The merciless crossing of ice pillars kicked up white fog throughout the room, shrouding the shadow of a black cloak within a low-temperature storm.
The firing speed of the ice pillars far exceeded what Subaru had seen in the alleyway, and by his common sense, they seemed to be pitching at speeds surpassing the major leagues—the kind you'd only ever see in a video game.
Their sharpened tips would easily pierce through a human body, dyeing the transparent projectiles red with fresh blood.
And there were fully twenty of them. A direct hit meant certain death. And yet— "Did you do it!?"
"Yes, and that just triggered a bad flag—!!"
The bald one who had maintained his silence up until now chose the crucial moment to pipe up.
As if responding to Subaru's shout— "I always prepare for things like this. I hated how heavy it was, but I'm glad I wore it."
Elsa burst through the white smoke, her black hair dancing.
She wielded her kukri knife, stepping lightly, her body showing no sign of injury. She had shed the black cloak she'd been wearing, leaving only the form-fitting black outfit beneath—other than that, she looked no different from before.
"Wait—the coat itself was heavy, and ditching it makes you more agile!? That kind of development!?"
"That's an interesting way to put it, but the truth is much simpler. —My cloak was woven with a single-use enchantment to ward off magic. I nearly died there, you know."
Responding politely to Subaru's concern, Elsa leveled her blade forward from a low stance.
Standing before her was Fake
The blade shot straight toward the girl's chest, its weighted tip leading the way. Subaru nearly cried out. But before that could happen— "Don't underestimate a spirit user. When they turn against you, they're terrifying."
A multi-layered shield of ice had stopped Elsa's blade with ease.
Fake Satella stood with her hands clasped before her chest. The ice shield must have been her doing. And Elsa, her attack deflected, immediately backflipped to retreat.
Chasing after her, ice pillars—slightly smaller in size—drove into the ground in rapid succession.
That follow-up attack came from
"Division of roles between offense and defense—it's effectively a two-on-one situation."
"That's the tricky part about spirit users, see. One attacks while the other defends. Depending on the situation, one might stall with simple magic while the other unleashes the big guns... stuff like that. 'If you meet a spirit user, throw down your weapons and wallet and run'—that's the battlefield's golden rule."
Old
Subaru nodded earnestly at the explanation. Indeed, in a one-on-one situation, that kind of advantage was absolute. It wouldn't be easy to break through at all.
"By the way, what are you planning to do, old man?"
"Wait for the right moment and lend the elf girl a hand. She seems like the more reasonable one to talk to on that side."
"Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait! Don't do it! You'll definitely just get in the way! The punchline is you getting your right arm and head cut off—just stay put!"
"Don't predict my defeat in such specific detail! Why does it feel like you've really seen that happen?!"
In fact, he had seen exactly that happen twice, so the statement carried an eerie ring of truth.
Whether the otherworldly cleanness of those defeats somehow carried over, Rom clutched his arm and neck and seemed genuinely put off by the idea.
Even as this exchange continued, the battle raged on.
Subaru may have verbally stopped Old Rom from charging in, but the fact remained—the fight was ongoing with no opening to be found.
—Countless chunks of ice were conjured one after another, dancing wildly throughout the room in every direction.
They varied in size—the largest as big as a head, the smallest roughly fist-sized. Each one flew at speeds comparable to a full-power pitch, making their danger level self-evident.
And yet, within that hail of ice violence, Elsa—who had lost her magic-warding cloak—moved in ways that defied all reason.
She twisted her body, hugged the ground, and at times used even the walls as footholds, ignoring gravity entirely to evade. When she judged evasion impossible, her supple blade shattered the ice, pulverizing white crystals into mist. It was terrifying technique—compensating for sheer volume with overwhelming skill.
"She's used to fighting, huh. For a girl."
Even Puck, who was attacking, marveled at the display—a divine performance if ever there was one.
At his words, Elsa's lips curled despite being in the thick of battle.
"My, my. It's been quite a while since anyone treated me like a girl."
"Most opponents are practically babies from my perspective. But still—you're unfairly strong, you know that?"
"To be praised by a spirit—how terrifyingly generous of you."
Accepting the compliment with genuine pleasure, her humming blade swept aside the surrounding ice chunks.
The number of ice projectiles launched must have already approached a hundred, yet apart from the initial encirclement, not a single one had reached Elsa directly.
Puck held the offensive through sheer volume, but it was true that he lacked a decisive blow.
"If this keeps up, won't he run out of MP and lose?"
Imagining a reversal of offense and defense, Subaru voiced his concern about the disadvantage of a drawn-out battle.
But it was Old Rom who shook his head at that worry.
"I don't know what 'MP' or whatever is, but there's no need to worry about a spirit user running out of mana."
"No need to worry about running out of mana, you say..."
