Ishura - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - To Darkeness Depths

Alus the Star Runner was alive.

A single wyvern, deep down in the blackness of the Mali Wastes, which had now frozen into rock-solid soil.

He’s dead, Toroa thought.

Down in the crevice, there was no water, no food, no heat, and not the slightest strand of light. It was a veritable realm of death.

If there was anyone who had fallen down to those farthest depths and was still capable of speech and movement, they couldn’t be anything other than dead, and they merely appeared to be living.

Alus the Star Runner tried to take flight with his wings, which had gone rigid from the subzero temperatures. His left wing was an inorganic metal one—an intermingling of flesh and machine.

So the Star Runner’s practically become the living dead… Like me…

Faster than Toroa’s mind could even register the motion, he had drawn his enchanted swords.

In his left hand, Mushain the Howling Blade. In his right, Wicked Sword Selfesk.

“Don’t even try it,” Alus murmured.

His similarly metallic arm grabbed the enchanted sword right in front of him—Hillensingen the Luminous Blade.

For Toroa, this was the blade that had started it all.

“You’ve stolen too much, Star Runner.”

He needed to be defeated.

Similarly to how the mere existence of the True Demon King had become too great a threat, Alus the Star Runner had to be defeated at all costs.

When Toroa’s father died, he forsook self-preservation and vowed to reclaim the Luminous Blade. For as long as he could remember, Toroa had been single-mindedly devoted to defeating the enemy before him. Now he would do exactly that.

“I—”

He saw the moment that Alus the Star Runner kicked off the ground and took to the sky.

Toroa twisted and thrust the Howling Blade skyward in an attempt to strike his aerial opponent. The violent wind sliced into the rock wall of the ravine. This was the enchanted sword’s secret technique to deny the wyvern’s flight and simultaneously crush him to death. It went by the name—

“Hrk!”

However, right when he attempted to use Mushain’s technique, Migration, Toroa jerked his body and dodged a red light speeding toward him.

A gout of flame had been shot from the eye of the violent gale.

Though he had only been grazed by the fire attack, the edges of his black clothing had been scorched, and thin wisps of smoke now trailed from them.

The flames traveled along the cliff walls as if they had a mind of their own, swallowing up large amounts of oxygen as they went. They were headed for the spot where Toroa was standing.

Alus murmured a single phrase.

“…Ground Runner.”

This was a magic item that Alus hadn’t gotten a chance to show off during his battle with Lucnoca.

A superhot flame that raced along the terrain, autonomously pursuing its targets in accordance with its owner’s will.

The violent tempest abated, allowing Alus to fly.

The musket had been trained on Toroa. The flames were quite literally in hot pursuit.

Alus the Star Runner… Back when you fought Dad, the Howling Blade was always the one you were the most cautious of. And now I see why…

Toroa the Awful widely swung the enchanted sword in his right hand.

It had no blade. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be nothing more than a hilt.

“Reverse Wing.”

Alus was utterly shaken.

He collided with the soil as if being dragged down from the heavens.

Tiny metal shards became wedged in the gaps in the mechanical parts of the wyvern’s body. This was the ability of the Wicked Sword Selfesk, a weapon with a blade consisting of numerous metal shards controlled with magnetism.

The violent gale from Migration hadn’t managed to hinder Alus’s flight. However, by making use of his enchanted swords’ techniques simultaneously, Toroa the Awful was able to manipulate the shards of Wicked Sword Selfesk like a scatter shot along the tempest winds to reach Alus.

It was a means of dragging the wyvern, rushing through the sky at ultrahigh speeds, into the range of Toroa’s blades. Only Toroa the Awful, using the combined powers of his enchanted blades simultaneously, could devise a technique so perfectly suited to taking down the Star Runner.

“I see…,” said Alus.

“You like that?! You’re not getting away this time!” Toroa yelled.

“It was you, was it…?”

Facedown on the ground, Alus was next gripped by a force rapidly drawing him toward Toroa. Using one of the wedges he had sunk into the wyvern’s flesh, Toroa was able to reel Alus in with magnetism.

In the very next moment, the Ground Runner’s flame would engulf Toroa from behind.

However, the distance between the two of them would rapidly shrink. This was drawing Alus himself into its trajectory, too. As long as Toroa had the Howling Blade in his left hand, he didn’t have to worry about gunfire, even at point-blank range. In which case—

You drew your sword, did you?

The short-bladed weapon Alus the Star Runner had unsheathed was a thrusting sword with a perpendicular cross guard. At that moment, robbed of his freedom of movement and hurtling toward Toroa at high speed, he sought to cross blades with the enchanted swordsman head-on.

Meanwhile Toroa the Awful had ropes, chains, hinge mechanisms, and more. He was ready for anything, and he had an enchanted sword to respond to any tactic an enemy employed.

No!

He couldn’t switch to a different magic sword. With this snap judgment, Toroa used only the Howling Blade to smack down Alus’s sword as it swooped in with a shriek.

It wasn’t that Alus had resolved to fight at close range. This blade was an enchanted sword that could fly at will.

“Trembling Bird.”

The distance between them had shrunk.

In that moment, when Toroa was forced to spare one hand for defense, Alus closed the gap.

“Nhn…!”

“Hillensingen the Luminous Blade—”

“Mi…gration!”

His movements to defend against Trembling Bird were themselves a secret technique. The violent gale raged as it was released from the Howling Blade’s downward stroke. As he staved off the flaming pursuit of the Ground Runner, Toroa sent the hilt of Selfesk flying. Alus’s flight trajectory was thrown off, and he collided into the rock wall along with the Luminous Blade. The destructive beam of light it released sliced through the dark abyss.

The magnetic blade drew its opponent in. A mysterious blade cut unseen. The Luminous Blade delivered instant death. The special ability of the Howling Blade allowed the wielder to defend themselves, and then the magnetic blade drew the foe in once more.

This back-and-forth happened in the blink of an eye. And in an instant, the tables turned.

“It’s…mine now.”

Alus the Star Runner, embedded into the cliff face, had the enchanted sword’s hilt gripped with his third arm.

The apex adventurer had overcome his perfect counter, the Wicked Sword Selfesk, which had so drastically hindered his flight.

“Not quite. I’m lending it to you. Just like the Luminous Blade.”

Toroa brandished an enchanted sword in each of his hands.

On the left, Mushain the Howling Blade. On the right…

“I’m going to take everything back from you.”

Trembling Bird.

In the blink of an eye, Toroa had similarly taken the enchanted sword that swooped down at him.

He was a monster of legend. Toroa the Awful could master the secret technique of every enchanted blade ever forged.

On the surface of the Mali Wastes.

Alone in the vast, white expanse was an ooze, looking like a water droplet fallen from a colossal glacier, yet to freeze over.

Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation was quietly surveying the landscape before him.

This destruction, violently changing the very weather itself, had been engraved into the land by Psianop’s round two opponent—a godlike dragon, Lucnoca the Winter, the living legend who had defeated the legend slayer, Alus the Star Runner.

