At this moment, Fiammetta's crimson eyes were locked onto Andoain. The sheer killing intent spilling from her gaze left no room for doubt: she was here for blood.
Andoain's state of mind was, by contrast, somewhat peaceful. He looked at his old friend, who looked as if she wanted to carve him into pieces, and felt no surprise at her presence here.
"Opening fire in a place like this is bound to attract the Apostolic Knights. You wouldn't want to be arrested for causing property damage around the Basilica, would you?"
Andoain remarked, surveying the scorched area around them. It seemed she had come for him with the resolve to dismantle the Basilica itself if necessary. If she followed through, however, even she would face punishment—especially for unauthorized detonations in a restricted zone.
Secretly, Andoain cursed his own carelessness. The shock of his meeting with the Pope had been so great that he'd forgotten this person would be lying in wait. He'd sensed her hiding spot when he first entered; he should have taken a more discreet route out.
Like the rooftops, perhaps?
"I don't need a reminder from a guy like you. At the very least, I notified the Apostolic Knights of my intent. They've authorized my actions here. Unlike you—you're just a trespasser."
Fiammetta stood before him, slotting another explosive bolt into her crossbow while remaining hyper-vigilant. This man's Originium Arts were elusive; if she let her guard down for even a second, he was liable to turn the tables on her.
As for "notifying the Apostolic Knights"? She had, technically. Her mentor—the old man in her family—was a Apostolic Knight himself, and before she left, he'd mentioned he would handle any "procedural issues." Had he not been there to back her up, she might have had to restrain her firepower. At least now, she didn't have to worry about the collateral damage as much.
"I suppose I forgot about that. But speaking of which... Mostima, are you planning to take a cheap shot at my back?"
Andoain hadn't looked behind him once, yet he was absolutely certain Mostima was hiding in his blind spot, ready to strike. She had always been fond of such tactics; the sensation was far too familiar. It was a pity she could no longer use her Patron Firearm, otherwise, he might have been hit already.
"Am I really that obvious? I thought I'd hidden quite well. Long time no see, Andoain."
Seeing that her concealment was useless, Mostima simply stepped out. She wore a smile as if nothing had happened, greeting him with practiced ease. Yet, Andoain could see through the mask. Despite the smile, her tone and her gaze were as cold as ice—as if she were looking at something that didn't even exist. It felt as though he were a stranger to her, and the smile was merely a lingering habit.
"So, the two of you were waiting for me here? Let me guess... how long has it been? Three days?"
Seeing the situation, Andoain gave up on planning an escape. Instead, he began to reminisce with his two old friends. He acted as though he wasn't worried at all about being cornered and eventually dragged off by the Apostolic Knights.
Or perhaps, he was actually craving Laterano's judgment. He hoped for a punishment that would let him atone for his actions. He was lost; with his dream shattered, he was like a stray lamb with no future. It was easier to let Laterano punish him. Given his crimes, even if they showed mercy and spared him from execution, he'd be looking at life imprisonment, wouldn't he?
That way, he could stay in Laterano forever. Wasn't that what he should do?
But... what about those who called him The Guide? What about those who were willing to sacrifice themselves for him? How could he face them? His mind felt as if it were being torn in two, a debate raging internally where neither side could concede.
"What's with that face? Now that you've been humbled, you're going to play the pity card so we'll let you off easy?"
Watching Andoain's despondent, wooden gaze, Fiammetta felt her temper flare. She fired an explosive bolt directly at him.
In a narrow alleyway, such weapons were terrifyingly effective. The cramped environment amplified the blast, forcing even Andoain to dodge frantically. Fiammetta had no intention of letting the scumbag go. She continued to reload her weapon, shouting:
"You're quite nimble for someone who's supposed to be escaping! If you really don't want to live, why don't you just stand there and take my bullets? Who are you trying to impress with that 'world-weary' act!"
She was practically screaming at him. Fortunately, the area was deserted; otherwise, crowds of onlookers—who in doesn't Laterano love a good spectacle—would have already gathered.
She was furious that Andoain had betrayed her. He had betrayed the friendship they had built through years of fighting and traveling together. She was enraged that a temporary absence on her part had resulted in the four of them falling apart, perhaps never to reunite.
And what galled her even more was that the man who had been so resolute in destroying two lives—no, perhaps three, if you counted Lemuen's sister—had turned into this vacillating wreck who had lost his way!
You ruined their lives for your 'purpose'! And now you're wavering? Why are you even still alive?
To her, this man had shredded their years of bond and the things they cherished most. After tearing it all apart, he'd vanished for years, only to reappear today and use his mud-stained boots to stomp all over the beauty she had tried so hard to piece back together.
If I don't [Laterano Slang] scatter your ashes today, I'm using my feathers to make Mostima a pillow tonight!
"Lost the will to live? Is that how I look to you now? I suppose... in this situation, that's exactly right."
Andoain dodged the explosions with fluid movements, showing no desire to counter-attack. The blast radius was too wide for him to find an opening anyway. Vaguely, he felt as if someone was aiming at him from a distance, but a quick search revealed no one.
Had they found a new elite sniper to join their team after he left? He doubted it. Knowing them, they would rather wait for Lemuen to recover than find a replacement for her. But what was this feeling? Was Lemuen here? Unlikely—she could barely move on her own in her wheelchair...
BOOM!
Taking advantage of Andoain's lapse in concentration, Fiammetta seized the moment. She unleashed a direct hit that Andoain couldn't fully evade.
In the next instant, it was as if a massive flashbang had gone off. Endless light flooded the alley, blinding anyone without protection. Even though Fiammetta had prepared sunglasses, the sheer intensity messed with her aim, causing her to lose her lock.
Following a secondary explosion, a battered Andoain leaned against a wall, panting for breath. He'd taken quite a beating tonight—first from the Pope, then the aftershocks of Jeanne's attack, and now this blast. These were likely the most severe injuries he'd sustained in years.
And the record was about to be broken. As the next bolt whistled toward him, he realized he didn't have the stamina left to use his Arts to dodge. Mostima was the reason; she was just standing there with a smile, but the staff in her hand told him everything—she was slowing his time!