The Simulacrum
~Chapter 170~ Part 2

I don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but I was getting pretty good at setting up a stage. It came with experience, I supposed, since I'd been doing it ever since I invented Bel. On second thought, I might've started to dabble with the craft even before that, when I was trying to corner Fred and end his sentai-shenanigans in a narratively fitting way.

But I was splitting hairs at this point. In short, while this wasn't the first time I'd done something like this, nor was it the first time I had subordinates and co-conspirators working with me, this was the first time I was actively working with future-me, and that made the complexity of the ploy increase exponentially. Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous; kind of like a mild form of performance anxiety.

I wasn't too anxious though. I mean, I literally couldn't mess things up, because if I did, then it would affect future-me and cause a paradox. I never thought something like that would reassure me… but it couldn't allay all of my worries, because of that whole Free Actor thing. Free Actors could, according to The Man, directly affect the scenario with their choices and even steer the whole narrative in directions not even the Emergents could predict. There were limits though, limits that I had already broken, yet because they were currently unaware of the source of the retcons, they mistook me for a Free Actor all the same. They also mistook me for a secretive Emergent as well, which… brought up a whole lot of other troubling questions about my nature and identity in the even grander scheme of things.

Anyhow, that was for later. The point I was getting at was that, as future-me had once pointed out, I was considered a Free Actor in the current scenario, and so it wasn't completely out of the question that the universe would let me cause a paradox. On top of that, my hijacking of the Narrative on a subconscious level also posed another layer of potential complications, and the fact that I still wasn't back at one hundred percent after yesterday's stunt was just the cherry on top.

Normally I would've refused to kickstart the final arc of the scenario in this condition, but future-me had already convinced me that we needed to stick to a strict schedule, and so I had no choice but to tighten my belt, steel my nerves, and jump headlong into the act, sink or swim.

But enough with the preambles. I couldn’t keep the spectators waiting for too long.

I arrived at the Dracis mansion rather unceremoniously. The hallway leading into the conference hall was jam-packed with people; some of them were trying to get away from the fighting, mostly the various dignitaries and other non-combatants, while a hodge-podge mixture of Ordo Draconis squires, Draconian bodyguards, and regular security personnel were standing paralyzed, unable to decide whether to evacuate, secure the perimeter, or rush in and join the fray.

After the first shock of my sudden appearance passed, the crowd parted in front of me like the Red Sea, giving me access to the ajar doors leading into the conference room. However, before that…

"Get the civilians out of the building!" I yelled out to jolt the armed men out of their indecision, then pointed a finger down the other end of the hallway. "You aren't going to be much use here, so stand guard and keep alert!"

I punctuated my orders by donning my Leoformer. While my Polemos gear would've been more fitting the opponent, I was in the heart of the Draconic Federation, so fighting as the King of Knights was more appropriate. Back straight, I approached the doors with a determined stride and threw them open with enough force to make the hinges groan.

My entrance made everyone inside freeze up for a moment, allowing me to take a quick account of the situation. We were in realspace, obviously. The whole point of this event was to have an audience, and we couldn't do that if we just Purple Zoned the place. The council hall was the same as usual; a large rectangular chamber set up kind of like a court-room. Rows of benches on one side, facing an elevated section with a large, curved table on it, where the Speakers of the Draconic Council would sit. Then, between those two, some empty space and a wooden podium that was currently in rather bad shape, most likely as the result of a small dragon-fire blast.

Now, as for the people present, we naturally had future-me-as-Bel in the back, currently standing not too far away from Duncan. Arnwald was still at his Speaker's seat at the elevated table, his bow drawn and ready to let loose. On the other side of the room, Agrawain and Roland were shielding a few non-combatants who couldn't get out of the room yet. Other than them, I could also see Yseult and Naoren, already in their draconic forms and glaring menacingly at Bel.

They weren't the only ones. While the majority of the people on the Draconic Council weren't even side-character-grade by our unofficial classification system, they were still Draconians of high standing. That meant pure bloodlines, proper transformations, and very competitive and confrontational attitudes. What I was trying to say was that there were about twenty rather irate dragon-people in the room, and all of them looked like they wanted a piece of Bel for themselves.

My in-laws weren't among them. It was something I pre-arranged ahead of time by sending them on a diplomatic mission to the School; not because I was worried for their safety, but so that Sebastian would have no choice but to accompany them. The old incognito dragon already proved that his rationality would slip as soon as Bel was within his field of view, so it was best to take him off this board, just to be safe.