A single breath was unleashed upon the valley. Lucnoca had built it up in midair.

The ravaged land spoke intricate details of her raw power, the trajectory of her attacks, her positioning, and more. Though Psianop hadn’t been present to witness the battle himself, the scene before him painted a vivid picture.

Was it truly necessary for her to suspend her massive body in midair, all for her dragon breath, which barely needs a single word to release…? Impossible. There must’ve been a separate reason that Lucnoca stopped moving.

This stretch of earth was riddled with massive fissures. They were geographical evidence of the numerous, now-dry canals that once had nourished the land.

Here…Alus the Star Runner hid himself in this fissure, so Lucnoca’s sights would’ve been pointing downward. Not only that, but with the way this crevice is positioned…

It had been said that Alus the Star Runner was the fastest flyer in the world, his aerial speed surpassing that of even dragons.

…he could’ve maneuvered behind Lucnoca.

In which case, he must have pulled off the extremely dangerous feat of flying freely through these deep, dark, labyrinthine fissures and used them to sneak around underground.

Alus’s magic item restricted Lucnoca from behind. She launched her breath out in front of her, without looking back at it whatsoever. Everything froze. The extreme gap in atmospheric pressure dragged Alus into Lucnoca’s range of attack. She swiped with her claws. He used a defensive magic item, or perhaps evaded it by coincidence… Whatever the case, it led to Alus being quite literally grounded.

Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation didn’t possess any supernatural senses like Soujirou the Willow-Sword or Kuuro the Cautious. He merely speculated on the actions in the battle by using an extensive amount of battle theory, based on his knowledge and experiences.

By studying the end result, he could find the most logical course of events that led them to the battle’s conclusion.

From there, the breath attack aimed straight downward.

Psianop looked down at the ground he stood upon. Likely owing to the abnormal condensation nearly bringing it to its physical limits, this spot on the ground had collapsed into a cone shape. It resembled the crater left behind by a meteor strike, about four kilometers in diameter.

Far too massive.

The battle continued even after this. The reactive capabilities of someone who had faced a great many legends…and had grown after each fight. Even after being ravaged by a violent tempest, Alus the Star Runner had survived.

Currently, Alus the Star Runner’s body was half machine.

A magic item of immortality, multiplying within the body, imitating an organism, and maintaining constant functionality without even requiring biological activity. It was called Chiklorakk the Eternity Machine.

However, even when its original owner, Vikeon the Smoldering, had been heavily wounded by Alus the Star Runner’s assault, rendered unable to fight, the dragon hadn’t made use of the magic item himself.

“It’s mine. Mine… Mine…”

Alus’s present state was the result of this item’s influence.

It would replace lost sections of the physical body with machinery and maintain the same functionality as before these sections had been lost, but anyone who underwent this change was certainly not the same living creature they had once been. Though they lived, they would rapidly begin to lose their will. Before long, they would lose everything that made them an organic being and soon be reduced to a mindless machine.

This was true even for the strongest of all wyverns. Though the injuries he had sustained in the second match had been completely healed by the power of the magic item, Alus hadn’t been able to budge deep in the abyss.

Before encountering Toroa, he had been unable to remember anything.

He was Alus the Star Runner, and yet he wasn’t.

For Toroa, who had only ever dreamed of defeating him, this was a cruel sight.

Though he may be in this sorry state, one thing that hasn’t changed.

A lot of space had opened up between himself and Alus. Their last clash had decimated the land itself. There had been a drastic shift in momentum, and the enchanted swordsman Toroa had no means of closing the gap.

Alus the Star Runner had a musket in one hand. In another, he held Hillensingen the Luminous Blade. Finally, in his third hand, he had Wicked Sword Selfesk, stolen from Toroa moments ago.

All of the wyvern’s hands were occupied.

Alus never lets go of any treasure he gets his hands on!

Toroa took a giant step forward. He thrust Trembling Bird sharply out in front of him, far out of range for his attack to reach—he rotated his torso. Hinges worked together, traveling along the steel wires, and then—

Faster than Alus could swing Wicked Sword Selfesk, the base of his wing was completely run through—the attack had come from over twenty meters away.

“Peck!”

The enchanted sword in Toroa’s right hand had been swapped out for a different sword. Deceiving Alus by feinting a thrust with Trembling Bird, he used the steel wire and hinges to exchange it for another.

The Divine Blade Ketelk. A secret technique that utilized the enchanted swords extending slashes to send out a long-range thrust at the opponent.

Since Alus the Star Runner was already familiar with this technique, Toroa had fired it at him without revealing his intentions.

Despite his wing being shot through, Alus sent the wedges of Wicked Sword Selfesk flying. Toroa saw several of them become embedded into the rock wall. What was terrifying was Alus’s level of aptitude with the blade. There wasn’t anyone else who could control an enchanted sword they had just held for the first time with such finesse—other than Toroa the Awful, that is.

“You were testing that brand-new enchanted sword, huh?”

“Wicked Sword Selfesk. M-my…my treasure…”

“Migration!”

Stepping forward and then turning, Toroa slashed wide. The Howling Blade swallowed the air and whipped the Ground Runner’s flames into its violent gale. He then rerouted the attack, and the flames, destructive enough to burn down an entire nation, toward Alus.

“You can handle that much just fine, I bet… So have this, too.”

If it was possible to control the wind, it was possible to control flames.

Mid-rotation, Toroa the Awful drew Nel Tseu the Burning Blade.

Ground Runner.

Rising heat. Tempest winds.

“Gathering Clouds.”

An explosive flame erupted from the Mali Wastes fissure, high enough to reach the clouds.

The ice on the ground evaporated. Jet-black smoke formed a deathly domain that swallowed even the darkness of the earthen abyss.

The impact was intense enough to shatter bones and rupture organs.

This was the ultimate ability of Nel Tseu the Burning Blade, a technique he had held back during the first match out of worry for the town around him.

The furious updraft generated by the temperature difference between earth and sky cleared away the black smoke.

A wyvern silhouette. This adventurer possessed a magic item of absolute defense.

“Greatshield of the Dead…”

Alus brandished the Greatshield of the Dead and moved to counterattack.

The figure of the grim reaper was right before his eyes.

“Not good enough.”

Just as he had done once before, in the eye of the Particle Storm…

…Toroa the Awful plunged headfirst into the hellish fireball.

But how could he grasp Alus’s position while his vision was obscured by the black smoke?

The answer came when a blade, connected by a chain, was plunged into Alus’s arm, the one that held Wicked Sword Selfesk.

It was an enchanted sword that would automatically respond to moving objects and then counterattack.

Toroa murmured its name.

“Lance of Faima.”

The next slash rushed in from the opposite direction.

The arm holding the Greatshield of the Dead had been completely severed.

The instant Alus’s attention had shifted to the Lance of Faima, Toroa the Awful slashed at him with the enchanted sword in his left hand. Vajgir the Frostvenom Blade infected its target with corrosive ice crystals.

