"The signing is complete," the figure declared.
"…"
Deep beneath the ancient cathedral, in a vast, hollow chamber, stood an Arius student and a sinister double-headed wooden puppet. Dressed in a pristine tuxedo, the puppet adjusted its collar with glossy, cold fingertips, exuding an air of refined menace.
"A wooden puppet that talks?" an Arius student blurted, unable to hold back her surprise.
"—How uncouth," the puppet replied, its voice suddenly laced with irritation and authority, the kind of chilling gravitas only an adult could wield.
"If you must address me, do so with reverence for art. Call me Maestro," it demanded.
"…"
The puppet was a member of Gematria, a self-proclaimed artist among their ranks. With the creaking grind of wood rubbing against wood, Maestro spoke with the cadence of a grand aria.
"Hmm, perhaps the essence of art is still beyond your grasp? A pity. Meaningful discourse requires intellect, refinement, experience, and conviction. Come to me with those, students of Kivotos, and do not disappoint."
To Maestro, the Arius students were unworthy of true conversation—mere pebbles, though with potential to be polished into diamonds.
"Ordinarily, I'd find it distasteful to lend my hand to such matters," Maestro continued. "Yet the prospect of replicating the majesty of the Guardians, their mimesis, piqued my interest. Thus, I shall aid you this once, in deference to that curiosity. Witnessing the Royal Blood's covenant in action—a privilege indeed. Thanks to this, my experiments draw ever closer to the sublime."
"…"
The Arius student before him, Atsuko, nodded silently. Her role was clear: to enact the covenant under the name of Royal Blood in this very place, forcing a signing ceremony that was never meant to occur.
Centuries ago, the Guardians of the Covenant reclaimed their power. Now, to punish those who defied it, they took up arms and began their march—an invincible, immortal army forged through Arius's contract.
"Truth be told, my interest lies solely with Shalle's Sensei," Maestro said.
"…"
"A perfected physique, superhuman strength, pure and guileless eyes… everything about him is magnificent!"
"…" Atsuko subtly shifted her stance.
"To see my creations destroyed would normally be intolerable, but this time? It's different. If I can witness his power, that's enough. I've prepared it for that very purpose. I must know the secret of his physique—why he was born with such strength!"
Laughing, Maestro passed by Atsuko. Having heard of Mash from the Black Suit and seen footage of his feats, Maestro saw artistic value in his power and body. That was why he'd agreed to aid Beatrice.
"Hmm, perhaps this explanation bores you? Very well, as promised, guide me to the doctrine hidden in these depths," Maestro said.
"…"
"An immortal army won't fall so easily, but if I can witness his strength, that's all that matters."
Their destination was a dim, secret passage. Watching Atsuko's back as she led the way, Maestro took a deliberate step forward, his wooden heads swaying.
"Now, let us go—to the farthest reaches of my art…"
CRUNCH!
The air echoed with the sound of destruction, blows too brutal to come from a mere human. Mash obliterated the oncoming Apostles with single strikes, unfazed by their relentless assault.
(What is he?! Misaki thought, reeling.)
"If my opponent's a student, I'd hesitate, hold back," Mash said. "But you Apostles? You're different. I can go all out."
With cold precision, Mash unleashed a flurry of punches—face, gut, ribs. There was no mercy, only the raw intent to break. It was as if he were dismantling objects, not fighting living beings.
"That's our Sensei!" a mob student cheered.
"A divine strike… Kivotos is truly saved by him!" another exclaimed.
But Tsurugi and the main Trinity forces sensed something off. Mash was different—his usual warmth replaced by an unsettling edge.
"Were Sensei's attacks always that sharp?" Ichika muttered.
"It's like… there's no hesitation," another said.
"Almost like… an incarnation of violence," Sakurako added softly.
"Is Sensei… angry?" someone ventured.
"Even if he is, this is…" Ichika trailed off, glancing at Tsurugi.
Tsurugi studied Mash's movements, comparing them to their past sparring sessions. (He's not even trying to dodge the Apostles' attacks. His strikes are too forceful. Normally, his moves have structure, purpose… but now? It's just raw power, swinging wildly.)
There was no hesitation—beyond that, no trace of kindness. Mash's attacks were a mass of pure, unfeeling violence. As the Apostles dwindled to a handful, he turned to Misaki.
"Still want to keep going?" he asked.
"!" Misaki raised her launcher, but Mash closed the distance in an instant, snatching it from her hands and flicking her forehead with a dekopin.
"Ow…!" she yelped, wincing.
"Still going?" Mash repeated.
He let the launcher clatter to the ground, stepping closer. Misaki, unnoticed, palmed a knife designed specifically for Sensei.
"…"
"I want to help you all," Mash said softly. "Please, no more—"
As he reached out, Misaki swung the knife at his shoulder. It barely pierced his skin—a minor scratch.
"What are you?!" Misaki shouted, exasperated.
"Please, stop," Mash urged.
"Shut up! I hate people like you the most!" she spat. "You don't understand pain, or suffering, or what it really means. You've lived in some cozy, warm little world—you're the last person I want 'help' from!"
"…"
Maintaining distance, Misaki aimed the knife at Mash's heart. As he moved, she pressed a small red button, firing the blade. It struck—yet left not a single mark on Mash's body.
"Your body's so tough… I'm jealous," Misaki muttered.
"It's inconvenient sometimes," Mash said lightly.
"…"
As Misaki contemplated detonating a bomb to take Mash down with her, a bell tolled—a heavy, anguished sound she'd never heard before.
"…A bell?" Mash said.
"The signal… I failed again," Misaki murmured.
"!"
Misaki detonated her hidden bomb in midair, grabbing her missile launcher and fleeing. Mash couldn't let her escape—not if it meant delaying her salvation.
"Sensei!" Ichika called.
"It's a trap, no doubt!" another warned.
"Tsurugi-san, go with Sensei!" Sakurako urged.
"But leaving you all here—" Tsurugi hesitated.
"There's only a few left. We can handle it," Sakurako said. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"
"…Sorry," Tsurugi said, sprinting after Mash.
As Mash, Tsurugi, and Misaki vanished from the scene, the Justina Apostles reappeared, stepping silently into view.
"…Sakurako-sama," a Trinity member said.
"No need to say it—I understand," Sakurako replied. "I'll take command here. Until Tsurugi-san and Sensei return, we hold the line at all costs!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
The battle with the Apostles reignited. At the same moment—
"Hiiiyaaaa!" Hiyori screamed, fleeing from Hina.
"Wait!" Hina shouted, pursuing her.
The bell's toll spurred Hiyori to race toward its source, knowing it was a trap but unable to let the chance slip. Hina chased, Destroyer in hand.
"—!"
"Buy time…!" Hiyori gasped.
"What are you—get out of my way!" Hina snapped.
The Justina Apostles appeared again, over sixty strong, determined to block Hina's path. Their intent was clear: keep her from joining Mash and Tsurugi.
"Stay out of my way!" Hina roared, engaging them in combat.
The Apostles' interference bought precious time, preventing Hina from regrouping with the others.
"Come, Mash Burnedead… this will be your grave," Saori muttered, alone, stroking the massive coffin as the bell's echo faded.
-------------------------------
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