[555] The Power of a Day (4)
* * *
Shirone's sequence formula finally approached the Kyung.
The closer it came, the more the vortex of light spread in a vicious swell, and the surrounding scenery warped into grotesque shapes.
The vortex's texture was nothing but the motion of countless particles, like dots stamped across space, yet those watching could sense its flow through the imagination of their minds.
'So what the hell is that?'
As the singularity neared, Miro grew quieter.
The training hall was filled with a current of light that flared like burning fire.
'Just a little more! Just a little more!'
As the experience points accumulated day by day began to roar toward an explosion, Shirone lashed his spirit into motion.
'I trust the power of a day!'
That acceleration came from always giving his best in every moment.
What he would gain after running himself ragged and burning the experience called failure would be a joy so vast it could erase all the pain up to now.
'It's coming! It's coming!'
Far off, the realm of the Kyung waited for Shirone.
"Uooooh!"
Screamer's flurries struck the punching bag so fast they blurred into nothing.
Once the distance was set, the barrage—precise, fast, and powerful enough to leave one helpless—was skill honed through countless repetitions.
'This ends it!'
He poured everything into a single strike; the wire holding the punching bag snapped with a clang.
The heavy bag flew three meters, failed to steady itself, and crashed down. Pyroker's eyes widened.
"You…!"
He knew showing emotion was childish, but he couldn't stop the suppressed feelings from exploding.
"Waaaaaah!"
Screamer clenched both fists and spread his arms; the muscles of his torso rippled and strained grotesquely.
It was a rush of pleasure no ordinary victory could match.
'It's complete!'
At the instant Iruki's eyes flashed like electric sparks, the quake he had longed for finally began.
"It's done!"
When the bunker that had been buried under Mercodain for so long exploded, the hall turned into chaos.
The shaking ground sent every dish crashing to the floor. The maids clutched their heads and screamed as they ran this way and that.
"...."
Leaning against the wall, family head Albino watched calmly, then turned his gaze to the second-floor stairs.
Iruki was coming down.
"Congratulations. You finally smashed the family heirloom."
Iruki shrugged as if it were nothing, but he couldn't hide the gleam of delight in his eyes.
"I'll apologize to the ancestors when I go to the other world."
He said it briefly and left the mansion to prepare to return to school.
"An apology, huh…"
Albino muttered, watching his son's retreating back.
"It'll probably be the other way around."
"You can do it! Perfectly!"
Centered on Amy, Fire Strike spread outward.
The flames burst like blooming petals and annihilated all fifty-eight targets without fail.
One hundred percent accuracy.
Amy trembled as she extracted exactly fifty-eight sonic pulses from the overlapping detonations.
But the momentary thrill passed and her eyes sharpened as she stared into the air.
'I will graduate no matter what.'
Her scarlet eyes burned with the memory of last year's humiliation.
Water in the royal villa's pool was sucked into two swift currents and formed a grotesque whirlpool.
A submerged Pony drew the water power to its limit; with a pop a water column shot up and flung the pool's water outside.
"Eek!"
The maids holding change of clothes screamed and backed away.
Water that struck the surrounding walls flowed back along the floor and slowly raised the pool level again.
'Success.'
Pony closed her eyes calmly, forcing herself to endure so as not to sully royal dignity.
"Miss, congratulations! That was amazing!"
The maids, ignorant of magic, gave ingratiating praise, but it wasn't a title given by others—so a faint smile crept onto her usually icy face.
'The future is mine alone.'
Dorothy, buried under her blanket, jerked upright and shuddered.
After convulsing for a while she collapsed forward and buried her face in the pillow as if drained of strength.
"Haah…"
Her glasses sat crooked as she turned her head; the look she gave the floor was filled with satisfaction.
Zziiiing! Zziiiing!
Her puppet Hikkari twisted its neck and limb joints independently and danced.
D-4 days.
In the candlelit training hall, Shirone pushed the sequence formula past the point of sleep.
Miro, like a midwife catching a difficult birth, waited tenaciously.
Both were determined to finish today.
'9.2 trillion! 9.4 trillion!'
The realization of oneness had been achieved days ago; all that remained was to strengthen the law of the avatar.
And at last even that reached its end.
Kyung.
Shock lit Shirone's eyes.
"Hah—!"
Psyche Transcendence—Oneness.
A heat-haze rose from Shirone's body and ascended into a colossal, angelic form.
Radiant Archangel—Sibulsangpokmae.
Miro widened her eyes and studied the avatar.
It resembled Ikael in some ways, but it was male, its features sharp.
The avatar's body that had been looking down at Miro rapidly broke apart and began to be sucked into Shirone's body.
'What is this now?'
The avatar of Prajna is a phenomenon revealed through Psyche Transcendence.
The stronger an avatar's power, the larger and clearer its aura becomes.
"Hah! Hah!"
Shirone breathed heavily, as if he could not believe what he had accomplished, and lifted his head abruptly.
"I did it! I did it!"
'It hasn't disappeared. It fused.'
The vicious vortex of light had only calmed; a serene glow still hummed around Shirone's body.
When Shirone stepped toward Miro, light afterimages that seemed to trace a body's outline overlapped around him.