In a close-quarters battle of enchanted swords, there was no warrior who could surpass Toroa the Awful.

“There is no shield that will protect you from Vajgir.”

Toroa had constantly, even in his dreams, thought only of one day killing the strongest of all wyverns. He would need the perfect strategy to seize this impressive enemy, flying at ultrahigh speeds, wielding magic items innumerable, and capable of withstanding even the most lethal attack against him.

He sought out a means from the voices of the enchanted swords, to defeat a foe even his father hadn’t been able to beat.

Unable to save his father, Toroa believed this was the last thing he had to do—his sovereign duty.

“Ahh… The Greatshield…of the Dead’s…” murmured Alus.

“That’s right. You’ve lost that, too,” said Toroa.

This wasn’t the first time Toroa the Awful had fought against Alus the Star Runner.

However, this was the first time Alus the Star Runner was fighting against this Toroa the Awful.

“You’re going to die.”

And then…

Let’s rewind the hands of time.

“Alus the Star Runner… I can’t believe it. You’re…still alive!”

Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation, having analyzed Lucnoca the Winter’s fight up until moments prior, was genuinely flabbergasted.

The ooze’s amorphous body didn’t appear to contain any organs that allowed him movement, let alone swift movement, yet he flew over the complex terrain at terrifying speeds. He fluidly adjusted his center of gravity, his agility resembling a flow of water with a mind of its own.

A sound that the howling winds nearly drowned out. A rumbling from the very core of the world.

Even this was enough for Psianop to comprehend the tremendous abnormality.

There was a battle underway at the Mali Wastes. One between two of the most frightening monsters in the land.

There were still over ten kilometers between Psianop and his destination.

With his speed, it would take no time at all to cover that much ground. Nevertheless, given the combatants, the outcome would be decided far before Psianop could intervene.

“Toroa the Awful… This was your intention from the very beginning, wasn’t it…?!”

From the slightest ground tremors and air currents transmitted across the still wastes, he could predict a fight to the death in the bowels of the planet.

Ground Runner raced along the rock wall. It reversed course to appear behind Toroa. Wind, huh? Must have blocked it with the enchanted wind sword. But that was to give Alus an opportunity to act. Toroa is…

The fire rushed, the wind deflected it, and even high above on the surface, there was a faint change in the air pressure.

This conflict… If this is all supposed to be for revenge, then it is a fruitless endeavor.

There came a concussive blast.

An explosion of flame erupted from an earthen fissure far out on the horizon, as if part of an active volcano.

It was the technique Psianop had witnessed on that day. The secret enchanted sword technique combining Nel Tseu the Burning Blade with Mushain the Howling Blade, Gathering Clouds.

When he had looked at Toroa the Awful during their carriage ride, Psianop hadn’t seen any hint of rage or hatred on the dwarf’s face.

He had believed the man had successfully managed to escape from the spiral of shura killing each other in battle.

“Toroa the Awful! You…aren’t supposed to fight…!”

I pierced his wing. I restrained one limb and severed another. I infected him with venomous ice crystals.

These weren’t Toroa’s thoughts. They were combat judgments that came in a flash, guided by his instincts.

I cut down the Greatshield of the Dead. He only has his musket and Wicked Sword Selfesk left. He can’t use them at this range. He won’t have the opportunity to change his equipment again.

Faster than his own instincts could process his next action, Toroa’s moved to cut off Alus’s head.

However, the Howling Blade’s slash…

I missed…

…through the wyvern’s skin severed his carotid artery and dug into the flesh beneath. He had felt the blow. Too shallow. It hadn’t reached the bone.

Alus had moved—without using his wings, or his forelimbs—toward the upper rock wall.

The wyvern’s mouth quietly muttered.

“Wicked Sword Selfesk…”

He applied magnetic force to the wedges embedded in the wall.

Toroa had understood he could evade attacks this way. More than that, it was a technique that Toroa the enchanted swordsman knew for himself. He had rejected the possibility because from that range, it would’ve been far too late to dodge.

“Why don’t you die?” puzzled Toroa.

“……Good question…” Alus replied.

Cling, clank.

With an unpleasant creaking sound, his severed forelimbs, the nearly severed base of his wing, and his mostly severed neck had been replaced with microscopic machines, and they were slowly healing him.

Yet there was even more unbelievable development as well.

The crystals from the frostvenom blade, which had been eating at his body, had been burned away with fire, limb and all.

This was the reason he had sent Ground Runner ahead of him.

With the flames behind him, Alus murmured.

“…Consider the source; take countermeasures.”

The apex rogue’s combat judgment showed no signs of decline at all.

The farther he was pushed into a corner, the more he learned, and the more he surpassed every tactic his enemies brought against him.

“Consider the source; take countermeasures.”

“…Ah, I get it now.”

Alus the Star Runner was now immortal.

“I’m the same way… I’m trying to kill you even if I die in the process…”

Toroa was invoking the secret techniques of several enchanted swords with his entire body and soul.

He continued to battle in the depths of the frozen soil, hungrily clawing away at his opponent’s life.

His enemy alone possessed a limitless life force.

“Wouldn’t have been fair if you hadn’t done the same, hm…?”

However, right now, Toroa the Awful was truly perfect.

He had never felt stronger. This newfound strength was derived from something greater than a sense of obligation or thirst for revenge.

He was blessed with a mightier body than his father’s. Toroa had never once exhausted all his stamina. This was true even now.

“…This fight with you has been the most satisfying to date,” Alus muttered.

Even his melted forelimb was regenerating.

High in the sky, from where enchanted swords couldn’t reach, he aimed his musket.

Was there any means for Toroa’s attack to reach him?

His past opponent Psianop had seen through absolutely all of his enigmatic enchanted sword techniques and had demonstrated he could run up through the air without any footing. If he was going to kill Alus the Star Runner, Toroa would have to do the same.

“…It’s been a long time, Toroa the Awful…”

These words must have come from the remnants of Alus’s hazy consciousness.

Was that truly how he felt?

If so, that would make Toroa happy.

From here on, he was going to fight in a way that didn’t resemble his father in the slightest.

“With all my swords, I’ll cut you down.”

He took a long, deep breath.

Toroa the Awful stabbed into the ground with enchanted swords in both hands and both feet.

Like the limbs of an insect.

While he was receiving medical treatment after the first match, Toroa had spoken a lot with Cuneigh the Wanderer and Kuuro the Cautious. While they both said they felt indebted to him, Toroa felt he was the one who truly owed them his life, with them and the currently absent Mizial being the first friends he had ever made.

“…Do you think that some inanimate objects can think and feel, Kuuro?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“That Clairvoyance of yours can perceive things ordinary folk like us can’t even comprehend, right? I wondered, if that’s how you perceive the world, maybe you could hear the voices of, like, a shoe, or a plate, or a sword.”

“C’mon, you’re talking crazy here.”

Kuuro strained a smile, looking exasperated, and appeared to have interpreted Toroa’s words as a joke.

