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Volume 4, 123A: GUTHUNTER VS THE SHIELD OF SANCTUARY
Volume 4, 123A: GUTHUNTER VS THE SHIELD OF SANCTUARY
Volume 4, Chapter 123A: GUTHUNTER VS THE SHIELD OF SANCTUARY
Subaru: “Got it? In total there are four people in the mansion we have to save. They're all girls.”
Inside the carriage, Subaru raises four fingers as he explains.
The scenery flows by as they speed along the rugged road. But even so no wind or jolting assaults their carriage. While vaguely finding it a mystifying sensation no matter how many times he experiences, Subaru nods to the two people looking at his raised fingers.
Subaru: “First is Frederica. Our buddy Garfiel's older sister. Saying the attacker's already there, Frederica's the only one who could buy us any time.”
Garfiel: “Sis, hrn... Ain't seen her for ten years now.”
Looking uneasy, Garfiel scratches at his short, blond hair.
Garfiel had been so stubborn about staying in SANCTUARY. It's going to be hard for him to face Frederica, who had abandoned SANCTUARY for the outside world.
Otto: “You truly have not seen her in a decade? From the Margrave and Ram-san's accounts, it sounds as though they travelled between the mansion and SANCTUARY rather frequently.”
Garfiel: “It wouldd'er been awkward fer sis too. She never came along with that asshole Roswaal...
sh'did send a bunch of letters though, apparently.”
Otto: “Apparently?”
Garfiel: “Gave them all t'granny without reading them.”
Garfiel averts his gaze, looking sulky. His awkward attitude toward his sister is exactly that of a child. Their reunion is definitely going to be an emotional one.
Subaru sighs. Otto's impression of all this looks to be about the same as his as he pulls the reins.
Otto: “Then the second would be Petra-chan.”
Subaru: “Yeah. Roswaal Mansion's precocious and hopeful new maid Petra's the second. She's a completely ordinary village girl with no underside at all, so if she gets targeted it's 100% Bad.”
The attacks on Roswaal Mansion so far have ended in dead Petras 100% of the time.
The other three are also highly likely to die, but Petra has no means to fight back at all. So it's common that she gets dealt with quickly.
If they're going to protect her, they will need to find her immediately.
Subaru: “Next is Rem. She's Ram's younger sister. Though you probably don't remember her.”
Garfiel: “M' still n' disbelief 'bout it, Captain. 'S just the idea of Ram havin' an identical twin sister. How th'hell could I forget that, when my amazin' self's known her such a long time?”
Subaru: “It's a CURSE where even Ram's forgotten her. Talking about ways to deal with that's gonna be a change in topic, but... anyway, Rem's not so urgent. The assassin attacking the mansion, Elsa, doesn't have Rem on her list of targets. I don't think her employer knew about Rem's existence when they hired her.”
Otto: “Although, should she discover Rem-san sleeping in the mansion, I doubt the encounter will end peacefully.”
Subaru: “...You're right about that.”
We're talking about Elsa here.
Rem might not be on her commissioner’s list, but if she discovers her, she'll probably do something just for kicks. And while Subaru hasn't seen it himself, Rem has been killed during these loops. All he can do is pray that Rem is not in a room that Elsa just happens to open.
Otto: “Regardless, this dependence on the opponent's decisions can't be called an overly great strategy.”
Subaru: “Where I'm depending on you guys, and also depending on the enemy. This is Natsuki Subaru's brand of warfare, dubbed REVERSE FURINKAZAN.”
Garfiel: “S-so cool...!”
Garfiel clenches his fists, eyes sparkling.
That his random bullshit statement has given Garfiel such expectations makes even Subaru feel guilty. He decides that later, when they have real time for it, he will teach Garfiel about actual furinkazan.
He furrows his brows as he looks at Garfiel.
Subaru: “Though...”
Subaru: “I mean it's been horrifying watching this, but is this actually seriously working?”
Garfiel: “Well we're in a rush, ain't we? 'F there were any better way, my amazin' self'd go for that instead.”
Says Garfiel, looking displeased.
His words are sensible ones, but Subaru's statement is truly inevitable. For Garfiel is presently outside the carriage, holding on to the thing, while talking with Subaru and Otto through the window.
