Re:Zero Kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu (LN) - Volume EX2 - Chapter 4

THE LOVE SONG OF THE SWORD DEVIL

Fourth Stanza

1

Aihiya Swamp, which occupied a large area along Lugunica’s southern frontier and formed part of its border with the Volakia Empire, was extremely dangerous territory. In the four years since the start of the civil conflict known as the Demi-human War, there had probably been no other battle on the scale of Aihiya, nor any other time when tensions had been so high.

“We’re already constantly fighting skirmishes with the Volakians. Massing this many troops on their border… I hate to think what the Empire might do if it gets skittish.”

Distant war cries echoed through the air, and the rumble of stomping feet reached them. The knights had the battlefield under their very boots, but they were tormented by impatience. The clash between the royal army and the Demi-human Alliance had already begun, but they had been ordered to hold their position.

“Being the rearguard sounds glorious, but it’s a short straw to draw.”

“Take care of who hears you say that, Razaac, sir,” one of his subordinates cautioned. The knight who had complained nodded calmly. He had previously been charged with teaching the new recruits, but as the war worsened, he had been returned to the front. As he became more renowned and more skilled with the sword, he had been given command of a squadron, but with greater responsibility came greater restrictions on his actions, and he found it boring at times.

Especially now as he turned away from the raging battle and glared in the direction of the Empire.

For the battle at Aihiya, the royal forces had been split into four armies. Three of them would engage the demi-humans, while the remaining group would continue the staring contest with the Volakian troops across the border.

“…You don’t suppose they’ll do anything, do you?”

“I doubt it. If they took advantage of the demi-humans’ actions to attack us, they would invoke the wrath of the Holy Dragon Volcanica. As long as our nation is under the protection of the Dragon, the Empire won’t move against us.”

“Then why are we standing here just looking at them?” Razaac sighed deeply. “Short straw.”

It was awful to wait, motionless, as his comrades died on the battlefield. Razaac was a knight’s knight, a man whose friends and country meant everything to him—all the more reason being here hurt his heart and niggled at his pride.

“My comrades…come home alive, if you can. If not, then at least make the final sacrifice with honor. Don’t be defeated by shameless foes who have forgotten what they owe to this kingdom, like the demi-humans.”

Razaac’s barely repressed pain could be seen on his face. His subordinate nodded at him, sympathy in his eyes. Razaac was a knight’s knight. Like so many of the soldiers of Lugunica, he clung to a frank contempt of the demi-humans that clashed with his otherwise high principles.

This was why almost no one, including Razaac, had noticed.

This subconscious prejudice was the greatest reason the demi-humans could never surrender.

2

His attack sliced off his enemy’s hand, cleaving the bone neatly. As he brought his blade back, he cut off the screaming man’s head. He turned, the gushing blood splattering onto his back, and buried his steel in the face of a lizard who had tried to get behind him. Brains spattered everywhere. The corpse’s eyes rolled up in its head; he kicked the body off the end of his sword.

“Riiiyaaahhh!”

Beside Wilhelm, a demi-human fell to the ground, knocked back by an impact. The source was Grimm, holding up his shield. He had used it both to block and then answer the enemy’s attack. His defensive abilities were unparalleled. He had perfected them just behind the vanguard, making the ideal complement to Wilhelm’s talent as the vanguard itself.

But there was no time to admire him. Wilhelm stabbed the demi-human in the heart.

Grimm jogged up to him. “Wilhelm! Are you okay?”

“See for yourself.”

“I thought so. I was just asking. I think we’re about done here. The captain is—”

He glanced back. An enemy soldier’s limbs were hurtling through the air, the result of a brutal blow from an ax. A halberd so terrible must belong to Bordeaux. A war cry like the howl of a wild animal echoed around the area.

“This is over,” Bordeaux shouted. “Let’s link back up! Go on to the next battlefield.”

“I hope they put up more of a fight at the next one,” Wilhelm said.

“Not me,” Grimm said. “I don’t want to die. I want to get back alive.” His hand searched at his neckline, finding the locket. Ignoring the gesture, Wilhelm looked at Grimm in perplexity. No matter how many battles they survived, he never changed. He claimed he didn’t want to die, yet he would rush headlong into the fight. He said he wanted to get back alive, yet he could deflect the murderous enemy with his shield and then beat them to death.

He’s a paradox.

“So are you fighting because you want to die?” Grimm asked.

“—”

“I don’t think you are,” Grimm went on. “You don’t strike me as the type to have a death wish. But I don’t think you’re in it for the killing, either. If anything, I think you want to live more than anyone else here.”

Grimm appeared to have seen directly into Wilhelm’s innermost thoughts. And that irritated him. Wilhelm clicked his tongue and started walking faster. Fast enough, he hoped, to leave behind the young man scrambling to follow him.

Bordeaux saw them as they were coming back and exclaimed, “Well, if it isn’t Captain Killer and his friend the Watch Dog! How’s the enemy, Wilhelm?”

Wilhelm pointed his blood-drenched sword in the direction of the battlefield and said, “Not so tough. We should make for the center. We can trim all the leaves and branches we want, it won’t make any difference. We have to pull this problem up by the roots.”

“How about you, Grimm?” Pivot asked. “No bad feelings?”

“No, sir, nothing. I’m not a fan of intense fighting, but I agree we should keep moving.”

This recommendation was enough for Bordeaux. He hefted his battle-ax and nodded. “Right, let’s do it, then! I was getting tired of all these small fry. In battle, just like in the hunt, the true warrior goes after the big game! Come on, Zergev Squadron, follow me!”

“Wait, young sir! Shouldn’t we consult the general for his instructions? Lady Mathers is with him, I believe.”

“Don’t be stupid, Pivot. If we go back, Viscount Bariel is only going to use us like the tools he thinks we are. We cut our way in there and let our success in battle speak for itself! That’s the ultimate comeuppance, Bordeaux-style!” He held up his battle-ax for emphasis.