“Objects are objects. Of course, every sort of material out there can give off some odd bit of sound or light, and my Clairvoyance will grant me information on an object, such as what it is or where it is… But you’re asking if I can hear the voices of objects?”

“Well, actually…I’ve heard a voice before.”

“…Oh?”

“It’s true.”

Could the idea of enchanted swords possessing wills of their own have been nothing more than a myth?

Toroa would be lying if he said he had never doubted it before.

In the middle of the first match, Toro the Awful had practically become possessed by his blades.

He surrendered his body to the influence flowing into him, becoming a mythical beast of slaughter.

However, if this was a concept that even Kuuro the Cautious couldn’t comprehend, perhaps enchanted swords had never possessed wills of their own, and all of it had simply been the impulses Toroa himself contained from the very start.

They discussed it all with each other.

“That’s totally not right!” Cuneigh objected, leaning her body forward from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I mean, you saved Kuuro back then, right?! There’s no way that someone who saved someone else, when they were in the most danger of all, could be a bad person!”

“…That’s not true. I’m a murderer.”

He had killed the bandits who’d come to steal his enchanted swords. They were opponents he should have been able to incapacitate without killing. But the next time similar adversaries came along, he couldn’t stop himself from taking their lives.

Above all, during his match, Toroa had fought with the intention of killing Psianop. The reason he was able to end the match without killing his opponent was because he hadn’t known that Psianop was capable of using Life Arts that completely regenerated his body.

Psianop must have felt Toroa’s bloodlust for himself, too. Even then, he had been able to settle the match without taking Toroa’s life. It had been a total defeat for Toroa.

“Alus the Star Runner’s dead, too. From here on, I won’t need to fight in any battles with my enchanted blades… But I’m afraid that if a day comes when I need to wield them again, I may be overcome with the desire.”

“Toroa, I’ve learned a great many things about the brain and its perceptions. I’ve investigated every avenue at my disposal for the sake of learning about my own power of Clairvoyance,” Kuuro began. “There’s apparently a nerve in the brain that serves as a behavioral mirror.”

“A behavioral mirror?”

“This function allows one to understand the actions of another as if they were carrying out the actions themselves. Animal offspring will acquire their own patterns of behavior by imitating the actions of other members of their group. If one were to develop this nerve to an extreme degree…they might be able to intuit a first-time opponent’s thought patterns as if they were their own, even faster than their mind could process, or grant one the ability to perfectly replicate a technique they’d seen only once before.”

“Imitation. You’re saying that’s what’s truly happening in those instances?”

He recalled his battles against Mestelexil and Psianop.

They were powerful foes he had been unable to kill even after drawing out the near-limited potential of his enchanted blades.

Still, it was because of such opponents that Toroa had finally been able to experience a lengthy battle. He had been able to watch his opponent’s fighting style from up close and imagine what their next move might be.

“…Hmm. It might be fine to express it as a kind of ‘notion’ or ‘idea.’ The basis for sympathy lies in imitation, after all. By constantly imagining what your opponent’s thinking, you can understand what they’re thinking and where their thoughts are going to lead them next.”

“If that’s your explanation, then what about the enchanted swords’ voices? Nerves can’t explain that.”

“I wonder. When it comes to sympathizing with magic items…there’s a lot of uncertainty. For example, there are some that can be manipulated through the thoughts of the user alone. If these items had wills of their own, you’d definitely be able to pick up on that; that’s for sure.”

“…”

“Even putting that aside, you’re able to read how you need to handle a sword, whether it’s from its shape, or its center of gravity, to unleash its absolute maximum power. You might be subconsciously perceiving how the previous owners of the enchanted swords used them from the slightest frays of the sheath or placement of the nicks on the blade. Maybe you’re using that information to better understand the one who forged the blade and the ones who wielded it?”

“I’m not sure I’m even capable of something like that…”

“Or maybe, in a more direct way, you saw someone using the secret techniques of your enchanted swords before.”

“……”

He wasn’t Toroa the Awful.

Ultimately, he had been able to tell this truth to Mizial and Mizial only.

“Toroa, kindness stems from having a great amount of empathy for beings other than yourself. There’s even the chance that an excessive amount of it will end up overwriting your own will. It’s certainly a risky power to have, but…”

He could take the empathy that he’d been gifted for the sake of saving others and use it to kill them instead.

“Even my Clairvoyance can’t see through the realm of the heart.”

The enchanted sword mountain was moving.

Alus the Star Runner looked down on it with vague thoughts.

Treasure.

It was either an enemy protecting the treasure, or perhaps the treasure itself, and he would need to defeat his enemy to obtain this mountain of enchanted swords for himself. As he had always done.

“Wicked Sword…Selfesk.”

He murmured the name of the enchanted sword in his hand. In response to Alus’s thoughts, the countless shards began stabbing into the rock wall in a line. Come to think of it, there was once a time when he had hunted this enchanted sword.

He couldn’t recall just how long ago it had been, but even back then, the enemy before him had gotten to it first.

“…Toroa the Awful.”

He had mumbled the name several times at that point, but Alus wasn’t aware of the fact.

Each time he traced his memories of enchanted swords, he would remember that this enemy of his was Toroa the Awful.

Whenever he traveled the skies in pursuit of treasure, Alus would try to take an enchanted sword for himself, yet the shadow of this man was always there.

The enchanted swords Alus the Star Runner managed to keep for himself numbered only two, Trembling Bird and Hillensingen the Luminous Blade.

And now…

“…Toroa.”

…he would have them all.

Without really knowing where he was, or even what he was doing, Alus had that alone as the only certainty in his mind.

Alus loaded his lightning bullet.

“Give them…to me… Now…”

Like a drill from the heavens piercing the earth, lightning crashed down from the sky.

Light. Sound. Destruction.

The terrain crumbled and broke.

The phenomenon the magic bullet wrought was truly like lightning itself.

“Gngh, lrngh.”

Alus heard the growl coming from above him.

His eyes beheld…the limbs of an insect? Mushain the Howling Blade. Vajgir the Frostvenom Blade. Nel Tseu the Burning Blade. Inrate the Sickle of Repose.

Spreading out the abnormal number of enchanted swords in a radial pattern, Toroa the Awful instantly reached his current position.

…An updraft…

Even through hazy thoughts, Alus the Star Runner’s staggering amount of combat experience allowed him to understand the situation.

A tremendous air current was generated from the massive explosion that came in their last clash, erupting from the superheated depths to the frozen surface above. Riding that turbulent wind…and adjusting his trajectory with the Howling Blade, had he changed the topography of the land?

On top of it, the updraft continued to throw Alus the Star Runner’s greatest asset, his flying ability, into disarray.

“Graaawl!”

Toroa’s entire body twisted in midair, and he brought the explosive heat hurtling downward. The Burning Blade was out of control.

Explosion. Explosion. Explosion. Explosion.

The terrain was hollowed out. The sky burned. Destruction rained over the land like a meteor shower.