His hands clutch the windowframe as he dangles there, hanging alongside the zooming carriage with his feet brushing across the ground, getting dragged along by the vehicle.
Subaru has seen an enemy get mashed in a carriage's wheels before, and being that this could easily be a repeat if Garfiel's hands slip, he can't watch on very peacefully.
Subaru: “If something goes wrong and you get smushed, it's no holds barred on my PTSD and we also stop having anything we can do about the mansion.”
Garfiel: “Th'hell, Captain. Bein' a damn worrywart. Everythin's all fine. Just watch this! N'thisn'thisn'this! N'this n'this!”
Subaru: “Stop!! I'm gonna die!! I'm gonna die before you do!!”
With the windowframe as the pivot, Garfiel starts spinning round and round using just his arm strength. Between the WINDBREAKER BLESSING and Garfiel's inhuman grip these acrobatics are possible. And his hold on the frame is so strong that the thing warps and creaks. Subaru can imagine the pending despair of the carriage's owner which is to say Otto.
Otto: “His EARTHSOUL BLESSING doesn't come into effect unless his feet are touching the ground. Since we need Garfiel to be in top form, or something close to it once we reach the mansion, we can only rationalize this as a necessary measure.”
Subaru: “I mean I get the logic. You know, from an outside perspective this looks like us speeding as fast as we can to shake off some guy trying to get in the carriage. When what's actually happening is we threw a fourteen year old out of the carriage to drag him along the ground while zooming at top speed.”
Otto: “You do realise how preposterous both those perspectives sound when you use that phrasing!?”
Otto, handling the reins, probably wants to avoid giving that first impression. But the two dragons tirelessly pulling the carriage, Patrasche and Frufoo, pay little heed to the coachman's intentions and just run ceaselessly.
This is all more or less why Garfiel is using this mock-acrobatic means of locomotion.
Emilia's magic did heal his serious wounds back in SANCTUARY, but that did not replenish his lost blood or mana.
The travel distance between SANCTUARY and the mansion is about half a day's worth. Even if they have the dragons sprinting well, how much time can Subaru and the others really spend on recuperating?
Nothing has changed about Garfiel, with his EARTHSOUL BLESSING amassing power from the ground, being their ace. Subaru and Otto are only there to arrange a setting where he can fight at his best.
Garfiel: “But anyway, y'stopped talkin' halfway, Captain.”
Subaru: “Huh?”
Garfiel: “Th'thing we were talkin' bout. We gotta save four people, n'we only got three. I ain't heard 'bout this last person. Who's she off bein'?”
Pulling himself up, Garfiel peeks into the carriage. He gives Otto a questioning gaze as well, but Otto just shakes his head and shrugs.
Otto: “I'm afraid that I haven't encountered this final person either. I was in the mansion for approximately a week... but I never even saw her in passing.”
Garfiel: “You ain't even seen her face n' she hates yer so much she don't wanna see you, yer gonna be okay, guy?”
Otto: “I would like to think that that is not the reason I've failed to see her!”
Otto frantically voices his objection while Garfiel watches on with pity.
Subaru strikes his fist against the seat and sighs.
Subaru: “The last one... Beatrice, probably, won't come out unless it's me.”
Otto and Garfiel shut their mouths as they look at Subaru.
The seriousness in his voice probably meant they believe him, even without asking why. Truly reassuring companions.
Subaru: “I'm taking Beatrice out of there. Dragging her out of there. I need to do it.”
Nobody else. Subaru has to be the one.
Even if Beatrice puts on a show, acting like she doesn't want it.
Garfiel: “'F that's what yer say then that's what it is, Captain.”
Otto: “If possible, I think we should evacuate the nearby villagers in Arlam as well. It will avoid some chaos. How about I do it?”
The two each show their support for Subaru's decision.
Subaru has his role. And they have theirs.
Truly, entirely, dependable people.
Subaru: “Thank you, idiots.”
Otto: “He's incapable of giving an honest thanks, the idiot!”
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
The battle escalated entirely, spreading destruction across the luxurious mansion.
Steel clashes against steel, shrieking metal comes with showers of sparks, the blows and slashes destroying the mundane life of the moonlit Roswaal Mansion.
