Caesar reloaded his magazines while Mai grabbed her Glock. They both adjusted their weapons, chambered a round in unison, and then looked up at each other.
Caesar spread his arms like wings. “Cassell College, Caesar Gattuso. In Japanese terms, I have arrived.”
“What year are you?” Mai suddenly asked.
Caesar was taken aback. “Third year.”
“Oh, Tokyo University, Music Department, Sakatoku Mai. Recipient of the mayor’s scholarship, graduated two years ago. Here I am.” Mai’s crimson eyebrows arched. “Third year? Your face already says ‘I think I’m cool,’ but to me, you’re still just a junior. If you surrender now and call me ‘senpai,’ I’ll let you off the hook.”
Caesar stayed silent, his icy blue eyes flashing with chilling anger.
“Looks like you’re not someone with much sense of humor.” Mai shrugged, spinning around, her long sideburns and hair clasps flying.
“Alright.” Mai crouched down, suddenly going completely still.
“Norma, lights off,” Caesar snapped his fingers.
“Five-second countdown.” Norma’s voice echoed in the Hall of the Heroes. The crystal chandelier flickered on and off at a steady one-second interval.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1… darkness!
In that instant, Caesar pushed his Yanling: Kamaitachi to the limit, fully expanding his domain. He issued a command, and the “Kamaitachi” began to whirl violently in the air. The sound waves rushing towards him surged like an overwhelming tide—from the sound of sparks at the moment of blackout to the infrasound created as wind passed through Sakatoku Mai’s hair—all amplified hundreds or thousands of times, making it feel like Caesar was standing amid thunderclouds.
Within the Kamaitachi domain, he was invincible—unless the opponent’s attack could surpass the speed of sound.
Caesar trembled slightly, pointing his Desert Eagle forward without firing. Among the sounds captured by Kamaitachi, there was an unexpected anomaly, like wind passing through a flute. There were two sounds, like two wind spirits swirling through the air.
Sakatoku Mai’s two silver hair clasps! The moment Caesar realized this, the sound suddenly changed—turning cold and shrill, like a ghost’s wail. And Mai’s heartbeat, as if cut off by those two sounds, dispersed into the air.
This was the first time Caesar had encountered something like this. Kamaitachi had lost track of the target!
Church. There was a knock at the door.
“Please come in.” In the confessional, Chu Zihang slowly raised his head and said.
Someone pushed the door open and closed it again, the sound of footsteps echoing through the church—a steady, monotonous rhythm. The person finally stopped at the center of the church. Chu Zihang opened the door of the confessional.
The two of them sized each other up. Chu Zihang was in his school uniform, all the buttons undone, holding the Murasame. His black hair was not tied up, hanging messily over his face. The intruder was entirely clad in black combat gear, including their head and face, but it was evident that it was a girl, standing only about 1.6 meters tall. Her posture—arms straight down by her sides, head slightly bowed—made her look like a studious, uninteresting bookworm.
The two opponents seemed reluctant to break the silence. Perhaps it was due to their personalities; it was far less dynamic than what was happening at the Hall of Heroes—practically tedious to the extreme.
Chu Zihang coughed slightly. “Are you the Three No girl?”
“Mai said that? Then I suppose so.” The deadpan girl accepted her label.
Chu Zihang closed his phone and placed it beside him. “Caesar kept his phone on, so I know what’s happening over there.”
“Even while fighting, you’re not completely hostile towards each other, huh? Is it over yet?”
“There were continuous gunshots. It seems that both sides have won one round each. Now only the two of them are still standing. The rest are unknown.”
“Oh.” The deadpan girl paused. “I’m your opponent.”
“I know.”
The deadpan girl stared into Chu Zihang’s face. The wind lifted his hair, revealing his terrifying golden eyes. “Did you choose to stay behind to face the enemy alone because you didn’t want others to see you like this?”
“Yes.”
“Does someone like you ever feel conflicted about being alive in this world?”
“Not really.”
Another long silence fell. Neither of them was good at speaking, and each new topic required great effort.
“What are they… doing? Is this the worst conversation ever?” Manstein nervously swallowed.
In the library’s control room, Schneider, Guderian, and Manstein were listening to what was happening in the church, frowning at the conversation.
“We are a strictly disciplined college; our students should have a sense of duty!” Manstein said, frustrated. “But look at our elites—what are they doing? Caesar Gattuso, the student council president, playing a cowboy game to see who draws faster—is he trying to impress that long-legged woman? And Chu Zihang, the Lionheart Society president, is chatting with the enemy! We can’t wait any longer. We should reinforce them and end the battle quickly!”
“I understand what Caesar and Chu Zihang are doing,” Schneider said. “They are trying to understand the enemy.”
“Do we need to waste time understanding the enemy at this point? The other side must have dragon blood, otherwise, there’s no way they could confront these two directly,” Manstein said. “The bloodline advantages are evenly matched—we can’t take risks!”
“No,” Schneider shook his head, “did you notice? In both the Hall of Heroes and the church, the enemies were not in a hurry.”
“They’re buying time!” Guderian understood.