Subaru almost collapsed as she came back. The world snapped into place around her, the trees, the clearing, the gray sky pressing down from above. Her knees buckled. Her hands caught herself on the ground, fingers digging into the dirt, holding herself upright by sheer force of will. She knew that she was not getting away from him easily. He had already killed her four times. Was it five? The deaths blurred together, each one stacking on top of the last, a pile of corpses that all wore her face.
Regardless, she needed to make sure that none of her deaths went to waste. Each loop was a chance to learn something new, to gather information, to find a weakness she could exploit. Rivale was faster. Rivale was stronger. Rivale had killed her again and again without breaking a sweat. But there had to be something, some gap in his defense, some limit to his power.
She raised her hand. Mana gathered in her palm, shaping itself into something small, something dense, something that moved faster than the eye could follow. She needed something faster than Rivale. Something he could not outspeed. Something unseen by him and new to this world, a weapon he had never encountered before, a tool whose mechanics he could not instantly understand.
Metal took shape in her grip. Cold. Heavy. A barrel, a chamber, a trigger. A gun. Not a bow, not a sword, not anything a demon from this world would have seen before. A revolver, large and black, with cylinders that held the promise of high caliber rounds.
Rivale had barely stepped out of the woods when he realized that something was approaching him. Fast. Very fast. His eyes widened, his body tensed, but he was unable to dodge. The small piece of metal pierced his shoulder, tearing through flesh and muscle, burying itself somewhere inside. He stumbled, confused, his hand reaching up to touch the wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, dark and thick.
He looked at Linie standing in the clearing. She was holding a black metal thing in her hand, her arm extended, her posture steady. What was it? He had never seen anything like it. The shape was strange, the design unfamiliar, the purpose unclear. He did not have time to think further.
The rain of small metals came down on him.
Subaru pulled the trigger again and again, each shot sending a round screaming toward Rivale. He dodged some, his body moving with that impossible speed, but others found their mark. His arm. His side. His leg. He had no idea what the thing was, and his confusion showed in his face, in the way his eyes darted from the gun to his wounds to her face.
Subaru was spending as precise mana as possible to feed the ammunition. Each bullet required energy to create, each shell required energy to form. She had to balance the cost, to make sure she did not exhaust herself too quickly. The gun was effective, but it was also expensive.
Then he was upon her again.
His fist came toward her face, fast, faster than the bullets. Subaru leaped back, her boots skidding against the ground, her body twisting to avoid the blow. She saw his hands. In them was an identical weapon, the same shape, the same size, the same black metal.
But he was not using it the way she used it. He was holding it by the barrel, swinging it like a club, trying to hit her with it rather than shoot her. His face was frustrated, angry, confused.
Subaru's eyes widened as she realized.
"You cannot copy things you cannot understand," she said.
Rivale paused. His grip on the gun loosened slightly. "What?"
She lowered her own weapon, keeping it trained on him but not firing. "Your ability is to create weapons from your opponent's power. But if you cannot understand the mechanism behind the weapon, you cannot use it properly. You can make the shape, but you cannot make it work."
Rivale looked at the gun in his hand. He turned it over, examining it, his brow furrowed. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He pulled it again. Still nothing. The mechanism was beyond him, the internal workings a mystery he could not solve.
"Oh," he said. "And you just learned this?"
Subaru hesitated. She could lie. She could pretend that she had known all along, that she had been playing a longer game than he realized. But something told her that lies would not help her here. Rivale was many things, but he was not stupid.
"Actually," she said, "I lost my memories. I have no idea who you are. So can you tell me who you are?"
Rivale stared at her. His expression shifted through several emotions, confusion, curiosity, amusement, before settling on something that looked almost like respect.
"Huh," he said. "I see now." He tossed the useless gun aside. It dissolved into mana before it hit the ground. "Interesting. Very interesting." He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, working out the stiffness from the bullets that had pierced him. The wounds were already closing, the flesh knitting together, the blood drying and flaking away. "I wonder how you were able to conjure that thing, whatever it is."
Subaru shrugged. "I am very creative. I used my imagination."
Rivale laughed. It was a short laugh, sharp and genuine. "You see, people call me a brawler. They say I am not much of a thinker." He tapped his temple with one finger. "However, that does not mean I am stupid."
He looked at her, his eyes sharp, his grin fading.
"You are not Linie, are you?"
Subaru froze. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and undeniable.
"Eh?" she managed. "Why? It might be because I lost my memories—"
Rivale waved his hand, cutting her off. "I am not really interested in all that." His grin returned, wider than before. "But fight me."
Subaru stared at him. "You only understand fight language, huh?"
"I am a warrior who fights with noble pride." He placed his hand over his chest, his posture straightening, his chin rising. "Battle is the only language that matters to me."
Subaru frowned. "Aren't demons supposed to be emotionless? That is what everyone says."
Rivale shrugged. "That is not my area of expertise. Solitär and Macht would know better. They are the ones who study humans, who try to understand the things we lack." He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the world. "But demons, just like any living beings, can feel emotions. In my case, I like the thrill that comes with battle. The rush of blood. The clash of steel. The moment when two warriors meet and only one walks away. I want to meet someone I can respect, someone who is a warrior at heart. Show me whether you are worthy of my respect or not,"
Subaru sighed. "There is no stopping it, is there?"
"No."
She rubbed her face with her hands. "Who is Solitär, anyway?"
Rivale's grin sharpened. "I will tell you only if you win. And if you win, I will answer your questions. All of them."
Subaru looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Alright. I will fight you."
She stepped back, putting distance between them. Three hundred rounds of magnum, and the bastard was not even sweating. His wounds had healed. His energy seemed endless. She had already spent another twenty percent of her mana reserves, bringing her total down to nearly half. The gun was effective, but it was not enough. She needed something else. Something faster. Something he could not simply heal from.
She reached into her mana and pulled out a knife. Then another. Then another. They appeared in her hands, one after another, their blades gleaming in the faint light. She threw them, fast and hard, aiming for his throat, his chest, his eyes.
True to her thoughts, he produced a knife of his own. The shape was identical, the weight the same, the edge just as sharp. He deflected her throws with ease, his blade moving in a blur, sending her knives spinning off into the trees.
He can only use the weapon his opponent uses, she thought. That is his limitation. He copies what he sees. But his knowledge regarding the weapon's mechanism limits how well he can use it. A gun is too complex, so he cannot fire it. A knife is simple, so he can wield it like a natural.
But not only was he faster, he was much stronger. Even with the same weapon, even with the same technique, he outmatched her in every physical way. She could not beat him through speed or strength. She had to find another angle.
"Well," Rivale said, spinning his knife in his hand, "ready when you are, faker."
Subaru clenched her fist. Faker. The word stung more than it should have. She was a faker, pretending to be something she was not, wearing a face that did not belong to her. But that did not mean she could not win.
She pulled another knife from her mana and settled into her stance.
"Let me tell you something: I am an Otaku!"