental, and non-magical.

That was until…

“Mirage of Temptation,” the masked Demon coldly said.

A purple haze obscured Irina’s vision—

TINK! TINK! TINK!

Deadly thrusts of those razor sharp claws stuck from all around Irina, but she’d managed to block and evade them.

An increase in speed? Or is it reach?

Her warrior mind kicked in, and she tapped the tip of her sword lightly against the floor of glass.

The haze was blown away—

—the Demon along with it.

“Tch!” the Demon hissed. “She dispelled it that easily…?”

“I do not have time for you!”

Irina suddenly dashed past the masked Demon, toward the silent one in the back—the Demon King.

The Demon probably hadn’t even noticed Irina had done so, and remained stationary in shock.

As Irina got closer, she began to shout, “Tell me why you are dressed like—”

“Lord Kuro, watch out!!!”

Irina lost the speed she’d gathered.

The masked Demon clasped her hands over her mouth.

And the silent one in the back, stared blankly, before putting a hand to his head…

● ● ●

Lord… Kuro…?

Irina lowered her sword, taking a step back.

“What… What did you just call him…?!” she asked the masked Demon with a mix of urgency and disbelief.

Kuro, who was still behind False Face, sighed…

He’d noticed that Irina, since arriving, had never referred to him by name. Also, she showed a sign of unmistakable recognition only now that he was using False Face.

He hadn’t known when exactly he’d managed completely erase his aura, so he wasn’t sure at the time. But from the moment he sensed genuine hostility from her, he was convinced.

Maybe he was too hopeful, believing Yuka would catch on without him explicitly stating it.

Guess I was wrong…

“Irina… Hold on for—!”

“Deceiver…” Irina began to mutter something.

How could I have been so… So…? SO FOOLISH?!

She lifted her low hung head and glared at him furiously.

“DECIEVER!!!”

With an ear splitting scream, she flew at him.

Both of them exited the left block in a bright flash of gold, spearing into the dead of the night.

Yuka’s mask came undone, and she stared at the sky.

“I think I messed up… Big time…”

Twitch…

Yuka turned to the body of the creature she’d defeated earlier. Its wounds closed, and it slowly rose up. It was as if it was never downed in the first place.

“One… Strand…!”

Yuka was speechless.

This is bad…

“Die!!!” Irina’s sword arched toward Kuro, who blocked the strike to his side swiftly with Silent.

The force of the attack propelled him backwards, high above the neon lit city below.

As he hurtled over the colorful landscape, that now resembled swirling lights in his vision, Kuro thought, So the jig is up, huh?

He caught himself, stopping sharply mid-air. The end of his black shirt had momentarily spread out like devil-like wings made of shadow behind him.

Kuro’s eyes widened a pinch at the sight of what Irina did next.

“Pola, to my aid!” Irina steadied her blade aimed at Kuro—from her back, came a mass of whitish and yellowish flame, taking the shape of a mighty polar bear.

“Gwaor!!!”

Hmm… So she has a Familiar, too. She’s really pulling out all the stops. Let me respond in kind!

“Come to me, Mischief!”

“Squeak!”

The Familiars let out low guttural growls—

Each went for the other.

It was popular belief that the power of a Familiar would always be a step lower than its master. This was nothing but an assumption. Nevertheless, the direction of their battle made it a plausible one.

Mischief avoided the deadly swings of Pola’s fiery claws.

Swish! Swoosh!

The battle looked as it if it were a fever dream.

Zipping around Pola in circles, Mischief rocketed into her underbelly—

—Now positioned directly above Pola’s head, Mischief drove its body forcefully into it.

“GwoaaaaR…” Irina’s Familiar was clearly out of commission, as it started to wobble.

“Tsk… Heel, Pola,” ordered Irina. The fiery Familiar withdrew to her hand.

“Return, to me, Mischief.”

“Squeak?!”

No, you’ve done enough. Now, return, Kuro commanded his Familiar through thought and a glare.

Like a bullet, Mischief shot straight for Kuro’s chest, and disappeared in a plume of smoke.

“What a despicable way to call back a Familiar…”

He heard Irina mumble under her breath.

Kuro couldn’t wave off the feeling he’d hurt her really badly in some way…

● ● ●

Irina’s crystal blue eyes began to brim with magic. She raised her sword deliberately, gripping the hilt. She began her next onslaught.

Her blade struck Kuro’s noiselessly, and he was once again pushed a large distance backwards—sending him all the way to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building.

He landed delicately on a side of the building—Irina lunged at him with her blade’s tip aimed at his chest. They crossed swords as they stood horizontally along wall of the south tower.

She poured more power into her follow up attack, blasting Kuro across the skyline, and over to the Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower in less than a second.

Kuro grew concerned that their fight was happening so close to these iconic landmarks. He wouldn’t forgive himself if they ever got damaged.

So he hopped off the building, back into the clear night sky.

Irina pursued after him. “Do you think I would let you get away?!”

Her sword began to hum with even greater power, as she wildly slashed at him.

Kuro narrowly avoided her blade’s edge, until—

Snip!

Irina’s sword edge claimed a strand of his hair that drifted away to the ground.

“Are you mocking me…?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Lies!”

Irina drew in a deep breath—her arm muscles tensing.

She was about to utilize one of her ace moves.

The built up strength flowed through her arms, and she had struck Kuro—

One… Thousand… Times…

—in an instant!

She grinned decisively, announcing her spell’s name.

“Retaliation: One Thousand… Fold…?”

Kuro was holding up Silent. His False Face that looked expectant, twisted to one of confusion.

Irina let the hand holding her sword drop to her side. Her ace move—ineffective.

She was certain that her blade met his in those strikes, so, why had it not built up any more power?

“This is my sword, Umnozhatsíla,” she said, huffing lightly. “If I hit a target once, it stores up an equivalent magic power. If I strike it again, it becomes twice as much. I then release all that stored up power in one final attack…”

Kuro nodded at her sudden explanation.

“Is it not common courtesy to describe your weapon as well?”

Irina was not going to let her rage consume her blindly. She felt that if she had even the slightest clue of how the Demon King’s weapon worked, she’d be able to formulate a plan.

“Oh—Um… This is Silent. Really quiet—likes to cut stuff.”

Irina’s body trembled vigorously. “Even till now, you still mock me?! So be it, come at me, vile Demon King!”

Something snapped within Kuro at being called vile Demon King by Irina.

Fine, then. You want a "vile Demon King" so badly? You’ll get one.

Kuro lifted his right hand skyward, and the previously clear night sky was blotted out by dark clouds.

His sinister sword began to radiate an overwhelming pressure.

False Face shattered, revealing his real one.

He cast his void-like eyes down on her, and he clicked his tongue.

When was the last time he’d gotten so riled up…?

As Kuro was about to deliver his blow, he remembered something his father, Marcus, always used to tell him.

“Listen, Kuro. If you are ever about to finish off an opponent, dropping a line or two would help amplify your victory. Exert your dominance on the battlefield…”

He clicked his tongue again as he began, “I deeply commend you for pushing me this far, Irina Belova, The Hero…”

His sword seemed to drown out all noise around them, making his voice grow even louder.

“I, Kuro Kurosu, the Demon King, shall show you but a fraction of my power. You have earned it.”

She lifted up her sword—did her hands just tremble? No, he must have been seeing things.

“Brace yourself, for here I come!”

His sword began to fall—

“Eek!”

Eek…?

Irina now dropped like a rock out of the sky…