“Comeuppance, is it? How very like you, young sir. But I can hardly…”

Pivot went quiet, a troubled expression on his slim face. Bordeaux laughed good-naturedly to see his second-in-command in such a state. “Just do what you’ve always done, Pivot, and follow me! Hell, what’ve you got to lose? Anyway, don’t forget our beloved general made a fool of Wilhelm before the battle. We’ve got to return the favor, don’t we?”

Wilhelm scowled at this. “Hold on. Don’t drag me into this. I told you not to make a big deal about it. And if he’s going to get paid back, I want to be the one to do it. Myself.”

“And because we can’t let you go by yourself, the whole squad’s coming with you.” Grimm met Wilhelm’s grimace with a shrug.

The resigned gesture made Bordeaux and Pivot laugh with merriment and acquiescence, respectively.

“Grimm’s learned how to handle himself, huh? What do you think, Pivot? Still worried?”

“…I give. You are here, young sir, and Wilhelm is here, and Grimm. This is Zergev Squadron. I am with you.”

“Don’t forget, Pivot, you’re here, too,” Bordeaux said. “All right, men, now we go for real!” He lifted his halberd to the sky. Everyone else in the unit raised their weapons as well and cheered. The squadron set out, the giant man at their head. Wilhelm let out a breath as the only one who didn’t feel the same spirit.

“I get dragged into one thing after another,” he muttered.

He wanted to be steel. He wanted to be a perfect blade, free of impurities. But this wish was continually undermined by the distractions and frustrations that seemed to flock to him daily. Ruminating angrily, Wilhelm tried to work his way to the front of the ranks.

That was when he noticed it: a red flower bobbing inconspicuously in one corner of the battlefield. Flowers bloomed even in war.

“Don’t be stupid!” he said to himself.

He couldn’t imagine why he was suddenly picturing the field by the square.

3

The Battle of Aihiya Swamp. Lyp Bariel, viscount of the south, was in charge.

“Magic circles have been discovered in two more locations on the north side of the swamp, sir! That makes eight spots total!”

“Mark them on the map. Carefully, be precise.”

The breathless messenger drew two red marks on the map on the wall. The map, depicting Aihiya Swamp, already bore nearly forty others like it.

In the roughly six hours since the battle had begun, reports of magic circles had flooded in from the battlefield. The royal forces had been prioritizing magic circle countermeasures since the loss at Castour Field, with the result that the demi-humans had never duplicated their success with magic circle traps since that battle.

“Admittedly, this number is unusual,” Lyp said, glaring at the map.

“Maybe another ensnarement really was their plan,” a subordinate offered.

“Now? When our countermeasures are so widespread? I would be just as happy if the enemy’s renowned strategists turned out to be so lump-headed. But I doubt they are, and I doubt they’ll do the same thing twice.”

“They are just demi-humans, sir. They’re half beast.”

Lyp stopped in his tracks, fixing the man with a cold stare. “And so what? Is that a reason to underestimate our enemy? If you think overcoming a beast is so easy, go catch me a white whale or two right now!”

“Er, ah…”

“Idiots should keep their mouths shut. If you’ve forgotten how to use your mind, there’s no reason to have you here at headquarters. Maybe you’d prefer the front lines?”

“M-my apologies, sir! I’ve overstepped myself!”

The man shuffled out of the tent, hanging his head. Lyp snorted and turned back to the map. Someone came up beside him—a woman with indigo-colored hair and wearing a military uniform. Roswaal.

“Your tongue is always so sharp,” she said. “I’m suuure he was just offering a thought.”

“Are you saying good intentions deserve a reward? Ridiculous. All things are rewarded according to their outcomes. If a hasty act sullies your reputation, some of what you have is taken away from you. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nooo, not especially. I don’t love incompetents myseeelf.” She shook her head.

Lyp gave a vaguely satisfied cough. “Very wise,” he said. “I want the opinion of an expert. What do you think of this arrangement of magic circles?”

“It’s rather unuuusual. Not only the number but also the placement. Following the logic of this arrangement, I expect there are other circles here and here, as well as this area.”

“I thought as much. Anyone could have guessed that. What do they think this trap will gain them?”

“We have to destroy the circles, regardless. They give me a bad feeling… There’s something I’d like to check. Would you allow me to examine one of the projected sites?”

“You have that woman knight to look out for you, don’t you? I’ll assign ten men to the two of you. Avoid any active battle locations.”

She had permission now to go to the blank—the expected place of the magic circles—closest to headquarters. Roswaal offered an elegant bow to Lyp, who hardly even bothered to glance up as she left the tent. Carol met her outside with concern written on her face. Roswaal smiled at her.

“I want to have a look at something. We’ll be on the fringes of the battle, so I’m counting on you to keep me safe.”

“I understand. But I see you plan on personally going somewhere dangerous again.”

“Nooothing so dangerous as where your little boyfriend is. Compared to the front, we’ll be teeerribly safe.”

“G-Grimm is not my boyfriend!”

“I don’t recall mentioning his naaame.”

Carol’s serious face turned red at having given away how she felt. This evoked a smile from Roswaal. Then she turned her one yellow eye to the battlefield, full of rumbling and smoke.

“I know you’re there, Sphinx. What are you planning?”

4

Zergev Squadron worked in concert, slicing their way toward the center of the battlefield. Every demi-human who stood in their way was cut down. Between the whipping ax strikes and the expertly wielded shield, the enemy had almost no chance to hit back, but one person stood out even in this distinguished company. That was the swordsman—no, the Sword Devil—whose blade was like a whirlwind.

Flashes of silver sent hands and feet flying, and thrusts found throat and heart; every move was ruthless, and every blow fatal. He shredded his enemies when they approached from the side; when they tried to keep their distance, he would close the space in the blink of an eye and skewer them. One demi-human after another met their end, swallowed up by the maelstrom of this swordsman’s spirit.