"Wait."
Miro raised a hand to stop him.
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Do you feel anything different? Does the scenery look different to you?"
"No. I don't really notice anything."
Shirone said so, but every time he turned his head Miro clearly saw the afterimages vibrate.
'You can't feel it? Then as I thought—.'
After a primary analysis, Miro pointed to the far end of the training hall and gave an order.
"Walk over there."
As Shirone moved, the recoil of the overlapping images intensified until the afterimage detached from his body.
'Time is vibrating. Judging by the gap between the real body and the afterimage, roughly a one-second offset.'
Frustrated, Shirone reached the wall and asked immediately.
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"There is. As you know, when you reach oneness, the avatar's law influences the laws of the world. And your law…"
Miro found the clearest definition.
"It breaks the wall of time."
"Huh? The wall of time?"
"Let's test it. Walk back to me."
When Shirone turned toward Miro, the afterimage made of light vibrated in every direction.
Each afterimage was Shirone's past and a possible future.
"Stop."
When Shirone halted, an admiring sound escaped Miro.
He had come to rest about half a step behind where she had last seen him, as if he'd stepped back one second into the past.
"Did you feel that? You moved about half a step behind where I was seeing just now."
"No, I didn't feel anything. I just stopped."
"That's it. It's neither teleportation nor time reversal. You perceive time much more fluidly than others."
"I'm not sure I follow."
Miro raised both hands as if catching a ball.
"Listen carefully. All matter is trapped in a mold of time. Humans can only experience one second per second."
Shirone understood up to there.
"But your avatar blew that mold apart. It's like an internal explosion widened the mold's space."
"So… exactly what does that mean?"
"Simply put, you don't live one second per second. A past second and a future second are both included in your present. In other words, you perceive three seconds' worth of time inside a single second."
Miro stepped closer.
"Proof time. I'll punch your chest. Don't block it beforehand—only block it after you've been hit."
Miro waited so Shirone couldn't time it, then struck at an unexpected moment.
Shirone stepped back and grabbed her wrist; his face went pale.
"…What happened?"
"You blocked it after being hit, right?"
"Yes—I was definitely hit… but I'm not sure. It felt like I imagined being hit. The memory is there, but it doesn't feel real."
"That's it. To cut to the chase: I couldn't actually strike you. Because you erased the event in which your past self was hit."
Shirone loosened his grip on her wrist and asked, "How is that possible?"
Miro drew a graph in the air as she spoke.
"Let's say the time coordinate when I struck your chest was at 23 seconds. A normal person can't escape the event at 23 seconds. But you live 22 and 23 simultaneously. And you also live 23 and 24 simultaneously."
She placed her fist against Shirone's chest and added softly, "Don't dodge this time."
"Okay, I hit you at 23 seconds. Your avatar perceives 22, 23, and 24 at once. That means what's already decided for others isn't necessarily decided for you."
"Because 22 seconds is also part of my present."
"Exactly. Because 22 through 24 are all present, the result at 23 becomes fluid."
Miro stepped back.
"Now try the opposite. You try to hit me."
Shirone took a deep breath and focused.
As his volition to act solidified, the light's vibration intensified and the angelic avatar reappeared above his head.
'So that's it. A Radiant Archangel that destroys time.'
That was Sibulsangpokmae.
"Now!"
The instant Shirone's eyes snapped open, the angelic form collapsed and was reabsorbed into his body.
Dozens of afterimages burst out and lined up to deliver a blow to Miro.
'Probabilities of future events.'
He had to think that because the brightness of each image varied.
'The clearest one must be the most likely.'
Miro bent forward to dodge on that assumption, but before she realized it Shirone's fist struck her cheek.
Exactly as expected. Miro felt the tremoring impact and looked up.
"Got it?"
"…Yes."
From Shirone's perspective it was deceptively simple.
Miro had bent her torso; all he needed to do was thrust his fist to where her face was.
"For ordinary people, an event that will happen one second later becomes the same as a present event for you."
Miro straightened and smoothed her clothes.
"Your avatar technique fundamentally manipulates time perception. Because you perceive three seconds inside a single second, your actions look like probabilities to ordinary observers."
"So that's the light afterimage you saw, Miro."
"That's right. The afterimages flowing along the body's boundary show events across those three seconds as probabilities. But for you, perceiving three seconds is natural, so it doesn't appear that way."
Shirone listened in a daze.
It was his individuality manifesting—a singularity that defied common sense.
"This is the final test."
Miro slowly widened the distance between them.
"From now on I'll attack you with my avatar. I'll regulate it, of course, but there may be a mental shock. If you can avoid that, you'll have grasped the basics of avatar technique."
She thought of the Thousand-Hands Kannon avatar she had shown before training began.
When all the candles in the hall were extinguished, it had moved at a speed too great to be seen.
"Yes. I'll do it."
Remembering that sight, Shirone steeled his gaze.
At the level of oneness, the heat-haze of light braided together and began reforming into angelic wings.
Radiant Archangel and Thousand-Hands Kannon.
The two Prajna avatars Miro and Shirone had manifested glared at each other from the height of the ceiling.