"Extre?"
"Lord God…"
"Is… is Tsukuyo's talent that poor?"
At Hair's aningful remark, Inaba Tsukuyo—still lying face-down on the bed—had her delicate ears twitch slightly.
Though her expression could not be seen, her body stiffened for a brief mont.
After all.
This body of hers…
Had been declared a lost cause by doctors since childhood.
Blind in both eyes. Frail and sickly.
Aside from her swordsmanship, she possessed nothing.
If even that final talent were denied by a god, then she truly would lose any reason to exist.
"No, Tsukuyo."
"You misunderstand."
Hair shook his head and gently placed his hand on the girl's still-trembling shoulder.
"On the contrary."
"It would be more accurate to say…"
"Your talent is absurdly strong."
With that, Hair rose from the bedside.
He casually picked up the fallen night robe and draped it back over the girl's snow-white yet slender back.
Inaba Tsukuyo hurriedly pulled it on again, fumbling as she tightened the collar. The blush on her cheeks had yet to fade. Though her crimson eyes were sightless, they turned toward Hair, filled with disbelief.
"'Extre' is not a derogatory term."
"In a life-and-death struggle…"
"What determines victory is rarely your shortest plank."
"It is your longest blade."
"As long as your blade is fast enough—fast enough to sever the enemy's throat before they can strike your weakness—"
"Then that weakness ceases to be a flaw."
"It becos a forbidden zone the enemy can never reach."
"For example, your skill [Child of Calamity] grants you perception and initiative far beyond ordinary people."
"That ans before the battle even begins, you've already won half of it."
"And [Montary Splendor]…"
"Gives you the possibility of unleashing power beyond your current level's limits in an instant."
"That ans…"
"Even if you are a fragile Lv.1 right now—"
"As long as you are given a single opportunity…"
"Even a fleeting opening…"
"You could cut down an enemy several levels above you."
"That potential to defeat the strong as the weak—"
"Is the shortest path toward achieving a Great Feat."
In Orario, challenging opponents above one's level is the most efficient way to obtain a Great Feat.
A one-strike-kill type like Inaba Tsukuyo was practically born to harvest them.
It was like a ga.
While others slowly chipped away at health bars with normal attacks—
She activated her ultimate and ended it in a single blow.
Though she possessed only one decisive strike.
If that strike landed—
Even gods would fall.
"The so-called 'One-Blade Asura' probably refers to soone like you."
"So."
"Have confidence."
"Do not belittle yourself."
"You are the sharpest, most extre blade."
"A sword born to sever fate itself."
"If your body is frail, then simply ensure the enemy never touches you."
"That is the Asura path of the one-hit kill."
After speaking, Hair reached out and gently ruffled Inaba Tsukuyo's silver-white hair.
"Mm…"
"Is… is that so…"
Feeling the warmth of his fingers against her head—and hearing words filled with affirmation—Inaba Tsukuyo let out a small, kitten-like whimper.
Her once-taut body relaxed at once.
Her cheeks flushed even deeper.
Like a boiled shrimp.
Not only because of the praise that struck directly at her heart.
But also because of the warmth at the crown of her head.
Being patted like a child.
For soone forced to mature far too early, it was an experience she had never known.
She did not dislike it.
In fact…
She found herself reluctant to let it end.
"Yes… yes, Lord God!"
"Tsukuyo understands."
Her voice was soft as a mosquito's buzz. Lowering her head, she gently nuzzled Hair's palm like a pampered kitten.
Then, flustered like a startled rabbit, she retreated to the corner of the bed, face red.
After all.
Being praised made her happy.
But having her bare back observed for so long was still far too stimulating for a sheltered young lady.
anwhile.
With Inaba Tsukuyo's dazzling example set before them, the atmosphere in the room turned subtle once more.
For a warrior—
What could be more intoxicating than seeing one's quantified future filled with limitless possibilities?
The girls' gazes began darting between one another.
Sparks flickered in their eyes.
"If everyone is being so modest…"
"Then little Satori won't stand on ceremony~"
"Little Satori would like to be second."
Nomura Satori spoke as she stepped toward Hair's bed.
However—
Before she could take more than a single step—
"Whoosh—"
A gust of wind swept past her.
A tall figure leapt ahead, planting herself between her and Hair like a wall.
It was Amou Kirukiru.
"Eh?"
Nomura Satori tilted her head, her usual fake smile stiffening briefly.
"Amou-san, cutting in line isn't a good habit, you know?"
"Cutting in line?"
"This isn't about first co, first served."
"If you don't even have that level of resolve, how can you claim to pursue strength?"
With that, Amou Kirukiru turned directly toward Hair.
Not a word of unnecessary chatter.
Not even a mont of psychological preparation like Inaba Tsukuyo.
"Rustle—"
She grabbed the collar of her robe.
And pulled.
With the sound of fabric sliding free, the loose garnt was tossed aside onto a nearby chair.
"Ah—!"
"W-What are you doing?!"
"T-That's far too shaless!"
Kikakujou Mary cried out in shock, hurriedly covering her eyes.
Onigawara Rin stood frozen, mouth agape.
Even Inaba Tsukuyo, curled in the corner, instinctively lifted her head. Though she could not see, her heightened senses told her exactly what had happened.
"Geez…"
"Little Satori even raised her hand."
Nomura Satori puffed her cheeks and stepped back reluctantly.
What now stood before Hair—
Was a body that could only be described as perfect.
If Inaba Tsukuyo was a delicate porcelain doll—
Then Amou Kirukiru was tempered steel forged through countless hamr blows.
Ivory-white.
Every line of muscle sleek and firm, brimming with explosive power.
A wild, predatory beauty.
The physique of soone who had pushed ancient martial arts to their limit.
Like a masterwork blade polished to a chilling gleam.
Even standing still, she radiated sharpness.
This was the path of becoming a blade.
Taking the fragile human body—
And through relentless, near-masochistic refinent—
Forging it into a weapon harder than steel.
Compared to the stunned gazes around them, Hair rely looked at the utterly unreserved girl with mild helplessness.
The view was indeed impressive.
But her style was a bit too wild.
"I say…"
"I know you're eager."
"But could you at least be mindful of appearances?"
He pointed toward Hanasaka Warabi, who was curled in the corner hugging a black bear and covering her face.
"There are children here."
"Don't set a bad example."
"Ha?!"
Hanasaka Warabi, who had been peeking through her fingers, imdiately exploded.
"W-Who are you calling a child?!"
"I'm already an adult, okay?!"
"I even have a motorcycle license! I have a motorcycle license!"
She fud, desperately defending her questionable height.
No one paid her any attention.
Amou Kirukiru didn't even spare her a glance.
She rely lifted her chin slightly.
"That sort of trivial matter doesn't concern ."
"Sooner or later, we will belong to your Familia."
"Since I've already decided to dedicate both body and mind to you, my god—"
"This level of honesty is only a matter of ti."
Without the slightest hesitation, she placed her hands on the bed and flipped herself up smoothly before lying face-down.
Her long, ink-black hair spilled over her shoulders and spread across the white sheets.
Resting her chin on her arm, she turned her head and smiled at Hair.
"Co, God."
"Let see…"
"Whether this body I forged to climb to the summit is worthy of astonishing you."
This was a lion.
It required no comfort.
No encouragent.
Give it a direction—
And it would leap without hesitation.
____
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