“Wh-what in the world is that? How are we supposed to fight it?”

They would shrink away, having lost their appetite for battle. Before he approached, they could see his overwhelming power, and when they fought him, they were simply buried, gaining nothing. A young demi-human quivered at the scene, but he found a hand on his shoulder.

“You should withdraw. There is no purpose in challenging an opponent you can’t defeat. Far be it from me to allow any to call such an action cowardice.”

The owner of the voice, this person who would show kindness to terrified soldiers, stepped forward. He was so tall most of them had to crane their necks to see his face. He was covered in scales and had a head like a snake’s. In his hand was a double sword—a central grip with a blade on either side.

“You there, swordsman,” the snake called in a cracking falsetto, “stop where you are! You seem to be quite capable. Allow me to oppose you personally!”

The whirling form came to a stop. Wilhelm lowered his blood-soaked weapon, his breath coming hard. The utter force of his aura struck his enemies as if he were already attacking them; his glare alone was enough to set the demi-humans trembling.

But the snake gave a snorting laugh and said, “You want to kill me. How charming. There’s something to you, boy. I’ll be happy to be your playmate!” Then the serpent leaped at Wilhelm, his two-bladed sword at the ready. Wilhelm rushed in as well, and the distance between them closed in an instant.

A dodge, a sideways swipe. A lightning-fast attack sought its enemy’s head, but a rising blade met it from below. With a screech and a shower of sparks, the deflected blade returned for another strike…

“Ah-ha!” the lizard exclaimed. “So you can’t match my speed!”

“Hrrr!”

Wilhelm bent his head back, the twin blade passing right in front of it. It had come up at his chin, and the quick follow-up attack had pressed him hard. There was only one enemy, but two weapons; its moves were simultaneously offensive and defensive.

As they exchanged close strikes and near misses, someone shouted, “It’s Libre Fermi! The Viper! One of the pillars of the Demi-human Alliance!”

Now everyone knew who the opponent was. The demi-human—Libre—only smiled wider, his long tongue emerging conspicuously from his mouth.

“Pillar? I don’t know that I like that. People will think I’m as fat as one! I’m far too lithe for such a word!”

“Lithe? You? Maybe in my nightmares!”

“Oh, how cruel. Flippant children. I could eat you up…literally.”

No sooner had he spoken than Libre’s face took on a new cast. His pupils narrowed, and the hiss of a snake warning its foe came out of his mouth. The speed of his movements increased further.

“Wilhelm!”

In the storm of steel, everything happening too quickly to see, Wilhelm was fighting a defensive battle. He was finding himself cornered. Somebody had called his name. Grimm? Bordeaux? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, as long as they didn’t do anything. This fight, this enemy, was his alone.

“Ha…ha-ha…”

“Are you…laughing?” Libre asked.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” It wouldn’t stop. This was joy itself welling up in his heart. The emotion encouraged him, guided him into the flow of the next attack. This caused Libre to slow for an instant, and Wilhelm’s sword came at him. The snake threw himself to one side, dodging the blow—and then he felt a kick.

“Hrr—gg!”

He bent nearly double with the unexpected strike, and a knee rose to catch his face as it came forward. He was bleeding. The sword arced toward his exposed Adam’s apple, seeking to cut off his head.

“Gracious! You are skilled for one so impertinent and young!”

He brought his left arm in to block the blow. The scales resisted the steel for just an instant, and then his hand was severed at the wrist. But in that instant, Libre sank low to strike Wilhelm in the gut with his powerful arm. The boy’s ribs cracked, and his internal organs compressed as he was thrown backward. The ground dealt him several unpleasant blows as he rolled, but he was still alive. He spat out a mouthful of blood and bile.

“Wilhelm!” Grimm shouted. “Damn it, I’m joining you!”

“D-don’t be st-stupid…! This one is mine…and mine alone!”

“That’s where you’re wrong. That snake is an enemy of our nation. Which means all of us!” Bordeaux said, positioning himself along with Grimm in front of the sputtering Wilhelm. The other members of the squadron moved to surround Libre, cutting off his escape.

“Goodness gracious,” Libre said. “Attacking a wounded, heartbroken lady all at once? Aren’t you worried about your precious honor?”

“Take a look. Do we seem like much for honor to you? We’re all out of knightly virtues.”

“And besides that, Libre Fermi, I happen to be aware that a missing hand or foot is no great loss to a snake person. You simply grow it back.”

“My, my, an expert. It is awfully tiring, though.”

Pivot, who had spoken, stood outside the circle. Libre held up his handless left arm. The cut was clean.

The edges of the wound began writhing, and then the flesh assumed the shape of a hand in a spectacular display of regenerative power.

The snake’s eyes looked in one direction and then another; everywhere, demi-humans were being dismembered and slaughtered. Libre looked sadly at the ground, then gestured at the squadron surrounding him.

“You lot speak the language of power. You’ve trained yourselves to the utmost. And that boy there… Could he be the Sword Devil, I wonder?”

“Oh-ho!” Bordeaux said. “So even the demi-human commanders know the Sword Devil. You’re moving up in the world!”

“Please don’t call me a commander. There’s no allure to that title; it’s not suited for me. Titles reeking of such manliness would make idiots like Valga happy.” Libre crossed his arms and let out a long breath. Then he looked up at the sky. “I suppose even I am not quite a match for Zergev Squadron by myself.”

“You and me, then! I’ll knock that head right off your shoulders—!” Wilhelm, breathing hard, stepped forward to demand the continuation of their fight. But Libre only shrugged and raised his twin blade.

“I would love to share this dance…but I believe the moment to call an end to things is coming. If you’ll so kindly pardon me.”

“What are you—?”

But he never got to talking about.

He felt it first as a change in the air. The atmosphere of the battlefield, thick with bloodlust and the smell of iron, became something moist and clinging.

An instant later, his hands and arms were underwater.

“Wha?! What in the—!”