The windowpane shatters and the shards of glass scatter. Damage to the floor sends the carpet flying, while paintings hanging on the wall splinter to fragments.
Woman: “Wonderful. You're excellent.”
Garfiel: “It don't make me happy to hear that from anyone 'cept Ram!!”
Garfiel launches his shielded right arm, jabbing past the woman as she dodges aside, for the strike to slam into the wall. He pursues her in her escape, using the momentum from his right arm to pivot in the air and strike her backhanded with his left.
Woman: “Bad luck.”
Garfiel: “It ain't over yet!”
The woman dodges. But before she can swing her blade, Garfiel wrenches his body again to dislodge his right arm from the wall, sending a strike hurtling for her. The woman aborts her downward slash to raise her arm, using the kickback to flip backward through the air—the instant that Garfiel's blow skirts past the woman's feet, the room ruptures.
Backhand blow to the left.
Punch to the right.
Sweep leg back and to the left.
Jab to the right.
Pivot and kick to the left.
Striking blow after blow as he spins, Garfiel offers no leniency in his pursuit of the woman. She has no room to do anything except avoid Garfiel's assault, and sensing that her feet have reached the end of the corridor, Garfiel raises his head.
Garfiel: “Yer done!!”
Stepping forward, Garfiel unleashes his fists.
The punches drill through the air, silver reflections of moonlight shooting through the dark corridor in violent pursuit of the woman.
These are the arms of a beast, so powerful that they will assuredly turn a human body into gore. With her back to the wall, the woman flicks up her leg to place the sole of her right foot against the wall also.
She determines her aim to counter the incoming punches, jabbing out her dagger so that Garfiel will impale himself on its blade. Metal clashes against metal as the knife is caught between the shields. However,
Garfiel: “Like that trick's gonna work!”
Her plan must've been to slip her dagger between the shields and stick Garfiel with her knife in his charge. But Garfiel's muscles are not so weak that any woman's skinny arms will accomplish anything.
With the kurkri's point still between the shields, Garfiel twists aside to snap the dagger apart. But before he does—
Woman: “Then what if I add another trick?”
With her wall-set foot as the pivot, the woman flips upwards.
Instantly, the woman's foot strikes the handle of her trapped knife, opening a slight gap between the shields.
And into that opening,
Woman: “Here's the real thing.”
Garfiel: “—!?”
Now entirely inverted, the woman holds yet another knife in her other, left hand. This is her third omninous-looking kukri. Just how many is she hiding on her?
The thin knife easily slips into the gap between the dagger and shields.
The deadly blade does not even whistle through the air as it pressed forward, aiming to slice Garfiel's neck. Even if he transforms this second, the strike will hit the most lethal of spots. But Garfiel chooses a fiendish way to counter the blade.
Woman: “Incredible.”
Garfiel: “—yhher prhahise ain't ghonher mhake me happy!”
The woman whispers, enraptured. Garfiel spears his head forward.
His sharp fangs literally bite the woman's left blade to a stop. Blood drips from the shallow cuts at the corners of mouth, and the knife's metallic stench pierces his nostrils.
Garfiel: “Fhuckin' stinks!!”
Putting force into his jaw, Garfiel snaps the knife to bits.
He spits out the shattered fragments as he swings his clawed foot up to strike the yet-inverted woman from below. The force of the kick will burst her skull apart—to counter it, she sacrifices her arm.
A wet cloth sounds to have slapped against the wall as pure scarlet splatters over the hallway. Garfiel uses his sleeve to wipe the blood from his face, and gives a deep sigh out his nose as he glances back.
Several meters away, having escaped the dead end, stands the woman. But with many bones broken from her wrist to her shoulder, her left arm hangs crooked and twisted.
Garfiel: “Pretty fuckin' good t'get away by losin' only an arm. Crap, m'mouth hurts.”
Woman: “...Huhu, thank you. Ahh... it hurts. It truly does. I feel alive.”
Garfiel: “Eh? Ain't just cuttin' others, yer like getting' cut yerself too? Now that ain't somethin' my amazin' self can understand. Not that I was thinkin' t'make understanding with yer at all.”