"Unlike mages, spirit users draw on mana that exists outside themselves, not within. As long as the world doesn't dry up, a spirit user never runs out of ammunition."
"Unlimited gas with the engine running nonstop. What a total cheat."
Rom seemed to have understood absolutely nothing of Subaru's answer, tilting his head in confusion.
Maintaining that angle, the old man prefaced with "However—" and continued: "How long a spirit can sustain its manifestation is a different matter entirely. Without the spirit, the tide could turn in an instant."
"Ugh—oh, right. ...Isn't it almost five o'clock!?"
In the first world, Puck had fallen asleep some time after sunset.
The battle at twilight hadn't been going on for that long, but with this much magical combat, surely the stored-up mana—or whatever it was—had been used lavishly.
Subaru's anxiety was— "Oh, this is bad. I'm getting sleepy. Actually, I've been fighting half-asleep for a little while now."
"Hey, Puck! Pull yourself together!"
"...Hah! I'm not asleep! I'm not asleep! I'm totally not asleep!"
"Aren't you guys having a really quiet and worrying conversation over there!?"
It seemed to have hit the mark.
Puck had gotten quite drowsy, and even the girl carrying the kitten on her shoulder showed a hint of panic in her expression.
"It was just getting fun, too. How cruel of you to have your mind elsewhere."
"That's the burden of being a desirable male. The girls won't let you sleep. But come on, staying up late is bad for your skin."
Elsa lightly bent her knees, poised to leap.
But before she could, Puck—perched on the girl's shoulder—gave a deft wink and spoke: "Shall we wrap this up? You must be tired of the same routine by now."
"—My foot."
The instant she stepped forward, Elsa stumbled, catching herself with her hands.
Before Subaru's eyes, stunned by her unbelievable mistake, the answer lay at her feet.
Elsa's right foot had been sewn to the frozen floor.
Shattered ice had settled lightly around it, serving as wedges to snare her foot.
"I wasn't scattering those around for nothing, nya."
"...So you got me after all?"
"Think of it as the difference in experience and accept the compliment gracefully. Goodnight."
Puck's small body, perched on the girl's shoulder, trembled slightly.
Striking a pose as if unleashing a finishing move—both hands thrust forward, the greatest concentration of mana yet gathered at their tips—Subaru could see it being channeled.
The magical force no longer took the shape of ice; it was launched as pure destructive energy.
A pale blue light froze everything in its path, turning the entire loot house white in an instant.
The energy traveled in a straight line, passing through Elsa and slamming into the entrance of the loot house, blasting the poorly fitted door off its hinges and sending the freezing shockwave beyond the walls—a truly extraordinary feat.
Where the aurora had passed, only frozen wasteland remained. The stolen goods, the furniture, the counter—all of it had been unceremoniously buried in permafrost.
Naturally, a direct hit would turn even a human into an ice sculpture.
However— "You've got to be kidding..."
"I'm not kidding. Ah, how wonderful. I almost thought I'd died."
That is, if she'd been hit directly.
"...For a girl, I really can't approve of that kind of thing."
Puck had dodged his trump card, but his words held no real anger beyond their surface tone. His voice was genuinely dissatisfied with the act itself.
—Subaru could see blood dripping, faintly steaming on the frozen floor.
The source of the blood was Elsa's right foot. It had strayed slightly from the line of the ice magic, and her bare right foot was hemorrhaging profusely.
That was only natural. After all, the sole of her right foot had been cleanly sliced off.
"I almost cut it off in a panic just now. That was a close one."
"That alone must hurt something awful."
"Yes, it does. It hurts. It's wonderful. It makes me feel alive. And besides..."
Responding to Puck's concerned words with an ecstatic gaze, Elsa lifted her bleeding foot and, without hesitation, pressed its sole against a nearby chunk of ice.
A sound like cracking atmosphere rang out. Elsa let out a low, sultry moan. The kukri knife immediately swung down, slicing across the surface of the ice chunk.
That was all it took—the crude hemostasis was complete, a piece of ice now affixed to the sole of her foot.
"It's a bit hard to move, but it'll do."
Her ice-boot clacking with hard, rhythmic steps, Elsa grinned with even greater delight.
Subaru was already beyond words at her battle addiction that didn't spare even self-inflicted injury. But the greater problem was Fake Satella, who now faced her.
"Puck, can you still go?"
"Sorry, I'm really sleepy. I underestimated them a bit. I'll vanish when my mana runs out."
Answering the girl's whisper, Puck's voice had lost its composure for the first time.
Beside the silver-haired girl, the kitten on her shoulder—its form faintly glowing, wavering as if it might vanish at any moment. Time was up.
"I'll handle things from here, so rest now. Thank you."