“You were all much too worried about magic circles. Carefully getting rid of them one by one. Suppose someone knew you would do just that? Wouldn’t it only be logical to make it the crux of a trap?”

“Magic circles? How—?”

Ever since Castour Field, the elimination of magic circles on any battlefield had been a top priority over the royal forces. Zergev Squadron was careful to destroy any that they found; they had even removed one circle from this very battlefield.

“Magic circles work by imbuing the circles with meaning and then running magical power through them. You’re terrified of the effects they might have—but these circles were active from the beginning.”

Libre’s voice grated against Wilhelm’s eardrums. His limbs were heavy, as though he’d jumped into a pool of water fully clothed, and he was even finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t just him; everyone around him seemed to be experiencing the same thing. But Libre showed no sign of being affected.

“Those magic circles had power stored up in them. And you destroyed every last one! You released the energy in them, allowing it to charge up the hidden, true magic circle—and you see the result.”

“Why all the games…? Why not just start with the…true circle?” Pivot asked, his voice straining.

Libre replied as if he had all the time in the world. “Would you ever have come anywhere near the swamp if it had a gigantic spell trigger on it? Instead, we left you a little trail of bread crumbs to follow. And think of the future. When you see a magic circle on some other battlefield, you’ll have to wonder—to destroy it or not?” It was one of Valga Cromwell’s strategies, one that took into account not only this battle but others to come.

Libre looked up. The others followed his gaze to find a reddish-purple sky above them. The strange color extended all over the battlefield—most likely marking the magic circle’s area of effect. In other words…

“I always believed humans and demi-humans were divided only by their appearance and their blood. Now I see that that’s more than enough to split the world in two.” He paused meaningfully. “We will push back against you, beginning now. You’ll see.”

5

“Lady Mathers…! What is happening?!”

“We’ve been haaad. All the magic circles today—no, aaall the circles since Castour Field—have been decoys, leeeading us to this moment.”

Carol had sunk painfully to her knees; beside her, Roswaal frowned at the magic circle.

It happened after they’d left headquarters to investigate. Even as they were examining the diagram, it had activated, and the entire battlefield had been enveloped in this magical effect. Her whole body felt like it was stuck in some syrupy liquid, hard to move and inhale.

“I can hardly breathe…and my body…so heavy…,” Carol groaned, sweating. All the other soldiers Lyp had sent with her felt the same way. The effect seemed to manifest slight individual differences, but all of them were on their knees, moaning.

“If this is happening all over the battlefield…”

“I ceeertainly suspect that’s the case. I presume the demi-human side is unaffected. It’s as if they get to fight on land and we have to move underwater. Perhaps you, Carol, might emerge victorious?”

“Heaven…help us. If this is the work of magic, then could you…?”

“It’s pooossible I could decode the ritual for the circle and undo it. But that…” Roswaal paused, looking up at the discolored sky. She narrowed her heterochromatic eyes as something slowly descended toward the ground. “…is whyyy you are here,” she concluded.

“If there is any chance of stopping this circle, you of all people would figure it out based on what you’ve seen. And I put too much effort into this magic to have you destroy it.”

The owner of the calm, even voice landed on the earth—a young girl in a white robe. The fabric ensconced a witch of terrifying malice—Sphinx.

“What a surpriiise that you should worry about me. I’m so touched I could vomit.”

“Those with a high degree of specialized knowledge are valuable. If possible, I had hoped you might cooperate in making me complete.”

Sphinx looked at Roswaal curiously, but Roswaal steadfastly rejected the witch. “My teacher’s principles were a barrier to progress. You’re just a failed experiment from an earlier time. And I will get rid of you.”

At Roswaal’s answer, Sphinx raised a hand and pointed at one of the agonized soldiers.

“Were you able to respond to what I did just now?”

A beam of light had glanced toward, then through, the soldier’s neck in the blink of an eye. His head evaporated. She had done it again and again until six soldiers lay on the ground.

“Ah… Ahhh…” Carol, still unable to move, made a noise of astonishment at this slaughter. Even if they hadn’t been constrained, it had happened so fast it would have been almost impossible to evade. On a visceral level, she understood that if that finger happened to point at her, it would be the last thing she ever saw. Her carefully honed sword technique, the ideals she held so dear—none of it meant anything in the face of this monster.

“I ask once more. Will you cooperate in completing me?”

It wasn’t a request; it was a threat. Her heart, her body—something would surely give in.

But even as that finger with such devastating potential pointed at her, Roswaal shook her head.

“I told you,” she said. “I will kill you.”

“A shame.” Her words were dispassionate. And then her finger glowed.

As Carol watched, the beam of light shot straight at Roswaal.

6

Screams and death rattles reached Wilhelm’s ears from all around the battlefield.

His knees shivered, and his breath was harsh; he was barely remaining on his feet. His head was heavy, and his hands and feet seemed to move too slowly. No matter how greedily he gulped the air, he couldn’t seem to get nearly enough oxygen to fill his lungs.

The same phenomenon was afflicting Bordeaux and the others; presumably, it was occurring all over the field of battle. It appeared to be affecting only the royal army—the human forces.

“I told Valga that even if he gave ten times as good as he got to the humans, we would still lose,” Libre hissed, flicking his twin blade. “I suppose this is his answer. If he hurts you a hundred, two hundred times as badly as you hurt us, you’ll sing a different tune!”

“Don’t be stupid!” Bordeaux bellowed, supporting his weight with his battle-ax. “You could slaughter each and every soldier on this field, and we still wouldn’t give in to the likes of you!”

Libre frowned at the noise and indicated the gasping soldiers with a twitch of his tongue. “Pride is all well and good, but will you not be satisfied until both sides are completely annihilated? This is why I hate brutish, barbarian men. It’s impossible to have a productive conversation.”

“Are you trying to suggest you’re looking for one?” This remark came from Pivot, whose face was slowly turning blue. A cold sweat was running down his cheeks. “What is it that you want from the outcome of this battle?”