The woman drips blood as she smiles splendidly, bringing about visceral disgust in Garfiel. He batters his shields together—and notices there, behind the woman,
Garfiel: “Hey, sis. Th'fuck're you still doin' over there? Like yer just saw, 's not feelin' like I can show you me bein' cool th'whole time. Get off t'doin' what yer have t'be doin'.”
Frederica: “...I-indeed. I shall.”
Frederica had not actually been watching in silence, but had been petrified and unable to move. That was how extra-dimensional the fight between Garfiel and the woman was.
If Frederica had gotten involved in this battle, she would swiftly withdraw after the first few blows. These two are just that superior.
Frederica keeps her attention on the woman's back as she glances at her destination—Rem's sleeping room. It's only a few meters away, and she is much closer to the room than the woman is, but she cannot envision herself reaching its door before her.
If she could at least reach the room, she could shoulder Rem and escape out the inside window.
Woman: “You don't need to be so guarded, older sister.”
Frederica: “...Huh?”
Woman: “Right now, I am stricken with your little brother. It doesn't bother me what business you have in whatever room, or what you're going to do there. None of my interest is devoted to that.”
Frederica: “—!”
The woman does not even glance back as she assures Frederica her safety.
She probably isn't lying. She doesn't seem like the kind of person to trick the enemy in this manner, and she doesn't need to, either. Above all, anyone listening would hear the sincerity in her words.
Right now, all of her attention is devoted to Garfiel.
She truly could not give less of a care about Frederica.
But the woman emits an aura so dreadful that it could encapsulate the whole mansion. A pungent, violent bloodlust, which make her initial foreboding air look like a child's joke.
Garfiel: “Sis.”
Frederica: “—I believe in you.”
Frederica swims through the corridor, drowning in the woman's ghastliness as it is, to reach her destined room—
—After glancing at Garfiel one last time, Frederica slips into the room. Witnessing this, Garfiel gives a deep sigh.
Garfiel: “Yer so unruffled that yer can overlook sis... ain't what's happenin' here.”
Woman: “Do I look like enough a cheater that I can stay unruffled when faced with such a wonderful partner? Right now, I am only for you. —Ahh, I can't bear it.”
Both radiant allure and blood-iron horror coexist in this grisly woman. She smiles. Bathed in her fiery, passionate gaze, Garfiel spreads his stance and stoops his body low.
Garfiel: “Honestly, 's just fuckin' gross. M'rippin' yer apart, manglin' yer t'shreds.”
Woman: “I promise to extract your guts without hurting them too.”
Her left arm still dangling, the woman's healthy right arm readies her knife. She stoops down so low that her breasts could touch the floor,
Woman: “I am the GUTHUNTER, Elsa Granhiert.”
Garfiel: “...The Strongest of Shields, Garfiel Tinzel.”
The instant that the introductions are over, Elsa moves.
Elsa's smile phases into blank darkness as she sprints, so swift that she gives no impression of being wounded. The instant that Garfiel hears the first footstep, out peals the noise of pounding against the walls, again and again and again, from every direction.
Elsa kicks off the floor, off the walls, off the ceiling as she closes in on Garfiel. She moves so fast that he cannot focus his aim, and moves like no creature he has seen before. Something approaching with these nightmarish movements was no humanoid nor beast.
And the most surprising thing is, she's obviously faster now than she was before being wounded.
Garfiel: “Entertainin'!!”
Garfiel bares his fangs, laughs, and moves.
If the enemy is using tricky movements to approach, then Garfiel will counter by doing the same. He puts his hands and feet to the floor. And off his rear foot, explodes.
Garfiel the human-sized bullet shoots down the mansion's corridor.
He positions his shields before him, his charge as ferocious as a tiger's with a shockwave that blasts away the shattered window glass and fragments of wall.
He does not observe what comes of that, instead roaring as he spears his arm into the floor to force himself to a stop. He immediately flips himself around and back into bestial posture, and again his rear foot annihilates the floor.
The quake rocks the mansion, the carpets suffer in the destruction, flying about in tatters. Shreds of red cloth catch on Garfiel as he soars—
Garfiel: “—!!”
Elsa: “Ahahahaha!!”
