Chapter 125: Embracing the Light of Ambition — Part 11
The pure-white divine blade swings, and its edge—brimming with colossal destructive power—gouges into the black wolf's flank. Yet even after weathering countless blows, Lycagon does not fall. The gaping wound seals itself in the blink of an eye; to all appearances, it hasn't taken a scratch.
But I know better—we've been fighting this thing too long not to see it. Our attacks are draining Lycagon's resources. The number of clones it spawns has dropped to just one, and those area-wide shadow-lance barrages have thinned out to almost nothing. Is there a hard cap on the shadow it can wield per encounter, or is something else at play? Pinning that down would take a full strategy guide, and we're fresh out of those.
Sunraku: "How many left?!"
Psyger-0: "One more...!"
Lycagon's claws smash a log to splinters, and from behind, a Mana Shaker disrupts its hind leg. The wolf glares with pure venom at Emul, perched on my head, but the more it fixates on us, the more openings Rei gets. We've upgraded from a wire-rope tightrope walk to something closer to a tug-of-war cable—still precarious, but steadier. Problems are piling up, though.
Akitsu Akane: "Sorry! Utsusemi's tapped out!"
Sunraku: "Got it, fall back!"
The Blade-Hidden Arts she uses are fueled by a consumable called "Substitution Logs," and since she sure as hell hadn't planned on fighting Lycagon today, her inventory's run dry.
A line of text flickers at the edge of my vision: Operating limit — one minute remaining. The Non-Standard Ether Reactor is, tragically, rechargeable. Suzaku's flight time has a hard deadline, and it's breathing down my neck.
And it's not just Rei—my own focus is fraying at the edges too.
(One more hit to meet Rei's trump-card condition... When do I play my own cards? Now, or later?)
Two minutes left. Suzaku's given us everything, but of fucking course, a massive cloud bank is about to swallow the moon's path in just a few more minutes. Once those invisible clones come back online, surviving them is a coin toss.
Impatience gnaws at me. At this point, I've more or less read every move Lycagon's got. But this is the kind of game where snakes hurl shit at you—you never know what random flag triggers some bullshit special action. I can't take that final step onto the offensive.
Sunraku: "Rei! Next attack—!"
Psyger-0: "Give me one minute!"
Suzaku's clock is ticking. My head's a mess of overlapping mental timers, and I'm one slip away from losing track of which skills are on cooldown and which need firing now.
Lycagon, arrogant bastard that it is, reads my trajectory and snaps its jaws at where I'm supposed to land in a few seconds. I stomp the air, forcing my path sideways to slip out of its maw. Good—Flit Float's cooldown starts now.
Sunraku: "What's the play...? From what I heard, Rei's trump card needs the target immobilized, otherwise it's a nightmare to land..."
I don't have any binding skills, and Emul's Magic Chain lacks the raw force to truly restrain. That leaves stagger—the one universal constant that forcibly halts every Mob's actions. Only way to stop Lycagon. And the perfect moment to play my own trump card... but here's the thing. My hidden ace is just as hard to land without the target frozen in place. Not impossible, but a colossal pain in the ass.
Sunraku: "How do I land it...? During a wide-area attack? A normal strike? While it's spawning clones...?"
Just hitting isn't enough. I have to corral it into Rei's kill range and trigger a stagger simultaneously—which means managing stagger thresholds while controlling positioning, all while landing the hit. Talk about a brutal difficulty spike. A dry laugh escapes my lips.
Sunraku: "Pull aggro, bunch everyone together... no, if it spawns a clone, we're fucked. Gotta hit at the exact moment its attack starts. How do I force a predictable action—one where the main body commits to the kill...? Fuck."
Lycagon unloads a relentless flurry of foreleg punches—about as cute as a brick and with even less charm. I stay just outside the shockwave radius of each ground-slam, dancing through the steps. At this point, it's less backstep and more backpedal sprint, but I keep the gap tight, closing to point-blank the instant its combo ends. I land hits here and there, but unless it's a "valid strike" from Emul, I can't wrestle Lycagon's aggro away. The priority isn't damage numbers—it's whether the attack truly connects with the thing. That's why, when SF-Zoo fought it, Lycagon ignored their tanks and tore into their back line. From its perspective, tanks were just tough lumps. The rear-guard who actually managed to restrain it? Way more annoying.