“What else? Peace. Not to be mercilessly picked out and murdered and trodden underfoot. We demi-humans want to know we’ll be able to live out our days in peace. That’s why we fight.”

“…That’s not what we’ve been hearing from Valga Cromwell.”

“That fool’s little speeches are altogether too extreme! …But he talks that way because of you humans. And I pour all my sympathy upon the flames of his hatred. It’s one more reason why we will see you defeated and force you to come to the bargaining table.”

On one level, Libre seemed willing to have a meeting of the minds, but he also wished for the demi-humans’ victory. The snake turned away from Pivot’s gaze and pointed his weapon at Bordeaux.

“I despise the idea of killing immobilized knights, but I am going to use you heroes to break the will of humanity. When they hear Zergev Squadron has been destroyed, their morale will die with you.”

“…You think…we’re going to go that easily?!” Bordeaux rasped.

“I assure you, it pains me to do this. But I am Libre Fermi. I embody the anger of the demi-humans, and I shall show you humans my fangs regardless of my personal wishes! Bordeaux Zergev, this is where you die!”

Libre’s sinewy body leaped at Bordeaux. His twin blade spun overhead in a deadly storm and closed on the huge human with the intent to end his life. Without meaning to, everyone looked away.

That was when the Sword Devil’s strike came in from the side.

“Grrrahhhhhhhhh!”

“You can still move…?!”

Aware of the constraints on his body, Wilhelm’s attack cut through the air with minimum possible movement. Libre quickly deflected it with his twin blade, but the Sword Devil’s frenzied assault would not be denied. He struck out with his sword at the serpent’s feet as they came to earth, at his head as it dodged back from him, and at the stomach that sought to evade him. Sparks and the screech of steel were everywhere; the pair engaged each other in a murderous dance.

“You may act strong, but you’re too slow! Too sluggish! Too weak! As you are now, you can’t defeat me!”

Wilhelm was being pushed back. Of course. This was an opponent he only had a fifty-fifty chance against on even terms, and now he had to fight while struggling in invisible water. He shouldn’t even have been able to give battle in this state; he certainly had no chance of winning.

But Wilhelm refused to simply lie down and die without offering any resistance.

“I respect your loyalty to your friend, diving in to save him, but this is where it ends!” Libre shouted.

The words lit a fire in Wilhelm’s heart. “Don’t make me laugh! This isn’t about loyalty to anyone!” But the movements of his arm wouldn’t follow the dictates of his rage. The twin blade deflected his sword, following up with a stab at his exposed belly. His blood ran cold, certain that he was about to be slit open.

An instant later, he felt a gentle impact and a spray of hot blood.

“Ahh. Good lord. I always have the worst lot in life.”

“Pivot!”

Pivot made a ghastly scream, as if vomiting blood. Then Wilhelm saw him, right before his eyes, cut deep and falling to the ground. A long diagonal slash ran from his left shoulder across his body.

He had thrown himself in the path of Libre’s strike. He had saved Wilhelm.

As he fell supine, Pivot shouted in a voice louder than they had ever heard from him, “…Do not…let Wilhelm die!”

The yell inspired the other members of the squadron; they fought their immobile bodies to confront Libre and his twin blade.

They had no hope of victory. Their dulled movements succumbed to Libre’s dancing weapon, and one by one they spilled their blood upon the battlefield.

“…Stop…”

Wilhelm had fallen to his knees. Pivot had protected him, but he was still injured. The swordsman watched Zergev Squadron being dismantled one man at a time in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t even stand up.

“STOOOPPP!”

He howled with all the emotion that roiled within him. Was Libre its true object? Or was he shouting at his squad mates, protecting him at the cost of their own lives? He himself didn’t know.

His voice echoed cruelly as the twin blade continued carving up his squadron. The pile of bodies grew.

“You’re good men, all,” Libre said. “…Why has it come to this?”

“Damned if I know. But I’m sure of one thing: We won’t let Wilhelm be killed. Because he is the sword of the Kingdom of Lugunica!” Grimm tossed aside his own blade and raised his shield, blocking Libre’s blows. This was the fruit of all the time he had spent on the defensive, and Grimm was able to resist far longer than any of the other squad members.

But it was all relative. If it had taken only a single attack to fell the other men, it took five to reach Grimm.

“Ghhgh—”

Grimm couldn’t move his shield in time, and the twin blade dug into his throat. Grimm’s eyes went wide at the critical blow; he dropped his shield and collapsed to the ground. Blood frothed from the wound, and the limbs of the Defender of the Shield twitched helplessly. And then a merciless blow descended from directly above him…

“Hrraaaaahhhh!!”

Possessed by a killing rage, Wilhelm flung himself at Libre. The serpent was slow to respond to this unexpected counterattack, and the two of them tumbled to the ground, tangled together, and fell into a hollow.

As up and down switched places, they beat at each other until they reached the bottom of the depression. Spitting blood and giving animal howls, the Sword Devil and the snake rolled to the place of their final battle.

7

The beam of light flew at Roswaal almost faster than the eye could see. It moved so quickly that Carol could make no move to guard her mistress; somewhere inside she resigned herself to watching Roswaal explode. But her despair turned to amazement.

“…Well. Well…”

“Didn’t I tell you? I am the one who will kill you.”

Sphinx was clutching her abdomen, which had been hit. For the first time, she was breathing with pain. The source of the injury was Roswaal, who had dodged the beam of light and stepped in to deliver a punch.

She shook her indigo hair, raising her hands as if ready to box. “Not everyone is affected by a magic circle in the same way. It’s a difference in our mana cycles. Simply put, the more adept you are at sorcery, the more susceptible you’ll be to a circle’s effects. It makes things simple. The worse of a sorcerer you are, the more normally you’ll be able to move.”

