Chapter 87: Can You Withstand This Blast Of Thirty Years' Worth Of Power?
Rosemary's specially brewed Mist Blending Potion could alleviate patients' discomfort through nearly imperceptible breaths.
But what if the recipient wasn't a patient, and the potion wasn't meant for healing?
"What, did you really think I enjoy wasting words chatting with you this long? It seems surviving death has somewhat dulled your vigilance, Miss Performer."
Not just Phrolova, but everyone relying on Resonance Power for combat on the field was suppressed to varying degrees.
Except for Aeron.
"Cough... cough... What have you done..."
Carlotta knelt on one knee, her crystalline spear already shattered and dissipated. The medicinal mist affected her most severely as she had been operating her Resonance Power at full capacity.
"One must always keep some trump cards. How else could we deal with opponents of this caliber?"
"....."
Carlotta looked up to see Aeron pressing his only remaining right hand on her shoulder, his expression unusually relaxed.
"You've worked hard, Second Young Lady. Leave the rest to me."
Carlotta abruptly grabbed his wrist, her fingertips turning white from the force.
"Leave it to you? What can you possibly do in this state?! Are you planning to go alone again... cough..."
"Roccia." Aeron turned and called, "Take the Second Young Lady and the troupe members to rest first. Leave this to me and the Ro... Rover."
"Understood."
Roccia approached Carlotta with a case, attempting to help her up.
"Wait, you—"
Despite her unstable breathing due to the potion's effects, Carlotta stubbornly tried to stand up, her eyes fixed intently on Aeron.
But what she received in return was Aeron's icy gaze and words:
"Don't get in the way here."
Carlotta's face instantly turned deathly pale. Her body swayed, nearly collapsing.
"What... do you mean..."
"Exactly what I said."
Carlotta's body trembled violently, her grip on Aeron's wrist instantly loosening. She stared at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted but unable to utter a single syllable.
Roccia stepped forward at that moment, steadily supporting Carlotta's arm.
"Miss Carlotta, please come with me."
Carlotta wanted to say more, but the combined impact of the potion and emotional shock left her weakened. She could only allow Roccia to half-support, half-carry her away. Her final glance back at Aeron was complex, but this wasn't something Aeron should concern himself with now.
Only after the two and the troupe members disappeared behind the broken wall did Aeron let out a sigh of relief.
He knew how harsh those words were, but well, if it could push her away, that was enough.
"Quite ruthless to your own allies?" The Rover's voice carried a hint of sighing, her gaze sweeping toward where Carlotta had been taken away.
"After all, she should get some proper rest. She's still a young lady from a noble family—I can't bear to see her like this."
"Why don't I see you being so considerate toward me?"
"Didn't I give you the antidote?"
"I just wish receiving such things didn't have to happen in situations like this."
"What, are you getting attached?"
The Rover merely chuckled softly without answering, simply flipping her wrist and settling into a stance. Even with her Resonance Power suppressed by the medicinal mist, the sharp aura emanating from her hadn't diminished in the slightest.
Not far away, Phrolova had lost her earlier composure, directing her words toward the vigilant Rover.
"Are you content to be a blade in this clown's hands? To be used so blatantly by him?"
Phrolova's words had no visible effect on Rover. Her expression remained unchanged, though her grip on the blade tightened further.
"He's doing what he believes is right. And I'm doing what I must." Her voice was calm yet carried undeniable weight. "As for being used... at least his methods are transparent."
"Promises? Protection? Such pretty words. Do you realize what you're protecting is a mastermind who has calculated even your movements and reactions into his schemes? That Second Young Lady serves as a perfect example of what happens when one becomes too entangled with him."
Phrolova's icy gaze swept over Rover before finally settling on Aeron. This man who possessed no Resonance Power yet constantly disrupted situations through various means... and beside him stood the one who might have been the only person who once understood the music of her soul. Now they stood together, pointing their blades toward her.
"Or perhaps you're fully aware, yet still choose to participate in his dangerous performance?"
"At least for now, the threat before me is Ragunna. I don't need to worry about being stabbed in the back. That's enough."
From the very beginning, Rover had never been an ignorant pawn, but had made her choices based on her own will.
"...But to be honest, don't you also have some misunderstandings about me?"
