Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

**—Hom’s POV—**

*—Pitch black. I could see nothing.*

My whole body screamed, the stabbing pain gnawing away at me.

“Altered! Altered!”
“Altered! Altered!”

The cheers from the audience reached me faintly. Even though I should have still been locked in battle with Lady Estea, I thought I glimpsed Class F before my eyes—Lady Farah and the others, smiling at me.

“Hom! Come back!”
“Don’t lose! Don’t you dare give up!!”
“This isn’t the end yet~!”

Their warm voices touched my ears, letting me forget the pain, if only for a moment.

“Estea! Estea!”
“Estea! Altered!”

The voices cheering for Lady Estea resounded as well.

Where was I right now? I could barely feel my body. I no longer knew if this place was reality or dream. Where was Lady Alfe? Was Master still in the colosseum?

When I turned my head, I thought I caught a whiff of Lady Alfe’s sweet fragrance at the tip of my nose.

“Hom!”
“Hom!”

I thought I heard Lady Alfe’s and Master’s voices, and my eyes flew open.

Through the faint, hazy mist, I thought I saw their figures. Behind them loomed Selem Salkh, blade at the ready.

“Mas…ter…?”

There was no way Master could truly be here in the flesh. Then, was this a dream? What had become of the finals? I had put everything into that last strike, and then—

**“Hom!!”**

A shock struck my ears as Master’s fierce encouragement reached me.

“Master!!”

I lifted my heavy head and turned. I was still at the center of the colosseum.

*—The battle is not yet over!*

My body was nearly drained of magic. I realized I had blacked out for only a few seconds. At the same time, I placed my left hand over the control stick in my right. It felt so stiff and heavy now, almost impossible for me to move.

Altered, battered beyond recognition, had already run dry of black blood-oil. And yet, just one more push—just one more step—and I could break through Selem Salkh’s deadlock. I refused to let it end in blood loss. I wanted to strike back at least once more.

“Move—please move, Altered!”

I poured every ounce of strength into the control stick, so hard my arm bones felt like they might snap. As if answering my plea, the stick finally tilted forward.

“Blitzraid!!”

The lingering lightning aether within the charged cloth responded to my cry. This was truly the final burst of speed.

“Ugh, aaah—aaAAAAHHH!”

My whole body was screaming. The air itself trembled and crackled as Lady Estea’s power and mine clashed with growing force.

“I won’t lose! I will surpass your full strength—surpass it and prove it!!”

Her voice rang out, clear and unshakable, driven by absolute resolve. I had no room left for thought—only to give everything I had. The storm roared, blades of wind mercilessly shredding Altered. And still, I refused to yield. I stood in this colosseum because I had sworn I would see it through.

*Break through—please.*

*Reach.*

*Reach.*

*Reach—!*

“Reeeeeeaaaachhhhhh!!!”

My legs, synchronized with Altered, burned as if aflame. I was at my limit. But so was Lady Estea.

The sound of cracking steel reached my ears—her blade had fractured.

“HAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

This would be the end. I knew I would never rise again after this. But that was fine.

With a shattering crash, Selem Salkh’s sword broke apart, the balance of power between us collapsing.

Altered’s leg struck true, smashing through the machine’s left side.

“…hahh, hhhahh…”

Barely landing on its feet, Altered staggered, while dizziness spun my head and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

No sound reached me.

The massive crowd that filled the coliseum had fallen utterly silent, as if the world itself had been stilled. Even the announcer, microphone in hand, was frozen in place.

“……”

Faintly—just faintly—the loudspeaker of Selem Salkh picked up Lady Estea’s voice. But before I could make out the words, her machine slowly collapsed forward from its knees.

Kneeling into the mud, the white frame sank down. A shadow stretched long over it, cast by an upraised fist.

“Ah…”

That shadow belonged to Altered’s arm.

Without realizing it, I had raised Altered’s fist high toward the sky.

“Selem Salkh’s pilot has lost consciousness—judged as a down!! Therefore… the winnnnnneeeeeeeer… is… ALTEREDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!”

The announcer declared my victory.

On the verge of magical exhaustion, my mind drifting, it felt almost like I was dreaming.

“An un-be-lievable matchhhhhhhhh!!! Truly—truly a death match worthy of the grand finals!!! Who could have predicted such a battle in the Zersteller – Canalford Cuuuuupppp!!!!”

As though he had been holding his breath through the entire clash, the announcer now burst into life, his exuberant voice anchoring my fading consciousness to this place.

“I am noooooow… completely overwhelmed with emotionnnnnnnnnnnn!!!! I’m so glad to be alive!!! The winnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnner of this year’s Zersteller—Canalford Cup iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssss… the one who has given us this overwhelming emotion… REINFORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“Altered! Altered!”
“Reinforce! Reinforce!”

The spectators in the colosseum rose to their feet, shouting our names. Thunderous cheers and applause poured down like rain.

And yet, all those voices—all that sound—reached me from far away.

“Master…”

Because I had finally found Master’s figure in the crowd.

*“Congratulations, Hom.”*

No matter how small the voice, I would never fail to hear Master’s words.

Arkecius was more than half‑sunken in the mud, but Master had stayed by my side, watching over me the whole time.

“Thank you very much, Master.”

Warmth filled my chest. I had thought I couldn’t take even a single step more, yet somehow the strength to move the machine toward Master seemed to well up from deep within me.