That said, Mom-in-law and Dad-in-law not being present wasn't a bad thing either; previous experience told me that having too many important people around tended to over-crowd the scene and lead to all kinds of unforeseen developments, so it was best to keep things to our unwitting actors on stage to a minimum.

"Polemos, old buddy!" Bel exclaimed with delight while simultaneously hopping out of the way of Duncan's sword.

"Staun aye, ye pumpin' bas!" the big guy roared as he continued his assault, but his blade found no purchase as Bel continued to casually bend and twist around his strikes like a willow in the wind.

Looking at it from the outside, it made me wonder whether I also looked this uncanny when I was relying on my sixth sense to avoid attacks, or if future-me was just hamming it up, but I didn't have a lot of time to consider it. After a small pirouette, Bel abruptly disappeared and did our classic 'appearing while already sitting' trick, landing on the damaged podium and nonchalantly crossing his legs.

"You're a bit late, aren't you?" he levelled the question at me, sounding jovial, but then he suddenly tilted his head to the side. "But what's with that entrance? I thought you would appear behind me and go 'Nothing personal, kid...', and then do the stabby-stabby while looking all cool and edgy!"

"Ey! Come back 'ere ye—!"

"Duncan, stand down!" I snapped at our Minotaur Knight, already in the process of trying to climb over the benches to get to Bel again, and after a long beat, he grudgingly complied.

I simultaneously sent a glance at Arnwald, and while he couldn't see my eyes behind the helmet, he still automatically let his bow down. The rest quickly followed suit, moving back and assuming defensive postures, allowing me to focus on Bel. So far, things were going according to the script, and I needed them to stay that way.

"What exactly are you doing?" I asked in a low growl while walking down the aisle between the benches, slowly approaching future-me on the podium.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked back in a tone that was both provocative and gleeful at the same time.

"I'm the one asking the questions here," I spoke flatly while also retrieving Teeny from the storage enchantment and immediately shifting it to its spear form. I didn't bother to do a flourish and simply but firmly tapped its butt end against the hardwood floor. "Answer me."

"Brother Leonard! We should attack together, and…!" Naoren, his long hair flaring with red light and hands raised in a martial arts stance, called out to me, but I immediately shut him down with an extended palm without looking his way.

"Please, stand back." I waited for him to stand down, and only then did I turn back to Bel to resume the script. "This isn't your modus operandi, Bel."

"Oh, please! I can use difficult words too!" future-me responded playfully and jumped off the podium. He reflexively tugged on his lapels and, after a tense beat, abruptly pointed at me, causing everyone in the room to twitch in apprehension. "Sesquipedalian antidisestablishmentarianism!" That was followed by a long beat, then a jaunty, "Your turn!"

"I'm not in the mood for your games today," I growled at him while taking a few more steps towards him, and I barely had to act to make my indignation sound genuine.

"But I am in the mood!" future-me countered and spread his arms provocatively. "Tell you what? If you're that curious…" He paused and shifted his voice into a dry, flat tone as he uttered, "Make me talk."

Uuuhh… It was a bit cringy, looking at it from the outside, but it was certainly effective on the onlookers, so I couldn't exactly complain. The road of the thespian arts was a thorny one sometimes.

"Fine. Have it your way."

I took up a stance, but by this point I walked close enough where we were in each other's phantom limb range, and I could soon hear a faint static on the communication arrays.

"{Testing, testing.}"

"{Hear you loud and clear,}" I messaged back.

"{Bit of a crowd on the left. I'll make the first move, then we relocate to the right.}"

"{Roger.}"

To the outsiders, our little exchange probably looked like one of those silent standoffs from a cowboy movie, where both of us were waiting for some kind of signal to move. Maybe a noon bell, or a stray tumbleweed. We had neither of those in the hall, so the performance started with future-me disappearing.

As per our previous exchange, I automatically swept my spear to the right, catching him just as he rematerialized. He held up both of his arms in a boxer's stance and took the swing head-on, using the momentum to leap back. I followed right after him, and after a small flourish, we began our dance.

Since we started with a repositioning exchange, I followed it up with a series of rapid thrusts, and future-me responded with multiple quick, precise parries using his palms and the edges of his hands. Each time he made contact, it resulted in flashes of magical sparks and uncanny sharp, ringing sounds. It was all for show, but then again, so was this whole fight.

Not that it meant I didn't have to take it seriously. In a way, it was more serious than most 'proper' battles I had in the past. For a start, while we rehearsed for this ahead of time, there was no way to make a fool-proof choreography for the whole fight due to the changing terrain and potential external interruptions. I also couldn't half-ass things either, since the audience here was composed of battle-hardened folks who could tell if I was pulling my punches. Because of that, every single swing and thrust had to look one hundred percent genuine.