Alus’s body contorted as he evaded the lethal heat wave.

The magnetic force of the Wicked Sword Selfesk could instantly pull Alus’s own body to the points where the metallic wedges were embedded in the cliff face. He had accounted for this.

Clinging to the wall, Alus was now able to line up a shot at Toroa from a stable position. After Toroa had jumped into the air, what came next was his descent. It was only natural.

“Ngh!”

A shock hit Alus’s body. Wailsever. There was interference coming from the vibrations of the crystal blade.

His musket’s aim strayed ever so slightly. Toroa continued his descent…

“…………”

…and the trajectory of his fall changed in midair.

As if bounding through the air with some invisible force, occasionally kicking off the rock wall, he came for Alus like a flying insect of nightmare.

“Gwarrrrrrrrngh!”

Counteraction.

Alus the Star Runner would have found it difficult to believe his eyes even if he had been fully lucid.

A long-range thrust and lunging slash with Divine Blade Ketelk.

Toroa, using the counteraction from the long-range attack, was kicking the stone wall while in midair. His bizarre emergence from moments ago similarly couldn’t be explained merely by propelling himself up the wall with his kicks. Toroa had used this technique at the same time and gotten above Alus the Star Runner.

The enchanted swordsman was fighting a midair battle.

It was abnormal.

Propelled by a beast-like instinct, he made rapid and simultaneous use of his magic swords’ secret techniques.

“Gwar, hraaah!”

“Rotting Soil Su—”

Before he could make use of the magic item resembling a lump of mud, the Howling Blade’s gale slammed Alus into the cliff. His bones shattered. Alus activated Wicked Sword Selfesk’s magnetic force. He didn’t move.

The arm gripping the sword’s hilt was entangled by a chain.

This was Toroa the Awful’s enchanted sword that autonomously pursued its target—Lance of Faima. It possessed the ability to release incredibly fast vibrations. With its chain wrapped around Alus’s arm, the vibrations caused the metal to shred Alus’s flesh away.

“Ha, ha-ha, gwa-ha ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Not unlike the wings of an insect, this was known as flapping.

While Alus held the Wicked Sword Selfesk in a mechanical arm, this enchanted sword’s technique was more than enough to sever its structure and completely destroy it.

“Gwaaaarllll!”

As they descended together, Toroa bound Alus’s neck with his chain, crushing it with a sneer.

Though it was only a second until they crashed to the ground, he managed to stab Alus at least four times with the Frostvenom Blade.

Even then, the blades of mud coming from behind them repeatedly stabbed into Toroa’s upper arm and back, running him through until they pierced his stomach. As Toroa laughed, he coughed up an immense amount of blood. The binds on Alus loosened.

Rotting Soil Sun, which molded and shot bullets of hardened mud, was the magic item Alus had deployed with the intention of raining down death on Toroa as they fell together. Using his enemy’s massive frame as a shield, Alus narrowly avoided the blindly fired metal blades.

“…Consider the source; take countermeasures.”

Riding the air current, he ascended once more.

Toroa the Awful continued to descend alone, spraying fresh blood as he went.

“There have been many others…who’ve risen over me before.”

His consciousness was fading.

Perhaps that wasn’t it, and it was returning to him.

Toroa the Awful was laid out on his back, with both his hands thrown up into the air.

His entire body had been impaled. He had slammed violently against the ground.

His limbs had been singed in the aftermath of the Burning Blade’s rampage, and his extraordinary rapid-fire usage of Divine Blade Ketelk had pushed it so hard that the sword itself was close to disintegrating.

If this had been an official match, he would have been judged the loser. Alus the Star Runner likely believed that he had killed Toroa.

Indeed, the wounds he had suffered were near fatal.

After all, these are just techniques borrowed from another.

He recalled what Psianop had said to him before.

The skills of a beast who abandoned himself and succumbed to the will of the blades hadn’t been enough to claim true victory.

“I knew all that, though…”

This was different from back then. He knew, and he had pushed them to the limit anyway.

He opened and closed a hand.

Toroa’s body could still move.

He was strong. He was still alive. He could still fight.

Though his fighting style forced him to abandon everything but his killing instinct, he had a personal reason for getting his enchanted sword back.

“Wicked Sword Selfesk.”

The first wedge he had fired toward Alus the Star Runner was still lodged inside Alus’s mechanical body. Now that he was part machine, the wyvern likely hadn’t felt the sort of pain or discomfort an organic body would. Toroa, using his excessive stamina to maintain a nonstop onslaught, hadn’t given the world’s strongest rogue the slightest opening to take it out.

With his right hand, he activated Wicked Sword Selfesk’s magnetic force.

“…!”

The magnetism took hold of Alus the Star Runner’s body, and he plummeted to the ground below.

Gunshot retribution. A thunderous magic bullet that winds couldn’t deflect.

However, it didn’t directly hit him.

A wedge from Wicked Sword Selfesk, under Toroa’s control, acted as a lightning rod and guided it away.

“…So, you’re still alive…”

“That’s right. However many times it takes…and however many more after that…I’m dragging you down to the depths of hell with me…Alus the Star Runner!”

From the skies above, more of Rotting Soil Sun’s earthen blades fell toward him. Toroa had barely managed to raise his upper body off the ground, but the wedges of Wicked Sword Selfesk flew about at high speeds and repelled all the mud.

Just as he’d calculated, Rotting Soil Sun’s position couldn’t be changed. Toroa could easily deal with attacks coming at him from the front.

Nevertheless, Alus the Star Runner was a rogue wielding a limitless supply of magical items.

The flame’s coming.

Ground Runner. Alus had devoted his extra limb to dealing with this flame running along the ground. Thus, Toroa aimed for the chance to deliver the fatal blow.

The glint of light was rapidly closing in. The heat encroached on Toroa’s face.

However, the flame, seemingly about to consume Toroa as he sat unable to stand, suddenly spread out on either side and stopped.

As if the terrain had been a cliff face, unconnected to what was ahead of it.

“…Karmic Castigation.”

A single-edged sword with a curved blade. A very delicate subspace sword, not suited for combat.

It left behind spatial fissures along the surface of any material it sliced.

He had experienced Ground Runner’s attack several times by now. It was a magic item that sent flames racing along terrain. Taking this into consideration, Toroa then understood that it couldn’t traverse over gaps in terrain.

Strangely enough, much like how Mele the Horizon’s Roar tried to stop Shalk the Sound Slicer in the seventh match by destroying the terrain itself, Tora the Awful had stopped the Ground Runner’s flames with the slightest spatial severance.

Alus the Star Runner descended.

Toroa the Awful watched him from the ground below.

Both fighters were rapidly approaching each other.

“Venom shot.”

“Migration.”

The attacks were simultaneous.

The deadly bullet Alus fired, aimed with precision at Toroa’s body, even as he was drawn in and unable to move freely, ultimately had its path thrown off by the enchanted wind sword’s secret technique, deployed with a twist of Toroa’s upper body, and landed on the earth.