Yet Aeron couldn't help feeling there were hidden barbs in her words.
"Heh...!" Phrolova let out an ambiguous light laugh, the coldness in her crimson eyes almost materializing. "What a nauseating combination."
"Still better than those who can't even find anyone to form a combination with," Aeron immediately retorted while shooting Rover a meaningful glance.
Rover understood perfectly and took the initiative to strike.
Even without the enhancement of Resonance Power, her speed left only afterimages as her blade aimed directly for Phrolova's vitals, forcing the latter to concentrate fully on controlling Hecate to meet the attack.
Clang!
Hecate's Whip Blade clashed violently with Rover's longsword, sparks flying in all directions.
Having lost most of her Resonance Power, Phrolova's control had noticeably slowed. Hecate's movements lacked their previous eerie fluidity, appearing rather clumsy.
"Tch!" Phrolova dodged Rover's powerful slash but was grazed by a bullet from Aeron, leaving a bleeding cut on her cheek that quickly healed.
"What kind of Fractsidus performer are you? Without Resonance Power, you're just an ordinary person!"
"Shut up!"
"Oh my, getting angry already?"
Phrolova manipulated Hecate to parry Rover's blade, rage swirling in her crimson eyes, yet the drug's effects left her struggling to maintain momentum.
Then, Hecate's Whip Blade changed direction, no longer targeting Rover but swinging toward Aeron instead.
"Hmph, Rover, save me!"
Clang!
Almost simultaneously with Hecate's attack, Rover arrived before Aeron, blocking the strike for him.
Though Aeron's words were flippant, his movements never paused as he sidestepped and circled, muzzle flashes sparkling continuously, forcing Hecate into defensive maneuvers.
"Is this all? Is this all? I don't think you can even touch me, Miss Performer!"
Aeron's face still wore that relaxed smile, as if everything was under his control, and every word he spoke struck precisely where she least wanted to be touched.
"Where did that effortless composure from earlier go? Why are you hiding behind your Echoes now? Speak up!"
"How… annoying!"
The fury in Phrolova's crimson eyes abruptly stalled, then transformed into an even deeper chill. Hecate deflected the Rover's swiftly following blade, her figure drifting back several meters to stand by Phrolova's side.
"What do you gain from provoking me?" Her voice regained its ethereal quality, but the suppressed anger beneath was unmistakable.
"For this fleeting, illusory advantage? Or is your insignificant existence only worth affirming with foul language?"
"Well, didn't you take the bait anyway? Looks like the promise between you and her is like Duracell batteries—one lasts longer than six, huh?"
Aeron swiftly reloaded with one hand, aiming the barrel at Phrolova, while the Rover remained silent, vigilant against any imminent attack.
"Or is it that when you saw her shielding me, you were reminded of the past?"
"...Why did you have to drag me into this?"
Yet she still couldn't understand why Aeron had to bring her up while trash-talking Phrolova.
"Well… you'll have to ask her about that yourself."
After all, it wasn't Aeron's place to explain, nor did he care to.
The Rover obediently turned her gaze toward Phrolova, but when their eyes met—golden against gold—Phrolova only let out a cold sneer.
What she once cherished had been forgotten; what she now clung to had placed them on opposing sides.
She had long since discerned the cause and effect in all of this.
"…Hah, trying the same trick again? Unfortunately, it won't work anymore."
"Don't you laugh when you say that yourself…"
Seeing Phrolova stubbornly sticking to her usual defiance, Aeron couldn't help but sigh at how some people never learn their lesson.
Besides, even if this particular approach no longer worked, Aeron had other tricks up his sleeve.
He hadn't yet pushed Phrolova to the point he desired—he needed to step it up a notch.
Well, no helping it. Though Aeron considered himself a person of high integrity, now he had no choice but to stoop to a lower level for a bit.
After all, this was for Ragunna's sake. He could only hope the Imperator would forgive him.
"What's wrong? Realizing your 'kindred spirit' has completely forgotten you, so you're just letting it all go to hell?"
"Hah, boring provocation."
"I'm just curious—why would someone, for a mirage-like, self-deceiving goal, rather pin their hopes on a bunch of lunatics?"
Aeron tilted his head slightly, watching as Phrolova's pupils widened just a fraction.
