With Shichen intervening, the hunting party was practically unharmed—even when the White Whale sent people flying with body slams. A dome of protection took every blow, and a pulse of healing followed; no one stayed injured for long.
Over with the logistics corps, the mood eased. People watched the fight like a moving picture, chatting and laughing, debating whose performance shone brightest.
The answer was obvious: Wilhelm.
The old man charged as if possessed, blade carving the Whale from snout to tail, from crown to belly—wherever he could land a strike. No surprise—the one with the deepest hatred struck the hardest.
"Oo—hoo—hoo—!"
However huge it was, cumulative damage hurt. The Whale finally loosed a roar of pain, its vast bulk shuddering.
The bellow, a thunderclap, shook the air. Everyone nearby crashed to the ground, ears bleeding, blood from their noses—then healed in an instant. Not just the hunters; even the ground-dragons, cowering from instinct, drew breath again. For a cry alone to injure—worthy of its name, the White Whale.
It bled freely now, yet it still drifted at ease in the sky, apparently unfazed. Then it swivelled its neck, at last fixing that vast gaze on the tiny humans who defied it.
That eye—larger than outstretched arms—made hearts quail.
"Pretty big," Shichen said with a smile, holding Rem in his arms.
"You haven't felt yet," Rem chimed in.
"Hm?" Shichen glanced down—just in time to see Rem guiding his hand against her chest.
"...What are you doing?"
"There's nothing else to do," she said, tipping her head up with a cheeky grin.
"…"
There was no one else around, Ferris wasn't in sight; Shichen humored her, fingers moving.
"Mm~" Rem breathed, pleased.
"Shichen, Rem, you two…" Emilia stared, scandalized.
In public, like this. She knew their relationship wasn't ordinary, but this bold? Surely they weren't going to ask her to—
"Emilia-sama, do you want to join?" Rem offered.
"N-no!" Emilia shook her head furiously.
"Don't be shy. No one's watching. Besides, Shichen said mine are bigger," Rem said with a faint smile.
"Bigger…" Emilia's eyes dropped; she knew what Rem meant. Big or small—did it matter? Aside from being more obvious to Shichen's hand… did bigger please him more?
"Don't listen to Rem's nonsense. Ignore her," Shichen said, helpless.
"Mm…" Emilia nodded, unsettled—how could she not mind? But this was hardly the moment.
"Oo-hoo-hoo-hoo—!"
The Whale's roar dragged every eye skyward. Its full form—rarely seen clearly—was at last unveiled.
It bore the name because it looked like a whale. Snow-white hide like plates of jagged rock, ranks of fine white bristles across its skin. From its lower body jutted sickle-shaped pectoral fins, like a reaper's scythes; the smaller dorsal and tail fins matched that shape. Its head and flanks were cratered with pits that opened and closed like breathing.
Strip away the ugliness and it was simply a whale. Except it was at least fifty meters long—a white mountain gliding freely through the air. Hardly any wonder people feared it.
Without overwhelming power, how could you kill such a thing? No wonder it had lived this long. And thinking that, the terror of the witch who made it became clearer still. Ordinary folk, weak as they were, had every reason to fear witches. Those who possessed extraordinary strength stepped forward to fight.
"Where are you looking? Are you mocking us?"
A ringing woman's voice cut through the din; a white stroke traced itself across the Whale's brow. A sword slash—cleanly opening the hide and drawing blood.
Crusch stood astride a ground-dragon, blade poised—though in her hand was nothing. Her famous "One Blow, One Hundred Felled," a range-ignoring, formless sword.
"Grr—!"
"Ho—!"
The Whale howled; the hunters' spirits soared, spells and martial techniques flaring in answer.
"And me."
A shadow vaulted from the ranks, light as a feather, alighting on the Whale's back. Against that bulk, he was an ant on an elephant—yet every flash of his sword scored deep on the monster's snout.
Wilhelm, of course. Fourteen years of waiting drove him forward without a backward glance. He rammed one blade into the Whale's head, drew another, and carved. Blades flashed and fell, carving real wounds.
"Grr—!"
The Whale twisted in pain, trying to shake the man from its crown. That gigantic body stirred a gale with a shrug. People skidded backward, blown like leaves—
And still it cried, thrashing, flicking its tail in the air. Wilhelm was still there, braced on his swords, sprinting along its back, red spray arcing in his wake. However it writhed, he didn't fall, etching a deep gouge that bled freely. The beast was flayed and blood-soaked.
"Grr—!"
The tone changed. White fog bloomed, exploding outward and swallowing everyone.
"What is this fog?"
"The erasure mist Shichen spoke of?"
"The barrier held…"
"Begone!"
A calm voice echoed within the fog; a storm swept through, and in an instant the haze dispersed. The field reappeared.
"Shichen…" Crusch looked ahead; he stood there, hand in Emilia's.
"Old sir—how was it?" Shichen called to Wilhelm as he dropped back to earth.
"Not enough… but it can't be helped," Wilhelm said, shaking his head.
"Then it's my turn?"
"Please," Wilhelm bowed.
"Leave it to me." Shichen's eyes lifted to the sky—where three White Whales loomed.
The wounds had enraged it; now its "true terror" showed. One Whale was bad enough. Three was—well.
It was time. He'd let Wilhelm have his fill.
"Emilia, scared?" he asked, smiling down at her.
"With you here, not even a little," she said, proud.
"Then… let's put on a little show."
"What does 'show off' mean?"
"You'll see."
Shichen and Emilia rose slowly into the air, hovering before the three beasts. The Whale's pupil dwarfed them both—yet the monsters only stared, frozen.
The air rippled. A green light flared under Shichen's feet, coalescing, uncoiling—into a vast emerald serpent of a dragon whose tail they could not see. Shichen and Emilia set down on its brow.
"What is that? A new monster?"
"A snake? A dragon?"
"Did Shichen-san make that?"
"A-amazing…"
All eyes locked on the green giant—logistics commander Anastasia, Crusch, the hunters, everyone.
Shichen lifted his left hand. A triangular sigil—Delta—glowed on the back.
In a quiet voice, he gave the order: "Rayquaza—dot the dragon's eye."
"Roooar—!"
Rayquaza threw back its head and sang, then sheathed itself in green light and straightened into a lance. It rocketed forward. The White Whales didn't react—there was no time. In a blink, green struck home.
What followed was effortless ruin. The green spear punched clean through the Whale—and through all three.
Eyes tracked the streak as it shot past—then the ground's shudder stole attention.
Boom—!
Only then did they realize the Whales had fallen—slamming into the plain, utterly still.
~~~
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