The violent gust threw off Alus’s flight position even more. Twisting into a tailspin, the wyvern ended up with his back to Toroa. Toroa could see one of his three arms attempting to reach for the Luminous Blade.

“Kylse ko khnmy.” (From Alus to Nimi gravel.)

Word Arts.

What was his aim in a situation like that? Even if he did unsheathe the Luminous Blade from his current position, buffeted by wind and magnetic force, he would never outpace Toroa’s sword skills. What was he doing?

Alus’s body was closing in. Toroa could cut him down.

Toroa had no time to spare.

“Konaue ko.” (Trickling water.)

“……”

Toroa swung Karmic Castigation.

It wasn’t at Alus. He swung down to his right. Aiming at the ground.

“Kastgraim.” (Pierce.)

The needle, instantly formed from the poison bullet, was stopped by the blade of Karmic Castigation.

Craft Arts. If there was any focal point with a reliable position that Alus could confidently use for his Word Arts in this situation, the only option was the very bullet he had just fired.

The single second when the needle was blocked gave Alus the Star Runner more than enough time to readjust and right his positioning.

The strongest enchanted sword of all, prohibiting any sort of defenses when inside its reach…

“Hillensingen…”

“Inrate…”

The same moment he intercepted the needle, Toroa swung the halberd in his right hand.

The longest enchanted sword, shaped like a poleax, even then was too slow to stop the Luminous Blade.

“…the Luminous…”

“…the Sickle of…”

“…Bla—”

There was the sound of fire.

The ultimate enchanted sword, piercing and severing all defenses in its path the moment it was unsheathed, was sent flying faster than it could be drawn by some invisible force.

“…Repose and—”

Inrate the Sickle of Repose. Hanging on the tip of its scythe blade was yet another enchanted sword.

“Divine Blade Ketelk.”

This wasn’t a secret technique of any kind. It was the Divine Blade Ketelk’s most basic ability—elongated slashes.

There were two enchanted swords that Toroa had unsheathed in that moment. Using the tip of Inrate the Sickle of Repose with its long hilt, he handled Divine Blade Ketelk with even more acrobatic movements. Using the elongated slash and extending it even farther, he had knocked down the Luminous Blade before Alus could draw it. Could even Soujirou the Willow-Sword possibly perform such a feat?

Against the mightiest enchanted sword that rendered defense impossible, he simply needed to cut down his foe before they drew it.

“Don’t think you’ll be able to best an enchanted swordsman with an enchanted sword of your own.”

As the Luminous Blade was swung, Alus and Toroa passed by each other. The Lance of Faima was reacting.

His father’s life, taken from him that day. Retrieving the enchanted sword of light had been his earnest wish.

Toroa reached out his hand. In order to reclaim the enchanted sword, he had needed to take his hand off another.

I’m not letting anyone else take this from me.

The enchanted sword that would let Toroa the Awful stop being Toroa.

Please let me finish this.

At last, he grabbed the falling Hillensingen, the enchanted sword of light.

At the same moment, there was a sharp pain from his shoulder down his back. Metal claws.

His muscles were deeply rent, his veins torn away, and his red-hot vitality was slowly being taken away from him.

No price was too steep for the recovery of the Luminous Blade.

Ahh.

The mud blades from Rotting Soil Sun, now free to find their mark, once again gained momentum and swooped down on Toroa. He slashed with the enchanted wind sword to clear them away, but even with it, there were blades that pierced into his flesh. Swapping out Wicked Sword Selfesk, he couldn’t control Alus’s movements.

He had thought he could fully handle all of the wyverns’ limitless magic items. In truth, Toroa had just done that.

However, there was still one more weapon left over in his enemy’s arsenal.

The rogue’s bare hands.

What would his next move be? How much longer could he continue to fight?

The majority of his insides were eviscerated. Even his extraordinary physical stamina was reaching its limit. His consciousness was fading, and the cold of the earthen depths seeped into the bottom of his lungs.

“Hmph.”

He laughed with a sigh.

“Alus…Alus the Star Runner. I always have nightmares. Nightmares where I fight you, and I’m killed.”

He knew his voice might not reach his opponent.

Even then, Toroa continued to speak.

“In my desperate fight to the death, I tried to live on. I… Toroa the Awful was searching for the possibility of surviving and going back home. I was always fighting, even in my dreams… I’ve continued to think solely of ways to kill you.”

The fissure in the frozen soil of the Mali Wastes had now been etched with ruptures and destruction on par with the terrain on the surface.

A storm, just like the Particle Storm that day—or perhaps even more intense—continued to rage between the two shura.

“But I wonder why…?”

Vengeance for the father he thought had died—or perhaps vengeance for himself—still lived within him.

His father’s nemesis, thought to be long dead… Though perhaps Alus was his nemesis now.

Toroa had believed that a fiercer, uncontrollable darkness had taken root in his soul. To take revenge for his father. To reclaim his own life. To be stirred by the impulses of the enchanted swords.

“Alus the Star Runner. I feel that…I have a different reason for wanting to kill you.”

Was there anyone who could kill Alus the Star Runner as he was now?

He had a magic item that would regenerate his body, even after his neck had been almost completely sliced through. Even against Vajgir the Frostvenom Blade, which extinguished lives slowly over time, Alus was able to freely move the portions of his body that sprouted deadly crystals.

There may have been a critical point that served as the magic item’s core, but Toroa the Awful didn’t have the sort of sixth sense that would let him see through to it. There didn’t appear to be anything like it, either, judging from Alus the Star Runner’s behavior.

Nevertheless.

…I can kill him for good.

As was true for the other enchanted swords, Karmic Castigation had a secret technique of its own.

It was an enchanted sword that made minute, incorporeal cracks across the surface of whatever it slashed, spatially rupturing it.

It then pried open those minute spatial ruptures and created a trench that expelled it from this very world—it was called “Beak.”

Anything that fell into one of the tiny spatial rifts would never be able to return from whence it came.

“All right. This is where it really kicks off.”

Though the moment was long enough for a only few deep breaths, it was enough rest for both of Toroa’s legs. He could stand again.

Stepping firmly on the ground, he could use the enchanted sword’s secret technique.

He had been blessed with incredible tenacity from birth, the ultimate sword skills from the parent who had raised him.

It’s not over yet. These wounds are nothing. I’m still fully conscious. My organs are only a bit injured, my bones aren’t broken, and all my tendons are still intact. I’m only just getting warmed up.

Hillensingen the Luminous Blade.

The ultimate enchanted sword, which he had long searched for, was finally in Toroa’s hand.

This had been the sovereign duty that Toroa, the enchanted blade beast, could not die without completing.

Now that he had recovered it…

“Time to go all out.”

“……”

For that brief interval, Alus the Star Runner made no move to attack Toroa.

He was staring up at the sky beyond the edge of the cliffs.

“…There was something…” Alus murmured.

The one who had possessed more than anyone else now had lost absolutely everything.

At the edge of an isolated, frozen hell, he faced off against the monstrous Toroa.