Elsa plummets down from the ceiling, swinging her blade, which strikes against the zooming Garfiel's shield. The shockwave stabs through eardrums as destruction rocks the moonlit corridor.
Elsa laughs as she rebounds, making a breakneck flip sideways. The force of the slash has thrown Garfiel's course, sending him plummeting head-first into the wall. He busts through the stonework to land gracelessly in a guest room.
Plumes of white dust shadow the areas as Garfiel grabs the leg of the nearby bed. His biceps swell as he easily lifts the 100-kilo bed and tosses it out the hole he just came through. Boom, bust, and from beyond the bisected bed comes the black woman's thrown blade.
Garfiel parries it with his left shields and uses his right to slam the approaching Elsa in the face. But she ducks, and the strike merely grazes her braid. The end of her black hair tickles the tip of Garfiel's nose, when he then obeys the terror rushing up his spine and immediately zooms forward. He barely manages to dodge the slash coming to slice up through his groin, his back instead taking the hit as he blasts though the door. The battlezone relocates to the corridor.
Giving him no time to catch his breath, Elsa comes zooming in pursuit of Garfiel. Garfiel kicks at her skinny waist. A hit, isn't what it feels like. Elsa contorts her body strangely to evade, and dodges the shockwave from the kick by shifting so that it merely brushes her belly. Garfiel stands stuck with his leg outstretched as the blade of Elsa's kukri butches the air, closing in.
This isn't like the attack she fired before, when cornered. If Garfiel tries to catch this in his mouth, the speed and force of the thing will slice his head in two. Garfiel's decision is instantaneous as he catches the sweeping blade on his right shield, allows its path to continue to his left shield, and then away.
Shrieking metal. Showers of red and yellow sparks. Dark eyes opened in surprise, and the woman's exposed belly. Garfiel roars as he slams his raised leg to the ground. He takes his stance and moves to drive his fangs into Elsa's torso, intending to quite appropriately rip open her guts.
Garfiel: “—!”
That he aborts his lunge and uses the momentum to pull his head in instead can only be called instinct.
Late to dodge, Garfiel's left ear goes flying off and he takes evasive action through the spray of blood. He puts his foot to the wall, dodges the oncoming strike by shooting to the ceiling. Dodges, dodges, dodges entirely.
Garfiel's outstretched arm rips through the ceiling, leading part of the upper floor to collapse. This creates an opening in Elsa's pursuit, which Garfiel uses to escape. His hands and feet land on the carpet, and Garfiel uses his palm to put pressure on the bleeding coming from his head and its missing ear.
He takes a ragged breath. Grits his teeth at the burning pain. He sees Elsa cut through the thick smoke, walking closer, and smiles.
Garfiel: “Y'fuck... 'm pretty sure I'm meant ter'v turned yer left arm useless.”
Elsa: “You're right. It hurt. But people's wounds do heal.”
Garfiel: “This's just goin' of my piddly knowledge, but when a mangled arm fuckin' heals we ain't talkin' about humans any more.”
Or really, it's transcending the category of 'living creature'.
Garfiel may have his EARTHSOUL BLESSING, but he still needs several hours if he's going to make a shattered arm operable again. When on mana-rich earth, and doing everything he can to slack off. That she can heal during battle, and so quickly, is ridiculous.
Subaru had told him beforehand that she doesn't die even when you kill her, and now Garfiel's initial speculation feels legitimate.
Garfiel: “Which makes things quick. Yer ain't a human. Dunno 'f yer were born one, but either way yer at least stopped bein' one.”
Elsa: “You don't look it, but you're surprisingly clever.”
Garfiel: “I told yer it only makes me happy when it's Ram praisin' me. N' anyway I got n'idea 'bout yer weird healin'.”
Jabbing out his finger, Garfiel states his speculation.
Despite everything and despite how surprising it may sound, Garfiel likes books. With nobody to rival him in strength in the boring SANCTUARY, reading became an important time-killing activity for him.
But that said, the books Garfiel likes are adventure novels, myths, folklore, things in that vein. His interests unfortunately do not land on anything productive for procuring knowledge.
Garfiel: “N'th'books my amazin' self read, there were lots'er monsters, heroes, those kinda things where yer don't know if they really existed. And there was one'v'm just like you.”