Of course, that didn't mean that we didn't have any safety nets in place. Doing otherwise would've been just plain irresponsible.

"He's using spear energy!" one of the Eastern Draconian representatives still in the hall exclaimed, followed by a different Western Draconian council member yelling, "But that bastard's still blocking it!"

Yep. No flashy duel would be complete without the peanut gallery commenting on the techniques on display. In this case, the first commentator was off the mark by a mile though. It wasn't his fault, as it was by design.

Meanwhile, Teeny's spearpoint was engulfed in a wispy white light as I made four consecutive stabs from different angles, drawing bright trails in the air in the process. Future-me, his gloved hands surrounded by a crackling purple glow, deflected three of them and then deftly hopped out of the way of the last one, just as we practised. Both the lights and the colours were entirely theatrical, and while the average onlooker would inevitably mistake them for some kind of mystical power used to magnify the destructive power of our attacks, they served the exact opposite purpose.

Because safety was important.

But back to the dance. While I clearly had a major advantage here due to having a weapon with much longer reach (in retrospect, not giving Bel a signature weapon was a mistake, but as always, hindsight was twenty-twenty), yet the battle couldn't be too one-sided. That would not only ruin the tension but also damage Bel's credibility as an antagonist.

"{Let's do position exchange four.}"

"{Got it,}" I messaged back, then added. "{We need more space behind me.}"

"{Right. I'll taunt you while you reposition.}"

"{Roger.}"

Just because we were secretly talking to each other, it didn't mean we stopped moving, and we finished up our last exchange with future-me deftly jumping over a low swipe, followed by a back-flip and him landing on top of one of the benches.

"Oh, saucy!" he exclaimed with audible glee. "You've got much trickier since the olden days! Did you think I wouldn't notice you trying to box me in?"

"I'm not just trying." I withdrew my spear and assumed a laidback posture while slowly shifting to the left. "I've already got you cornered."

"Oh, you mean this?" he waved his hands around, much to the onlookers' confusion. "I admit, your little space-saturation trick is troublesome, but how long can you keep it up? You aren't exactly in your best condition, are you?"

"I could ask the same." I jerked my head towards his 'injured' arm. "You haven't recovered from yesterday either."

At this point I was already in position, but since we started talking, we had to conclude it properly. Mid-combat banter was another of those universal tropes, after all. Raising my weapon, I used Teeny to point at future me again.

"So let me ask again, Bel of the Abyss: why would you, already injured, attack the Draconic Federation in the open like this?"

"Ack! You hurt me with your accusations!" future-me shuddered and clutched his chest. "I didn't attack anyone! I only came to say hello, share my opinions on the quarterly budget, and burn down the…" He abruptly froze mid-motion and let his hands down. "Aaah, riiight. I'm starting to understand what you're getting at."

"Then answer my question," I growled.

"I can only repeat myself," future-me said with a provocative smirk audible in his voice as he mimed a scraping bow, only to suddenly add, "Make me!"

I simultaneously received a signal through the communication enchantment, so I lunged forward. Future me jumped over my head, and as I turned on my heel to follow his trajectory, I pulled the shaft of Teeny in front of me, just in time for his heel to strike it. The resulting small magical explosion pushed us apart, and I nearly stumbled as my left calf hit one of the benches. Bel, in the meantime, made a perfect landing in the empty space near the podium.

While I knew that nobody could see it, I still had to work hard to stop myself from grinning. This particular move was something we practised quite a bit ahead of time, but it was still tricky, so the fact that we managed to pull it off without a hitch still made me giddy. There was no time for that though, so I steeled my expression under the faceplate and lunged forth, future-me already waiting for me.

It was a rush, and I couldn't help myself from doing some extra-silly moves. In particular, I did several over-exaggerated diagonal twirls, timed so that my partner could deflect them without too much problem, and then I planted Teeny into the floor. Using the spear as leverage, kind of like a pole-vaulter, I sprung forward with both legs extended, not only doing the mother of all drop-kicks, but also doing a spin in the process. It was about as impractical as it could get, but it was sure as hell dynamic, and the kind of move that fit the concept of a high-end melee clash in a battle harem shounen narrative.

Also, let us be realistic for a moment; where else was I ever going to do something like this again?