“…I needed to do. I collected everything…for that purpose.”

“I gleaned as much.”

Karmic Castigation was stabbed into the earth. A crevice, threatening to swallow Toroa’s opponent whole, yawned wide.

The deep black crevice seemed almost like a path through the underworld connecting Alus and Toroa.

“Alus the Star Runner, you don’t have anything like that anymore.”

“…I do.”

“You no longer need to take from others. You could even head back to your homeland and live out your remaining days in peace and quiet. This…”

Toroa wondered just how strong the influence of a magic item could be.

Treasures that had consumed an innumerable number of lives and hearts.

They each possessed too many such treasures.

“…This ends here. It ends with us.”

“It’s my treasure.”

Ground Runner’s flame had returned to Alus and settled into the small pot that was meant to contain it. It appeared he had already collected Rotting Soil Sun as well. The metallic wedges which were stuck into his body must have fallen out during the previous clash.

Toroa could sense that another flurry of magical item attacks was fast approaching. Alus would send both Ground Runner and Rotting Soil Sun to hit him directly this time, without driving them across the terrain. Or like when he battled against Toroa’s father, he could use the flash of the flame to momentarily blind him.

Toroa was confident. This next clash of theirs would be the last.

“Come, Alus the Star Runner! This ends now!”

Alus kicked off the ground and flew into the air.

Though Karmic Castigation carved a deep fissure into the earth, it didn’t hinder Alus the Star Runner’s fighting ability in the slightest.

This rogue’s strengths had been his magic items and his rifle attacks from the skies. His one-sided barrage had left no room for counterattack.

Toroa needed it to be this way.

Just as Alus took off from the ground, the area right above his head became a true blind spot. Without a sound, a short sword fell.

“…Trembling Bird!”

Skewering Alus’s torso, it pinned him to the surface. This was Trembling Bird’s true secret technique.

“Harrier!”

If the wielder of the blade knew nothing of its unique characteristics, its hidden potential, the sword would remain silent. But in the hands of Toroa, it sliced through the air with a shriek.

C’mon move! Kuuro the Cautious protected these legs, didn’t he?!

Even with blood gushing from his wounds, Toroa ran, tracing the spatial fissure carved into the surface. Trembling Bird’s secret technique was a surprise attack he could use only once. In the brief moment he was able to stop Alus’s flight, he needed to close the distance and cut him down.

Merely knocking him down into the fissure would never be enough to kill Alus. If the magic item really did make him immortal, he wouldn’t have needed to dodge and defend.

Nel Tseu the Burning Blade. Mushain the Howling Blade.

“Gathering Clouds! Migra—”

Yet Toroa stopped just before launching the attacks, using the combined incinerating techniques of wind and explosive flame. The moment he touched the Howling Blade’s hilt, he could tell the sword’s center of gravity had shifted ever so slightly.

Mud.

In that midair clash, Alus had deployed Rotting Soil Sun at point-blank range against the Howling Blade. Right after reclaiming the Luminous Blade, Toroa had defended against the barrage of mud shards with the Howling Blade. And just before that, he had used it to deflect the magic poison bullet in order to throw Alus’s stance off.

Alus had made the mud adhere to the sword in order to delay the release of its ability by a fraction of a second—quicker than a flash of light.

All of this was premeditated in order to ensure that Toroa grabbed a different sword.

“Wicked Sword—”

As he scorched Alus with the Burning Blade’s heat wave, his other arm held Wicked Sword Selfesk.

The maneuver to effectively utilize the wedges was simultaneous assembly. The wedges that had been fired into the stone crag to provide Alus with footing peppered the Star Runner from all directions.

The metallic shards became embedded in Alus’s spread wings, and the magnetism dragged him in along with them. This was how Toroa was trying to close the distance.

Toroa couldn’t stop his forward momentum. If he stopped his legs now, they would never move again.

“You’re…different. You’re not Toroa the Awful.”

“No, I’m still Toroa the Awful!”

Alus had deployed the mud blades and Ground Runner’s flames. He lost a finger and an eye as he persisted. With his body wreathed in flames, he pushed forward. His prioritization of autonomous magic items was proof that he didn’t have any reprieve to aim his musket.

If Alus was prepared to take any attack thrown at him, Toroa had to be ready for the very same. If he took a moment to defend himself, his legs would stop entirely. He already had the enchanted sword prepped for his attack.

Don’t stop.

The enchanted sword with the farthest reach, bringing absolute death, as well as the fated start of it all.

If Dad hadn’t been a leprechaun… If his arms had been just a little bit longer and he’d been able to get to the Luminous Blade first…

“Kylse ko kyakowak.” (From Alus to the Hillensingen blade.)

An attack that needed no stance.

He had to laugh. Given that Alus the Star Runner had been in possession of the Luminous Blade all that time, of course this would be the case. He could even use it as a focus for his Word Arts.

If Dad had just had the power to shoulder several enchanted swords at once!

“Kestlek kogbakyau. Kaameksa. Koikasyaknoken. Kairokraino.” (Hail to heaven and earth. Axis is the left ear. Changing ring. Rotate.)

This wyvern was a jack of all trades, possessing an aptitude for everything. At almost the exact same moment Toroa took his next step forward, the wyvern had finished invoking his Word Arts on the Luminous Blade.

Hillensingen the Luminous Blade was moved by Alus’s Force Arts…

“The one who lost that day, Alus…”

And even then, it yielded to the skill of its wielder, Toroa.

He stepped forward.

Drawing the sword. Light. The range.

“…was you!”

The light from the sword’s slash severed Alus the Star Runner in two, vertically.

At the same time, Toroa coughed and spat up an immense amount of blood.

It was an unmatched sword stroke, completely catching the midline of his enemy.

“Koff…gahak.”

Toroa was spitting up blood. He felt a heat in his gut, as if something was invading his very nerves.

He heard a voice.

“…Magic poison bullet.”

“Ahh.”

Whatever the extent of his immortality, if he was completely cleaved in two from his head through his torso, it shouldn’t have been possible for him to speak and aim his musket to shoot Toroa.

“…I get it. Right from the start.”

The strength in his knees gave out, and he nearly collapsed.

This was the spot where Alus had let the Greatshield of the Dead fall during their first clash, when Toroa had showered the wyvern with his combined secret technique of explosive flame.

He had understood that in this position, where he could extend the arm holding the Greatshield of the Dead, he would enter the Luminous Blade’s area of effect.

Even as Toroa broke through the attacks from Rotting Soil Sun and Ground Runner, and drew the wyvern toward him, Alus never adjusted his stance to launch another attack. That was because his only aim was for Toroa to touch the magic bullet, fallen on the ground where he stood.

While Toroa tried to make Alus wary of the ground with the secret technique of Karmic Castigation, Alus did the exact opposite.

Even the successive attacks from Rotting Soil Sun and Ground Runner had merely been to turn Toroa’s attention away from the ground below and to cloud his vision.

