Creating Anime In A Fantasy World

Chapter 226: The Garden of Sinners Episode 5: Paradox Spiral! (Part 24)

On the screen, the clash between Araya Souren and Ryougi Shiki erupted into a frenzy.

Araya, now relying on only his left arm, pressed desperately against the ancient blade in Shiki’s hands. His body writhed across the floor like a serpent, his remaining hand snapping forward to seize her throat.

That left hand carried the embedded shard of the relic. Not even the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception could sever it.

And so, pouring the last of his strength into the assault, Araya drove his palm outward. Space itself collapsed under his grip, shattering into crushing force that came at Shiki from every angle, a barrage strong enough to pulverize bone.

“—Sei!”

Shiki did not flinch. She retreated, only to spring upward the next instant, body twisting through the narrow gap of space. From midair, her blade speared straight into the magus’s chest.

“—Don’t mock me!!”

Souren roared, kicking out with a flash of martial technique that had once astonished all who saw it. But Shiki, already wary, slipped back just before the strike connected.

Before this girl—this girl whose agility and killing intent far surpassed human limits—even Araya Souren felt the stirrings of fear.

And so, abandoning the clash altogether, he erased himself. His form dissolved, vanishing from the battlefield.

For only an instant, Shiki froze in surprise. Then her lips curled into a cold smile. She crouched low at the apartment’s edge—then leapt.

“You’re not getting away.”

Like a pale butterfly, her figure flashed against the night sky, white and luminous.

At the same time, under Araya’s command, the entire building began to tremble violently. He had chosen destruction. If the bounded field collapsed, Shiki would be crushed within it.

But what he had never expected—was that this frail, human girl would hurl herself from the tenth floor without hesitation. That she would dive after him, like a phantom born to haunt the void.

“Ryougi—Shiki!!”

Araya’s bellow split the night.

But before his cry had even faded, her blade had already pierced his body. Blood erupted from his lips in a crimson spray.

Crash!

Together, they plummeted dozens of meters, slamming into the dust-choked earth below. Even with the slowing effect of Araya’s stillness barrier, the impact left them both battered and broken.

“…So. That’s what it was. You leapt with the resolve to cut me even if it meant dashing yourself against the ground? No… Even knowing it meant mutual destruction, you still would have done it, wouldn’t you?”

His voice rasped with reluctant awe.

Gazing down at the unconscious Shiki, Araya Souren—himself already little more than a corpse—murmured bitterly:

“…Like this, you finally look the part of a girl your age.”

From the shadows, footsteps echoed. Aozaki Touko’s figure emerged, calm eyes fixed upon the fallen magus. Her voice was quiet, yet unyielding.

“How pitiful, Araya. Why force yourself so far? Why cling so stubbornly to the Abyss of the Root? …Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that monk’s dream, of saving all humanity?”

Souren’s reply was as cold as stone.

“I am nothing. I only seek the conclusion. If I can affirm that humanity itself is the ugly, hopeless blight… then I can be at peace.”

Touko’s brow furrowed. “…So that’s why you sought the Root. The Akashic Records, the swirl that holds all truths. And even if it doesn’t… you could reduce everything back into nothing.”

“Exactly. Only one step remained. Only a few more steps. And yet the world denied me. Even those born with a path to it were obstructed. How grotesque—this thrashing struggle before death. Not one of them perceives the crisis of this world, and yet all unconsciously cling to survival. They ignore the rot, revel in their pleasures… but the moment something threatens the world, they instinctively reject it. Why?”

His eyes, burning with defiance, locked upon her.

“This contradiction is the essence of it. The very desire to live corrupts the prayer to live. That taint—that false hope—has always been my true enemy.”

“…The world? No, Araya. This time it wasn’t the Counter Force that stopped you. You should take pride in that—you actually outplayed it. From beginning to end, the one thing that destroyed Araya Souren… was nothing more than the love of a family called Tomoe Enjou.”

“Even then,” Araya spat, voice bitter, “it was only the hand of another fool propping up the Primates’ era. The true Tomoe Enjou would never have acted so. Don’t delude yourself. There is no such thing as familial love among humans. What they have—all they have—is the desire to keep living. He simply cloaked his ugly truth beneath something pretty, something like family love, to hide it.”

Touko’s gaze sharpened, her tone cool.

“Araya… let me tell you something. You’ve likely never heard it. A certain renowned psychologist once defined the existence of a ‘collective unconscious.’ He believed that beneath every individual’s consciousness, at the deepest layer, all minds are linked to the same lake. The consensus of primates, buried under awareness. He named it—Ālaya-vijñāna.”

“…What?”

“Strange, isn’t it, Araya Souren? The world really does enjoy its cruel little traps. So many contradictions, all swirling here… and in the end, you—the one who sought to govern it—turned out to be the greatest contradiction of all.”

Araya fell silent. The stillness dragged long. When he finally spoke, his voice was thin, breath fading.

“…This vessel has reached its limit.”

“Again? So soon?” Touko sighed. “How many times has it been now? You really don’t learn, do you?”

“…An unprepared body. Next time… not until the next century.”

“By then, there won’t even be magi left. Only loneliness will greet you. And even so—you still won’t stop?”

“Of course. I will never concede defeat.”

“…Araya. What is it you seek?”

“—True wisdom.”

“And where will you seek it?”

“—Only within myself.”

“And what is your destination?”

“You already know.” His eyes, alight with the last embers of obsession, burned into hers. “At the very end of this contradictory world… at the end of the endless spiral.”

His final words fell into the air—and the magus Araya Souren scattered like dust upon the wind.

.. . ….

The battle’s sheer ferocity, fused with such a bleak conclusion, left the audience suffocating in awe.

No other chapter of The Garden of Sinners had struck quite like this. Paradox Spiral was more than a story—it was philosophy clothed in violence, nihilism given a body. Its length dwarfed the earlier entries, its action relentless, its truths suffocating. From beginning to end, there had been no reprieve.

The density of it all left even the most critical spectators speechless, unwilling to admit it openly, but unable to dismiss what they had seen. At best, they could mutter inward complaints to themselves…

And then, just as the air hung heavy with that overwhelming silence—the final afterimage of Paradox Spiral began to play.