Now, while this was a high-impact strike, it also had a different purpose, as it was one of our pre-established style-switching moves. Future-me side-stepped my assault and assumed a low stance, one hand pulled back before launching a palm strike, just as I landed. However, to get Teeny out of the floor, I already switched it to its sword form while flying mid-air, so Bel's attack fell directly on the flat of the blade propped by my other hand.

There was a loud clang, followed by a series of wicked-fast exchanges, where we stayed in knife-fighting range and the sparks of our blows lit up the whole hall. It was concluded by me pretending to lose momentum for a second, allowing Bel to prep another big palm strike, and when I blocked it, he activated the anti-dragon enchantment on his glove. It had no direct effect on me, obviously, but it had the benefit of creating a loud boom for some extra impact, and I let it stagger me back, putting some distance between us.

We were far from done though. As soon as I came to a halt, I activated the storage enchantment and retrieved Cal as well. It was time for phase two, and future-me followed suit by activating the flashy special effect enchantment woven into his outfit, enveloping his whole body in a thick, otherworldly purple aura. I responded by doing the same with my weapons, coating them with the dangerous-looking yet mostly harmless 'sword energy' before we both lunged forward again.

The following exchanges were, I admit, a bit of a blur. This was the part we rehearsed the most, so I was just following the choreography to a tee. Left, right, backstroke, and then spin. That kind of thing. It was still tense, and it still required lots of attention, but I was already mentally preparing for the third stage, and it came soon enough.

Once we deemed that the audience was suitably engrossed, it was time to up the ante, and without warning, future-me disappeared mid-strike, only to reappear behind me. I stumbled dramatically, but only to immediately Phase away, invoking the classing 'No, I'm the one behind you!' trope, where two speedsters would try to one-up each other by repeatedly shifting behind their opponent.

After this point, we didn't need much in terms of choreography, as the third phase was rather simple: we would both disappear, then reappear at a different part of the hall, clash to create a lot of noise and sparks, then Phase to the other end of the chamber and repeat the process. Each time we increased the speed and intensity of the moves, filling the whole place with a cacophonous noise and blinding special effects that made the audience's heads spin, and then at the crescendo of the act, we reappeared in the middle, right in front of the podium where it all started, and after one final, deafening clash we both staggered back.

"Nice one, old chap!" future-me exclaimed while shaking his hands and wriggling his fingers. "Too bad your whole space-saturation gimmick only lasts for so long, eh?" He circled his shoulders and started shadow-boxing. "It was a good warm-up! Ready for round two? How about we use half of our power this time? No, wait. That might be a bit too much for a friendly spar. Forty percent?"

I let out a theatrical sigh and lowered my weapons, and future-me acted confused to match the scene.

"What are you still doing here? You could've escaped for a while now."

"You keep asking these pesky questions," Bel grumbled and crossed his arms. "You didn't use to be like this. Is that the kid's influence on your psychical brain matter stuff, I wonder?"

Instead of a retort I only let out a growl, and future-me responded with an amused chuckle.

"Oh, don't mope like that! It makes me feel like I'm the bad guy!" He spread his arms at this point and lowered his voice into a slightly less whimsical yet still not quite serious tone. "You know what? I'll be the bigger man this time, and answer your question. You want to know why I'm here, right?" I promptly nodded. "Well, Polemos, I have a better question for you, one that should answer yours as well: in what way are we similar to a guided missile?"

Acting with body language alone was hard, but I tried my best to feign confusion that way, so Bel let out another chortle.

"Only we know where we are at all times. We know this, because we know where we aren't. So tell me, old friend…" One dramatic pause later, he leaned forward and said, "Where aren't you right now?"

And with that, plus a wink, he immediately Phased away, leaving me alone with a confused crowd. Not for long though, as I turned on my heel and yelled, "Arnwald!"

"Y-Yes, My Liege?" the man with the bow looked a bit out of it, yet he still snapped to attention.

"This was a diversion! Contact everyone, now!"

"As you command!"

With him moving, the rest of the people in the hall also began to awaken from their stupor caused by our over-the-top battle, and while I could hear snippets of amazed, frightened, and even awestruck conversations, the first person who stepped up to me was more annoyed than anything.

"Was this really necessary?" Roland, looking rather exasperated by the events (or maybe just the fact that I didn't warn him about them ahead of time), spoke in a faint whisper made more intense by his glare.

"Yes, unfortunately," I responded in a similarly low voice before stashing my weapons and switching out of my armour. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll personally take care of the fallout of this one."

He let out a huff that could be best translated as 'You better,' but I let it roll off my back and followed after Arnwald. Being the director, the main actor, and the stage manager of the show was hard work, but someone had to do it…