Anyone could guess she was thinking, "How does he even know that?"
Well, that's just Aeron's intelligence network for you—never underestimate it!
Alright, now it was time to showcase the skill honed over two lifetimes and thirty years.
"You've spent your whole life trying to reclaim the 'past,' but I'd gladly start a brand-new family register—that's the difference between us, Miss Virtuoso."
Aeron took half a step forward, his remaining right hand hanging casually at his side, yet his gaze was nailed to Phrolova's face like a spike.
"A pointless comparison. An insect like you, who doesn't dare face the past and survives only by petty tricks—do you even deserve to judge me?"
"I refuse to be strangled by the past. You, on the other hand, have been gnawed down to the bone by it, content to lie in the warmth of memories, deluding yourself into thinking it's a comforting hearth."
"That's—"
"Your homeland, that meteor—everyone died, and you alone survived—"
Aeron gave her no chance to interrupt, his tone flippant as if recounting some absurd tale.
"'Lost Shore Beyond Death'—a fine name, but it's nothing more than an unattainable goal. You'd rather gather the echoes of the dead within you than let them rest?"
"…What do you know?" Phrolova's voice was soft as a feather, yet fragile, as if it might shatter at a touch.
"I know you've been deceived—by yourself."
Hecate's whip-blade lashed toward Aeron's face with such speed it left afterimages in the air.
Clang!
Rover's blade intercepted the strike with precision, though the ground beneath her feet cracked slightly from the impact. She lifted her gaze to Phrolova, a complex light flickering in her golden eyes.
"Enough." Phrolova's voice remained calm, but deep within her pupils, something had begun to fracture.
By now, she no longer cared how Aeron had come to know all this.
Every detail of Phrolova's past had been laid bare by him through some unknown means, and he was now tearing open wounds that had yet to heal, right before her eyes.
"Oh, but I won't."
Aeron even took another small step forward, deliberately entering Hecate's attack range while simultaneously unleashing the three-stage technique he had developed over the years.
"How much longer will you deceive yourself, serving as someone else's weapon for a goal that's nearly impossible to achieve? How much longer will you keep those thousands of echoes trapped?"
"And how much longer will you remain imprisoned by all this?"
"—That's enough."
Rover cut in, interrupting Aeron. Phrolova had already lost most of her combat ability; subduing her should suffice. Why did Aeron insist on provoking her further?
"It's not enough."
That was the only reply he offered.
From the very beginning, Aeron's goal had never been to make Phrolova submit quietly.
He didn't even glance at Rover, his eyes and attention fixed solely on the trembling Phrolova before him.
"Now, the 'Resurrection of the Dead' you've dreamed of is right before your eyes… Care to guess why?"
Only then did Aeron finally turn to look at Rover.
"Your long wait may not have been in vain."
Then, he flashed a wild, arrogant grin.
"Isn't the one standing before you now the retribution you've been waiting for?"
Bzzzz—!!!
A piercing, ear-splitting resonance shriek erupted from Phrolova, forcibly dispersing even the suppression of the Medicinal Mist.
"…Congratulations. Your attempt to provoke me has succeeded."
Phrolova lifted her gaze, her crimson pupil reflecting Aeron's form.
"And next, I'll make you regret this."
Phrolova's voice lost all warmth, leaving only a texture stripped of emotion—a cold, hollow core.
With a light tap of her baton, crimson ripples spread across the stage. Then, from the surrounding ruins, the dormant Echoes remnants—previously drawn by Aeron and fallen in battle—began to tremble faintly.
Their residual frequencies were forcibly extracted and stripped away, transforming into dim, scattered streams of light that converged toward Hecate.
The whip-blade in its grip grew more menacing, its surface now studded with barbs and irregular blades.
Twisted spikes, serrated edges, and constantly gnashing teeth formed an elegant dancer's gown around its form.
Then, Phrolova slowly raised her hand, pointing toward Aeron not far away.
"...Capture him."
Witnessing this scene, Aeron smiled faintly and swiftly retreated, pulling Rover in front of him as a shield.
"You're on from here~"
Meanwhile, observing Phrolova entering her second phase before her eyes, the Rover fell into deep contemplation.
This guy really is the type to toss a bomb right into someone else's hands!
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