“I had heard you were a specialist in magic, but this…”

“I know more than anyone. I juuust can’t put it into practice. This generation, Roswaal J. Mathers, is completely and totally unable to use magic. That’s why I can kill you.”

As she spoke, Roswaal took out a pair of steel gauntlets and put them over her hands. Her fists became weapons of steel; she was prepared to literally beat the monster before her to death.

“From my youngest days, I was trained in the fighting arts, all for this moment. I hope you have a chance to admire my technique before I finish you off.”

Roswaal stepped in with intensity, her blows slamming through the air. Any one of them, had it landed, would have been strong enough to crush a boulder, and Sphinx quickly found herself completely on the defensive.

Carol gulped, enraptured by Roswaal’s fighting. The way she used her fists and the way she held herself unmistakably marked her as an accomplished practitioner, a genius whose natural talents had been honed over twenty years to forge the tremendous pugilist Carol saw before her. Roswaal had not been boasting nor exaggerating when she said she had trained since she was a girl. It was a fact.

A kick that could have split a large tree in half caught Sphinx squarely, sending her light body flying sideways. Her youthful face slammed into the ground, and soon after, a gauntleted fist sought to pulverize her skull.

“…This is beyond…what I imagined. My observation was insufficient.” In the blink of an eye, Sphinx was off the ground as she leaped into space. She wiped the edge of her mouth. Perhaps she had some internal injury, for fresh blood trickled relentlessly from her mouth.

Roswaal’s lips twisted down contemptuously as she watched her opponent float in the air. “You’re going to run?”

“I could also take pot shots at you from up here where you can’t reach me.”

“—”

Sphinx must have seen something in Roswaal’s glinting eye, because she decided to let caution prevail. “But let us cease this. I presume you have some plan prepared to knock me out of the sky.”

The young witch danced through the air, leaving Roswaal and Carol farther and farther below.

“Lady Mathers!” Carol exclaimed. “That villain—the witch—is getting away!”

“I can see that,” Roswaal said, remaining calmer than her bodyguard. “But it’s no use chasing her. And don’t call her ‘the witch.’” She took off her gauntlets. Instead of pursuing the fleeing enemy, she stepped on the magic circle, which glowed with a surfeit of magical power.

“This complicated design isn’t about enhancing the effect of the magic so much as making it harder to dispel. They seem to think quiiite highly of me. And they’ve still underestimated me.” As she muttered, Roswaal got down in the dirt beside the glowing circle and began scratching something into the earth. She pointed a finger at the circle and closed one eye. Her yellow iris flickered weirdly, and an instant later, the design under her feet shattered with the sound of breaking glass.

As the magic vanished along with it, their breath returned, and their limbs lightened. The angry red sky remembered its normal color, and the world was tinted twilight. Carol got to her feet.

“I can move…! Wait, Lady Mathers. What damage did we sustain from this circle?”

“In battle, it only takes five seconds for the tide to turn, let alone ten minutes… Who can say what’s happened?”

“Grimm…” Carol immediately thought of the one she loved and whispered his name.

Beside her, Roswaal watched the sky regain its color. “I thought I might not be able to destroy that thing here at Aihiya. So the final battle will be elsewhere…”

8

Wilhelm was on top by the time they landed at the bottom of the depression.

His face hit the damp ground, and he spat mud and dirt out of his mouth, baring his teeth at the same time. Libre was reaching out as if to pull him up, and Wilhelm bit off the serpent’s fingers. He planted a knee in the snake’s stomach as he came down from above.

He suddenly found his body had returned to normal. He adjusted his grip on his beloved sword and pointed it at Libre. The snake-man rose, readying his twin blade. The two stared at each other.

“I guess this means our magic circle is done for,” Libre said. “Just as well. As I said, I have no desire to murder a helpless opponent!”

“Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch! I’ll never forgive you for what you did!”

“Are you mad that I killed your friends? So it seems the Sword Devil has human feelings after all.”

For just a second, Wilhelm found he could say nothing in response to Libre’s taunts. A white-hot rage rose in his chest, as if it were not blood but magma that ran through his veins. But even he didn’t know where this tremendous anger came from. He could only deny it.

“You’ve got some nerve! I’m only a sword! Just one sword! Loyalty and friendship have nothing—”

Steel was beautiful. Never angry. Never complaining. Complete within itself. That was why Wilhelm wanted—

“I see. I think this makes sense to me now. You, at this very moment, are being reborn.”

Wilhelm caught his breath.

“Come at me, immature one. I shall teach you how a newborn first cries.”

Wilhelm brazenly sprang at Libre with everything he had. And in response, the strongest warrior in the Demi-human Alliance raised his twin blade.

9

“Pivot! Pivot, wake up! Don’t you die on me!”

Pivot’s breath came in short gasps. Bordeaux held him in his arms, shouting desperately. The lean man’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Bordeaux, his pupils clouded. A weak smile worked its way across his face.

“Y-young…sir…what an un…becoming face you’re making.”

“Don’t try to talk! No, wait—keep going! Don’t die! If you go unconscious, that’s it!”

Pivot clung to Bordeaux’s neck, his breath growing short. His face was colorless, and the flow of blood from his wounds was abating. Anyone could see that his condition was fatal. The only person who refused to admit it was Bordeaux.

“Young…young sir, you must be careful…to correct…your failings.”

“Picking up my slack is supposed to be your job! This is a dereliction of duty, and I won’t allow it!”

The collective difficulty of breathing had eased at last, but many had fallen in addition to Pivot. How many of them were left to enjoy the free air again?

“Y—ng…ir… It’s been…an hon…or…” The vice captain let out a long breath, and the strength left his body.

“Pivot? Pivot, come on! Stop being stupid! Open your eyes! Pivot!” Bordeaux slapped the man’s cheeks, tried to force his eyes open. But Pivot’s body didn’t move. His life was gone. Even Bordeaux could see it. The battlefield had taught him what corpses looked like, and now Pivot was one of them.

Yet no matter how much time passed, he couldn’t admit it.