“I get it…”

Hillensingen the Luminous Blade possessed the ultimate cutting ability. Even the Greatshield of the Dead, a tool of absolute defense, couldn’t fully guard against it. However, what Toroa had cut through after slightly piercing through this defense was the mechanical half of Alus’s body, converted by Chiklorakk the Eternity Machine.

Even now, with Chiklorakk the Eternity Machine cut from him, Alus hadn’t withered in the slightest. His judgment, his thinking, and the fighting prowess he had accumulated from repeatedly coming up with counterplans for these prolonged battles, and the growth that followed, remained truly all-powerful.

The mangled visage before Toroa was all that remained of Alus the Star Runner.

“I’ll live. I’m…I’m going to live,” Toroa murmured.

Toroa didn’t hesitate in the slightest. Using Vajgir the Frostvenom Blade, he sliced open his own stomach. The cells infected by the poison began to crystallize. Thanks to this, he gained the briefest possible moment of respite.

Now missing a finger on his right hand and unable to move it properly, he slashed.

Defeating Alus the Star Runner was all that mattered to him.

“…I know,” Alus murmured.

His whip bent, and Toroa’s right arm was severed at the elbow. This was Kio’s Hand, previously torn apart by Lucnoca. It was torn to shreds, so it could barely still be called a whip, but it was more than powerful enough to kill Toroa in his current state.

“Koff… I want…to live my life…”

He restrained Alus against the rock wall with his right shoulder, pressing all of his weight into him.

He brandished Inrate the Sickle of Repose. A silent sword. The one his father had been the most skilled with.

Alus drearily replied, “You’re not even…Toroa the Awful.”

The gunshots echoed in rapid succession. Though they were nothing but normal bullets, Toroa’s left thigh and knee were shot through.

Even then, Toroa continued slashing at Alus’s body. When he cut him open from his stomach to his hips with the sickle, the wyvern’s fleshy organs slithered out.

He lashed with the whip—Alus was trying to sever Toroa’s left arm. This was a fair trade. He thrust the crystal sword hanging from his arm, Wailsever, into Alus’s abdominal cavity.

He used this sword, with its shocks and rapid vibrations, at maximum output.

“Incubation!”

Alus the Star Runner would be blasted apart from the shock waves within his body, along with Wailsever itself.

…However, it didn’t happen.

Alus the Star Runner had three arms. With his body recovering over time, he touched the Greatshield of the Dead lying on the ground. No matter how many times Toroa put his life and body on the line to attack him, nothing would come of it. Even he understood for himself that there was no longer anything he could do.

“It’s over…and it’s the end…for you, too.”

“Not yet… It’s not over yet. My life…my life still hasn’t begun!”

Alus lashed the whip.

His right leg had been severed, but he wasn’t done yet. A leg was a small price to pay for the sake of living another second. He would keep fighting for as long as it took, even if it meant gripping an enchanted sword in his teeth.

He could no longer unleash their secret techniques, but he still had the spatial fissure he had opened up with Karmic Castigation. He just needed to grab Alus with his remaining left arm and drag him down into it.

He would be the beast of legend that dragged the villain into the abyss with him.

One more step. This will be the end of it. If I can just…kill Alus with this…

He didn’t need any glory. This wasn’t for revenge.

Toroa took pity on Alus the Star Runner.

Stuck at the bottom of an abyss without ever dying, it was as if Toroa was looking into a mirror.

He had thought that killing Alus would be the end of his days as Toroa the Awful.

He had wanted to save the wyvern, but that was out of the question now.

Toroa could fight to the bitter end. As long as he didn’t give up, he could keep fighting like a rampaging demon.

However, if they were both to become monsters and descend into the pits of hell…

Could that really be considered salvation?

I…I wanted to live out my life in the Wyte Mountains. I could’ve kept on living exactly as Dad had wanted, without harming anyone. I…the whole time.

His tears spilled over.

He had no idea when they had begun.

He was supposed to have been the monster from a horror story that brought tears to children’s eyes.

“Enchanted swords…aren’t yours…”

“……………”

Not taking from anyone, while not letting them take from him.

He knew how to break the cycle.

It was something that he was sure his father had known from the very start.

“They’re not mine, either.”

He stretched out his hand with the last of his strength, and Trembling Bird flew back into it as if it had a will of its own.

Birds. The names of the sword skills his father loved.

The young man had a gift allowing him to listen to the voices of his enchanted swords.

“You’re coming with me, huh?”

The rogue didn’t even try to take this one from him.

The colossal body of this nameless dwarf staggered and fell.

Into the abyss—together with the reclaimed Luminous Blade and all the other enchanted swords he had collected.

…Dad. I’m coming…to join you…

Into a darker, and deeper, hell than the bottom of this frozen wasteland.

This was, after all, a fitting resting place for a monster.

Twentieth Minister Hidow the Clamp, on standby in the central assembly hall, received an emergency report from the Fifth South Communications Tower.

This tower had been reserved by Hidow even before the start of the second match just in case—and to prepare for the truly worst-case scenario—and provided observation reports of the Mali Wastes region.

“I’m issuing an anti-dragon alert,” said Hidow to his attendant, the very first words out of his mouth after exiting the communications room.

“The location is the Mali Wastes. Gather every single soldier that can be deployed. They might immediately get sent out to fight, but don’t let anyone move on their own until they get the order from us. Did you prepare the line?”

“While you were receiving your report, we opened up radzio lines in the second switch room to all the rooms in the assembly hall, Master Hidow! Would you like to head there immediately?!”

“Good job. In that case, I’ll inform everyone in this building directly about the current situation! For the other Twenty-Nine in outside ministries, you’re to split up and get in contact with them. The order of priority goes Haade, Jelky, Rosclay, Flinsuda! That’s still not going to be enough for this. Reach out to Dant, Sabfom, and Cayon, too! You got that?!”

They were currently preparing themselves.

One part of the rules for this Sixways Exhibition had been decided after Hidow had introduced the idea.

Anyone who deliberately wrought destruction unrelated to the sanctioned matches and anyone who opposed Aureatia as a self-proclaimed demon king…

…was to be crushed by the remaining Hero candidates.

Before the beginning of the Sixways Exhibition, Hidow had steered the assembly meeting to decide these rules.

The “process we discussed” that Hidow had relayed during the second match referred to Rosclay the Absolute’s scheme to use these rules to dispose of threats outside of any match.

…I didn’t expect we’d be using it on this guy instead of Lucnoca the Winter.

Drawing his arms through the sleeves of his Twenty-Nine Officials overcoat, Hidow quickened his pace. A bead of cold sweat ran down his cheek.

This matter didn’t only affect him. If this enemy couldn’t be defeated, everyone would die.

Aureatia had a long, long day ahead of it.

“Alus the Star Runner is approaching from the Mali Wastes! Send an word to all hero candidates! I repeat!”

Alus the Star Runner versus Aureatia.

“Gather all the hero candidates! There’s only one enemy! Self-proclaimed demon king Alus!”