“I won’t ‘spit it out,’ because I’m not the impostor,” insisted Adlet.
“Ya don’t need to hesitate here. I get it. Ya got yerself a little sob story to explain why, don’t ya? Ya need medicine for yer ailin’ mama? Yer cute little gal got taken hostage?”
“I have no family. I have no lover. I’ll say it as many times as you’d like. I’m not the impostor.”
“Well then, there’ll be nobody left to grieve when yer dead.” Hans’s sword nicked Adlet’s skin.
As it did, Adlet made his move. He hadn’t exhausted all his secret weapons just yet. A single thread was woven through Adlet’s sleeve. He grabbed it with his fingers and pulled. Instantly, one of the pouches at his waist exploded with a bang, and yellow smoke enveloped them.
“Nghmrow!” With a cry, Hans pressed his hands against his eyes. This wasn’t a mere smoke bomb; it was tear gas that worked equally well against fiends and humans alike.
“Shit! You made me use it, you stupid ass! This hurts so—agh!” Adlet had taken the hit at point-blank range, so the tear gas had affected him far worse. But still, he had escaped Hans’s grasp. Adlet turned from Hans and tried to run away, but with his eyes stinging so badly he couldn’t see straight, he ran face first into a pillar of salt.
“Mya-mya-mya! Just how stubborn do ya gotta be?!”
“As stubborn as it takes for me to get away, duh!”
As both Braves rubbed their weeping eyes, they fought. Adlet had used his trump card and had only a few of his secret tools left. He knew he couldn’t beat Hans. And at the very least, it was highly unlikely he could get away from him in a head-on situation, either. He couldn’t flee unless he caught Hans off guard with some kind of inspired plan.
Hans could barely see a thing, but his attacks were still extremely fierce. His swords struck at Adlet’s feet, from above, from every direction, as he stuck to Adlet as if they were dancing together.
“Stupid genius,” Adlet muttered.
Hans was unmistakably brilliant. His talent was one in a hundred thousand, or maybe one in a million, or perhaps he was the only one of his kind in the world. How could he wield such fighting technique otherwise? Adlet wasn’t like that. He was ordinary. Hopelessly ordinary. But Adlet thought, Just who decided an ordinary man couldn’t become the strongest in the world?
“I’m not lettin’ ya get away meow!” Hans somersaulted forward in the air. Adlet couldn’t predict what kind of attack was coming. He doubled his guard against the strike from above by blocking with both sword and scabbard. Hans landed, and with a cartwheel, he struck simultaneously with both swords and a kick. While Adlet was busy blocking the swords, the kick slammed into his stomach.
“Ha! That didn’t work at all!” Adlet yelled, even as he felt like he might puke.
The man who’d taught Adlet to fight had never held back. It was by going through hell that Adlet had become strong. He’d trained his body, practiced his sword, and learned all there was to learn about his master’s secret tools. But the more he had trained, the more keenly he’d felt that there was an insurmountable wall between the mundane and the genius.
“Over here!” Adlet taunted, and the moment Hans leaped, Adlet threw his final smoke bomb on the ground, dove underneath Hans, and ran.
All of Adlet’s training had enabled him to somehow manage to block Hans’s attacks—but he couldn’t go on the offensive. An ordinary person couldn’t surpass a prodigy. However, even if he wasn’t as powerful as Hans, he could still win. He could beat a genius, though he lacked innate talent himself. Believing that had allowed Adlet to come this far.
Adlet’s breath was ragged. Their fight had dragged on for a long time. Adlet had used up most of the tools on his belt. Hans was barely scraped, while Adlet’s body was covered in wounds. Even so, Adlet could see the faintest signs of fatigue in his opponent. Hans’s attacks were growing just a little bit less aggressive. Adlet had been waiting for this—the momentary lapse in his assault. Adlet removed one of the belts from which his various pouches hung and threw it away. Confused, Hans stopped. While Hans hesitated, Adlet quickly whipped off the second, third, and then fourth, tossing them all away. The belts fell to the ground between the two warriors.
“…” For the first time, Hans looked leery. He was not so simple a man as to think he was at an advantage because Adlet had thrown away his tools. “Hey…what’re ya doin’?”
“Come at me,” said Adlet. “I don’t need any more tools. I can beat you fair and square.”
“This is some kinda ruse.”
“Yes, it is,” Adlet acknowledged readily. Hans was overwhelmingly his superior when it came to swordplay. It would be crazy for him not to assume it was a trap.
“Meow…” Hans groaned. He seemed at a loss as to how to continue. It was curious. Hans had been utterly dominating the match thus far, and now that Adlet had thrown away his tools, he was at an even greater advantage. But despite that, Hans was unable to move.
The truth was, if Hans were to charge him without a single thought, Adlet would have been unable to do a thing. But Adlet was convinced that Hans wouldn’t attack. Hans was sharp. And it was that sharpness that immobilized him. Even if Hans realized that the trap was the pretense that there was a trap, he couldn’t attack.
“What’s wrong, Hans? You scared?” taunted Adlet.
“Yeah, I’m scared,” said Hans. “I can’t fool ya there.”
“You’re honest.”
“I do kill people, but I don’t lie. Lyin’ ain’t good.”
Adlet thought about it. In this situation, defeating Hans wouldn’t spell victory. Victory for Adlet was clearing his name and finding the seventh.