Suddenly, Pivot’s remains gave a single great shudder. “—”

“Pivot?” The astonished Bordeaux looked down at the body as though he couldn’t believe it. The corpse’s eyes drifted open. The pupils focused on Bordeaux.

“Pivo—!”

The captain was just exclaiming at this miracle when two hands wrapped around his neck. His head snapped back in pain and surprise, then two arms rose and encircled his torso in an attempt to break his spine. It was as if the departed Pivot was trying to take Bordeaux with him.

“Hrggh— Gah—”

As the corpse throttled him, Bordeaux felt his consciousness slipping away. It was inconceivable that Pivot would betray him. He of all people would never do that. What had happened? An instant before the world faded from view—

“Hrrr!”

Grimm knocked Pivot’s body away, his shield at the ready. The two of them tumbled to the ground, practically on top of each other. Grimm didn’t get up. But Pivot did, and he reached out for the unconscious boy with a howl like a wild animal’s. The merciless fingers sought Grimm’s weakness, stretched out to take his life…

“Yaaaaaahhhhhh!”

With a rush of air, Bordeaux’s battle-ax caught the defenseless Pivot square in the middle of the back. This was a weapon that could slice through even armor like paper. It cut its foe nearly in two; he fell to the ground and was still at last.

A corpse. This time he was well and truly a corpse.

“—”

Bordeaux stood poised with his battle-ax, and all around him stood the deceased members of Zergev Squadron. Faces he knew, now drained of life, pierced Bordeaux with their empty gazes. Their former commander began to laugh.

“Ha… Ha-ha…ha-ha-ha! Ahhh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

These were undead puppets. A little parlor trick of the witch Sphinx. Bordeaux knew it, the moment her hatefulness entered these once-proud warriors in an attempt to profane them in death.

“That witch…! That witch, thatwitchthatwitchthatwitchthatwitchthatwitchthatwitchthatwiiiiitch!!”

Shouting the words almost like an incantation, Bordeaux swore revenge against the true evil, the one that was doing all this despite not being present. And then he and his battle-ax set to work butchering all his newly deceased subordinates. As he cut down the encroaching zombies, sending them back into death, Bordeaux laughed. He laughed and laughed.

The howls went on and on, until they mingled with sobs. The echoes reached every corner of the battlefield.

10

The dance of death and steel was reaching its climax. Wilhelm wielded his blade with a chilling clarity, growing ever faster and more nimble. Libre’s responses with his twin blade were balletic, but his injuries were increasing as he found it harder and harder to avoid Wilhelm’s blows.

This startling display of swordsmanship was the result of a mind-boggling talent combined with Wilhelm’s own sweat and tears. Libre had lived a long life and knew few who could challenge him in combat. He could only feel admiration at having found a challenger in a boy so young.

This was ominous, he thought. He felt that not only the boy’s sword technique boded ill, but also the quality of his humanity. He was incomplete, imperfect. Immature. He was still young, and had not yet mastered himself.

He said that he wanted to be steel. To be the swipe of a sword.

Perhaps that was the task he had set himself and the motivation that had driven him. The weight and quickness of his strikes could have been achieved through halfhearted effort. But as he dodged and deflected the blows with his twin blade, Libre could feel that the torrent of emotion contained in the attacking sword was not that of steel.

The emotions burned hot, and steel did not heat itself. It was the way of the human heart to be swayed by feelings, but it was those same emotions that gave intensity to their fighting. This devil who wished to be a sword—was still human.

“Heh-heh.”

“What’s so funny?!” Wilhelm demanded of the chuckling Libre. Wilhelm’s face was covered in blood.

“Oh, nothing,” Libre said. “It’s simply that even as we try to kill each other, I simply can’t get excited about fighting a wooden opponent. If I’m going to pit my way of life against another’s, I want it to be someone who bleeds, someone who weeps!”

The commotion was immense. The flash of sparks, the clang of clashing blades, their stamping across the earth all added to the cacophony. Life bloomed in every blow, emotions were expressed in every strike, and all the noise cried out for more combat.

He wasn’t steel. He wasn’t a demon. Here, he was just a boy named Wilhelm. Libre’s opponent was just a single human, and Libre himself was just a single demi-human—the whole war was encapsulated in the two of them.

Wilhelm just managed to find an opening from above, spinning to bring his sword toward Libre’s neck. The serpent raised his weapon and caught it—and then the blade shattered, and Wilhelm’s strike found its mark.

Libre’s vision went red. But the blow’s power had been blunted, and the sword was unable to pierce Libre’s scales. With the sword half buried in his neck, Libre brought up the remaining end of his twin blade to sweep at Wilhelm.

The difference between them as species, the difference in the abilities they were born with, decided this battle. It was, indeed, the reason for this entire civil war.

“In the end…maybe we are different,” Libre mused. “Maybe we can’t understand each other. For just a moment, I almost thought I had gotten through to you, if ever so little. Did I imagine it?”

Wilhelm fell back, clutching the wound on his chest. Libre thrust with his sword. But even as death approached, the boy’s murderous eyes refused to admit defeat. Sadness flooded Libre’s heart. Such intense vitality did not deserve this fate.

“You really are human, aren’t you? So utterly human, it brings me sorrow. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a threat to me and mine. I regret to say that this is good-bye.”

The boy could not be allowed to live. Libre might be taunted; it might be said that his own humanness had been exploited in combat. But his affection for a given individual and his pride as a demi-human were different things.

Libre Fermi was not in a position to give precedence to his personal feelings. He knew that all his actions must advance the demi-human cause. And so—

“When this is all over, I shall put a flower on your grave. A blood-red one, full of the heat of passion.”

Then he raised his halved twin blade, hoping to offer the Sword Devil at least a painless death.

The next instant, a beam of light pierced Libre’s chest from behind.

11

The moment before death came to him, Wilhelm’s life did indeed flash before his eyes.