Elsa: “...I'd like it if you didn't equate me to a phantasm from a picture book.”
Garfiel: “It wasn't a picture book, was one'm full'a letters. ...Did have some pictures in it but whatever that don't matter. And I can't say clearly it was a phantasm.”
Looking indifferent, Elsa listens to Garfiel.
This thing where she entertains conversations to the end really does jar with the ferocious impression she gives while fighting.
Garfiel'll have that face of hers going pale.
Garfiel: “After all, yer th'same as one'v the old Witches.”
Elsa: “—”
The swaying motion of her dagger halts.
Elsa's dark eyes look nonchalantly at Garfiel. He jabs his finger at her,
Garfiel: “—Yer a goddamn VAMPIRE!”
Elsa: “Not that I drink blood or anything.”
With a sigh, Elsa kicks off the ground.
Her left arm has healed completely. She weilds kukri in both hands as she closes in on Garfiel. He blocks she sweeping slash by raising his shields, simultaneously shooting his right leg out to kick her—and Elsa launches her own kick along the exact same trajectory, the two of them crashing feet- first into each other and blasting away.
Garfiel: “Not fuckin' cool! Yer arm's seriously all back t'normal!?”
Elsa: “But didn't you heal your ear as well, while you were buying time? We're even.”
Garfiel mentally sticks his tongue out at her.
During their time talking, Garfiel used the hand plugging his wound to heal the injury with magic. He hopes for the missing section of his ear to steadily come back, but if he suffers a wound equal to what Elsa suffered, then Garfiel's healing magic will only amount to a quick and dirty stop-gap.
Garfiel: “Yer ain't denyin' it. So yer really are a vampire?”
Elsa: “People can call it whatever they want. I don't suck blood, and my meals are ordinary. When I'm in the sunlight all that happens is that the guards get riled, so it's not really anything special.”
Garfiel: “So yer on about guts so much because yer a vampire?”
Elsa: “That's particular to me. I just like gazing at fresh guts and touching warm-looking intestines.”
Garfiel: “That's way fuckin' creepier.”
Elsa sheds and dumps her impeding black cloak.
Garfiel judges that Elsa's motivation has spiked even further and clicks his teeth. He batters his shields together,
Garfiel: “S' a big world... bit've a drag, but yer better pull it off, Captain.”
With that, Garfiel roars as he swings his shields down at the oncoming Elsa.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
—He opens the door, and what comes from the room is the scent of paper.
Perhaps the cloying the smell carries the weight of all the days and years spent closed inside this space. Or perhaps if you consider the appellation A TIME-STOPPED ROOM, days have nothing to do with it.
Subaru: Just got stuck with some time in Sanctuary to think about all that stuff. And your answer's another thing I wanna hear.
Beatrice: “—How come?”
Without the librarian's permission, Subaru enters the Archive.
As always, the mood here is both melancholy and tranquil. There are no windows to let in sun, or for ventilation. Staying here a long time is bound to worsen your mood and your health.
And especially so when the expression of the girl watching Subaru is so utterly exhausted.
Beatrice: “How come you managed to reach this room again, I suppose? I don't remember calling you, in fact.”
Subaru: “Sorry, but showing up uninvited is just who I am. Impossible to forget that time back in middle school where I showed up uninvited to a friend's birthday party and made the whole thing awkward.”
Even dense Subaru decided to be more prudent after that one.
Though, since he announced “Well, that's all for today!” and left noisier than anyone else, he stopped getting invited to anybody's birthday party.
Subaru: “It's miserable and my heart's about a second from popping so let's cancel that topic.”
Beatrice: “You're the one who brought it up, I suppose. You're like that about everything, doing things always of your own accord, in fact.”
Subaru: “Yup, always of my accord. So no matter how much you hate it, I'm here.”
He sees the girl swallow her breath.
After respectfully bowing his head in a way that she can see it,
Subaru: “I'm taking you out of here, Beatrice. —I'm dragging you out into the sunshine, where we'll play until your dress is caked utterly brown with mud.”
Beatrice sits as she always does, on the stepladder, cradling herself.
With the black tome cradled in her arms as always, her wavering eyes gaze at Subaru.