"If anything happens to you, I'll follow the contract. —If it comes to that, drain every last drop of your od and summon me."
As if pushed by Fake Satella's tender words, Puck's body suddenly dissolved into mist and vanished.
Everyone in the room regretted his departure, but the one who visibly slumped the most was— "Oh, he's disappearing. That's terribly, terribly unfortunate."
None other than Elsa herself, who had been playing at a life-or-death struggle.
Re-gripping her kukri knife, Elsa strode toward Fake Satella with tall, clacking footsteps.
Facing her, ice pillars materialized around Fake Satella in response—though far fewer than Puck had launched.
Even with Elsa's reduced mobility, the odds had been pulled back to fifty-fifty.
"Guess I can't just stand around and watch anymore."
Perhaps sensing the unfavorable situation, Old Rom gripped his club and hefted his heavy frame.
Receiving Subaru's silent gaze, he shrugged and said: "I don't know what the odds are without reinforcements. But standing here doing nothing would just mean missing the window. ...You understand, don't you,
"I get it already. Whether we run or fight, we've gotta move soon."
Felt—who hadn't said a single word since Elsa's initial threat.
She took her position beside Old Rom, who appeared to have finished preparing for battle, and happened to glance toward Subaru.
"That thing back there... I felt a little saved."
"—Huh?"
"Just a little. Also, don't call me a kid. I'm fifteen, you know. Almost the same as my big brother."
"...I'm eighteen this year. I could even get married if I had a car."
"Can't even tell! Your face is way too babyish. Put some more life experience into that mug of yours."
A shut-in with a life that had been remarkably free of dramatic ups and downs.
Then again, the current situation seemed to have more than its fair share of drama.
As the two steeled themselves and watched the battle unfold, Subaru could only look on.
He was probably the least combat-capable person here. If combat ability were the only thing missing, that would be one thing, but— "My legs are shaking too much to move. ...And my resolve isn't even enough."
Before the question of qualification, Subaru simply couldn't participate in this fight.
Old Rom fought with physical strength, Felt with leg speed, and Fake Satella with her magic. But Elsa's abnormality surpassed all of that combined.
Indeed— "She's starting to push."
Old Rom's concise observation said it all.
The ice barrage continued without cease, but every single shot was shattered before Elsa's sword dance, never reaching her.
Elsa advanced with dancing slashes; Fake Satella's ice shields—deployed in the gaps between attacks—blocked them, while follow-up strikes were evaded by a hair's breadth through freezing the ground beneath her feet for an ice-skating slide.
When the distance widened, the barrage once again shifted the offense-defense balance—but it was clear that trick wouldn't work forever against an opponent like her.
If those fangs closed in again, Subaru would once again witness the sight he didn't want to see.
"Here I go—!"
Having likely imagined the same thing as Subaru, Old Rom let out a battle cry and joined the front line.
His raised club, wreathed in a fierce wind, swung down—even as Elsa ducked under it, the swing caught the tips of her hair, broadening the scope of the battle.
"How rude, barging into someone's dance like that."
"If you want to dance so badly, then I'll make you dance the dance of your life! Now—writhe and squirm!"
She thrust forward a thorned club—a shift in attack range from line to point.
The opportunistic, spur-of-the-moment strike aimed straight for Elsa's throat, and the result froze Old Rom's own.
"What in the—!!"
"Because you're so strong, I was able to do this."
There—Elsa had lightly set her toes on the tip of the thrust-out club.
It was a balancing act that required a divine sense of equilibrium, a feat of acrobatics only possible through the delicate interplay of forces. But before that exquisite balance could break, Elsa's blade swept horizontally.
The height was at Old Rom's temple—a direct hit would blow his head clean off.
"Not on my watch—!"
The clang of a horizontal slash being deflected came from a small, thrown knife.
The impact from below slightly disrupted the blade's arc, and the flat of the blade struck the massive head at high speed. The dull sound of steel meeting bone rang out, and Old Rom's body was knocked sideways.
"Bad girl."
"—Ow."
Landing lightly and turning only her gaze, Elsa looked at Felt.
The small knife that had saved Old Rom from the killing blow was Felt's. She'd probably been aiming for the arm, but the impromptu nature of the throw had made her aim sloppy.
In fact, it was precisely that inaccuracy that had managed to save Old Rom's life this time.
"You have no resolve, no strength to fight. If that's the case, you should have stayed small in the corner of the room."
The footfall rang high and sharp, and Elsa's black shadow glided to Felt's position in an instant.
Old Rom had been knocked unconscious by the head blow. Fake Satella had kept her distance, which now worked against her—she was too far away. And Felt was frozen like a rabbit caught by a snake, unable to move.
"Hyaaaah—!!"
The only one who managed to scoop up her small body and leap away in that split second was Bibi, who had been cowering right beside her.