“Hrrk! Haah!”

Blood accompanied Libre’s long tongue as it slid out of his mouth; trembling, he looked behind him in amazement. There stood the witch Sphinx, who had appeared suddenly, her glowing finger pointed in their direction.

“What…do you think…you’re doing?”

“Right. I have been injured more severely than I planned and am currently retreating. While I do so, I wished to request the protection of the most capable person I could, and you were near at hand, so I have selected you.”

Libre looked down at the hole in his chest, touched the bloodless wound, and smiled.

“Is that so…? I must say, this hardly looks like a request to me.”

“I do not have time to negotiate, so I have decided simply to kill you and make you my puppet immediately. Do not fear. Valga has told me of how desperately he needs you. Thus, although I will turn you into an undead warrior, I plan to take every measure to prevent you from rotting. This requires careful thought.”

“Valga… That fool. I told him…we couldn’t control you…”

Brandishing his broken blade, Libre turned toward Sphinx. She cocked her head at this behavior. “Based on your injuries and level of fatigue, I conclude that resistance is futile.”

“Futility is no reason for inaction. I…am the pride of the demi-human race. Libre Fermi! Do not underestimate me, you little bitch!”

Fangs bared, Libre sprang forward. His movements and speed would never have betrayed that he was on the edge of death.

“I didn’t want to hurt you too much, but you give me no choice.” A storm of white light assaulted the oncoming Libre, piercing his chest, knees, and neck. Blood sprayed everywhere; countless coin-size holes opened in Libre’s body, and he toppled to the ground.

“Damnable…witch… You shall ne…never have…m-m…”

“—”

“V—Valga… The rest is…up to…y—”

These two unfinished imprecations were Libre’s last words as a beam of light struck him in the head. And so the strongest of the demi-humans fell dead, a great hole in the middle of his face.

As his chance to settle things with such a fine opponent was stolen from him, Wilhelm said nothing. He watched as Sphinx placed a palm on Libre’s remains.

“I will tell Valga you died honorably in battle. My study suggests that report would make you happy. Now, then…”

“W-wait…”

As Sphinx began to rise, Wilhelm stopped her, murder in his eyes. But the way she looked at him suggested that, to her, his hatred was nothing more than a gentle breeze.

“Fear not; you are safe. I have no intention of harming you. I wish to leave this place promptly and make ready for what is next. This requires preparation.”

“Don’t mock me! You’re…letting me live? Why? Fight me… F-fight…me…!”

Sphinx’s formerly expressionless eyes widened. “I am most surprised to hear you say such a thing, in your present state.” Then she nodded several times, surveying Wilhelm with interest. “You clearly are unable to do battle. Yet you seek combat. I do not understand. Perhaps because my emotions are incomplete. I see that you, too, require observation.”

“Observation…?”

“Valga, who burns with hatred, and Libre, who wielded his sword with sadness, were both objects of study. You, the vessel of an anger that supersedes death, are one, too… I am eager for the next chance to observe you.”

With that, Sphinx turned around. Wilhelm wanted to call out, stop her; he tried to rise up, but his limbs wouldn’t move. Instead—

“…Libre.”

The corpse of Libre Fermi, the light gone from its eyes, stood up. Libre now wore the empty expression of an undead warrior, and he spared no attention for Wilhelm as he followed after the departing Sphinx. The tall serpent and the diminutive girl vanished into the distance, leaving Wilhelm alone.

“Damn it all,” Wilhelm growled, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack and cursing his immobile body. His eyes were open wide, and he lay curled in the corner of a battlefield scorched by the flames of war, voicing his hatred to himself like a spell.

“You’ll pay… You’ll pay! I’ll make you regret this… You’ll regret leaving me alive! Damn it! Damn it all to helllllll!”

His last word turned into a wrenching howl of despair, and the Sword Devil’s personal defeat underscored all that had happened that day. Wilhelm’s regret and anger burned until the royal army found him and long after. It was clear to everyone that the flames would not be doused until he cut off the head of the witch.

12

The Battle of Aihiya Swamp went down as the worst defeat since Castour Field.

The blow was not as one-sided as Castour, but the royal army had sacrificed nearly twice as many men, the greatest loss of life in a single battle since the start of the civil war. All the royal troops involved had been simultaneously weakened by the effects of the magic circle around the battlefield, and casualties were reckoned at greater than 60 percent.

The weight of this defeat was felt keenly at general headquarters, and responsibility was pinned on the mid-level eradicators of the magic circles—in other words, on whoever had nullified the most magic circles on the field. As a result, Lyp Bariel, viscount of the south, found his name marred as a war criminal.

Lyp protested mightily, demanding a retrial from general headquarters. Not only was he a suspect in the death of his predecessor, but also Lord Crumère, his former commanding officer, was only too happy to report his bouts of violence and irrationality. Ultimately, he was unable to regain his honor, and his suit was denied.

The viscount was only the first of many officers to become scapegoats; the majority of the units in the royal army had suffered losses, and the postmortem went on without mercy. Among those whom the battle had badly bloodied was Zergev Squadron, a unit renowned for its heroism. Its survivors numbered just eleven.

These included Bordeaux Zergev and Grimm Fauzen; Wilhelm Trias was soon added to the list. Zergev Squadron’s casualties, including Vice Captain Pivot Anansi, numbered sixty-nine. Each and every one of them had become undead warriors and been dispatched by Bordeaux.

Later, history would see this as a convenient point at which to mark the beginning of the final phase of the civil war. It would change not only the course of history but all those who participated in the conflict.

Bordeaux Zergev was now solidly on the side of demi-human extermination, moved by his profound hatred for the witch.

Grimm Fauzen’s wounds cost him his voice, setting his kindhearted lover adrift on a sea of sorrow.

As for Wilhelm Trias, that battle was the day he began to wonder about the path of the sword and question his very way of life.

He could not find the answer to that question alone. But the day he found the answer would come before long.