Sunraku: "Such a half-assed reason, and yet it's disgustingly effective."
It surgically targets the real threats. A monster pulling player-level ruthless tactics. The concept's easy to put into words, but executed? It's a shit-tier boss. If this weren't endgame content—a Unique Monster—it'd be balance-breaking garbage.
Suzaku's got ninety seconds. The fight won't end there, but the return of invisible clones sure as hell won't improve anything.
Sunraku: "Uh, so I just... talk normally to give orders, right...?"
Emul: "Who are you talking to... wa?"
Sunraku: "The bird in the sky."
Emul: "Sunraku-san... your head is, well..."
I will shake you off, you little shit. She's gotten way too casual about dropping those snide remarks. Wonder who she picked that up from... Probably caught something nasty from Oikatzo or Pencilgon. Yeah.
Sunraku: "Listen up, Suzaku. One last job before bed. On my signal..."
This is the critical moment.
I relay my orders to Suzaku, finish a brief strategy huddle with the others, and swap Togetsu for Gilta Brille.
Sunraku: "Emul, time it with me!"
Emul: "Hai na!"
Akitsu Akane: "Sunraku-san, we're ready!"
Sunraku: "Alright... Come on, Lycagon!"
No room for error. Absolute precision... three, two, one—now. Energy surges from my hip twist into centrifugal force, and a backfist—frame-tuned between tension and release—slams into Lycagon's foreleg. A parry, striking the split-second "slack" just before the limb fully powers up—a leg that could tear a human head clean off. The opening lasts less than five seconds. Into that gap, the jet-black knight drives her body and blade.
Psyger-0: "Catastrophe...!"
The greatsword slams into Lycagon's jaw, tearing through its right eye. The wolf staggers—its face snaps back, and the wounded eye flickers with a momentary, unpainted clay-doll emptiness before it seals shut again. Not a single drop of blood spills. The golden gaze reignites.
Psyger-0: "Condition met...!"
Sunraku: "Fire it immediately!"
Psyger-0: "Yes!"
The real fight starts here. Me, Emul, and Suzaku—we're going to lock this bastard down.
Sunraku: "Now, Suzaku!"
Suzaku (machine voice): "Acknowledged. Activating Incinerate: Magic Blade Slasher."
The mechanical Suzaku plummets as a scorching meteor. Every last reserve of output is scraped together; from its belly, a long physical blade deploys, and its wings drive it on a dead-straight trajectory, its crimson tail feathers roaring as they sear the atmosphere. Gravity-assisted acceleration—Suzaku's target is Lycagon's hind leg. As long as it retains a biological form, mobility hinges on those legs. Pierce them, and the wolf is pinned. Naturally, Lycagon notices the blazing bird screaming down on it—there's no missing that. It draws power into the targeted hind leg, aiming to kick and intercept—
Sunraku: "Too bad, Lycagon."
Think of it less like poker and more like a TCG. I'm pushing through with a barrage of trump cards.
Sunraku: "Exceed Charge!"
Emul: "Mana Shaker!"
Psyger-0: "I am the one who pulls the strings of chaos...!"
Once you crack the aggro logic, strategies write themselves. An AI's threat-priority update—a sudden spike of danger—creates the same opening as a stagger.
First: I, standing dead ahead, play my trump card. Second: Emul, waiting diagonally behind, attacks the leg. Third: Rei, positioned at my rear, begins her own ultimate skill's activation. Four simultaneous threats. Even if you see them coming, there's nothing you can do—that's why they call it "checkmate." Your wide-area attack won't make it in time now. Shut one down, and another card still hits. So you've got exactly one move right now.
Sunraku: "RNG is such bullshit."
Of fucking course—the moonlight dims right now. The clone melts into the night, unseen. All four cards are already in play. We've got no answer for the clone, and if she can't pull something off... we're done.
Sunraku: "I'm counting on you... Akitsu Akane!"