But with a wry grin, Velgrynd remained supremely unconcerned within her hyper-gravity cell.
“You truly do reign supreme among demons. I couldn’t ask for much more magic force. But if you insist on following the laws of this world, you will never outclass a True Dragon.”
As if to prove her point, Velgrynd shattered the jet-black column from the inside. Then she raised her own magical force to jam Carrera’s magic, rendering her powerless.
“Ha-ha-ha! Sir Veldora’s sister is something of a jokester herself, I see. If magic doesn’t work, I suppose I can’t do too much, huh? …Well, there are the sword skills Agera taught me, aren’t there? Might not do much, but let’s give it a try!”
Even though the greatest trick in her book was effortlessly broken through, Carrera still seemed to be enjoying herself. There was no sign of her losing heart as she held up her magic-generated blade. It had a fierce, violent presence, one slightly unbecoming of a demon, and Carrera’s own demonic aura flowed into it, making it glow in her hand.
“That’s probably the right answer. If it’s a technique you yourself have crafted, not a simple magic spell or skill, then it may even strike a True Dragon, the core of the world. Sir Veldora told me that a woman named Hinata proved it to him once.”
Testarossa didn’t need to test it out. She presumed magic wouldn’t work on Velgrynd; that was why she used a magically generated flame whip from the very beginning. It was white in color, imbued with a “freezing flame of ivory”—an accursed contradiction in attributes that Testarossa herself invented.
“Hmm… Humans are real fascinating, huh? In that case, maybe I oughta break these out, too.”
Ultima materialized two knives, one in each hand. The blades were a loathsome dark purple, letting out an eerie, mystical aura.
“Wasting no time either, are you, Ult? You hurt Zegion with those earlier, didn’t you?” Carrera asked.
“Pretty much. Honestly, I didn’t see much point moving my own body to defeat him, but…”
“Surprising, though,” noted Testarossa. “I didn’t think our combat experience with Sir Zegion would come in handy like this.”
Magic was the main strength of this trio; they never put much emphasis on close combat. But in the battle against Zegion, no other method of attack seemed to work, thanks to his wall-like defenses and absolute superiority over all types of magic. Almost no spell worked on Zegion, and as a result, they had to seek out other means. This was their answer. Only by putting their own spiritual life-forms on the line and harnessing their own tenacious wills for their attacks did they succeed in inflicting damage on Zegion.
For a spiritual life-form, the power of will outclasses anything else. A skill is simply another form of the user’s will, created from their own desire, and an ultimate skill is the final destination that desire may reach. The demonesses wanted to see how close they could reach with their own skills, and as they concluded, there was no other option but to try it out. So, through embodying their wills, they had each come up with weapons suited uniquely for them.
Zegion’s own defenses worked just as well on ultimate skills, but still, Ultima’s knives managed to inflict a wound on his body. This was important, for it meant that the three demonesses’ attacks were ultimate in nature.
“I tried to imitate Ult’s weapon, y’know. My swordsmanship is really just for fun, but Agera’s taught me full mastery anyway. Let’s go, shall we?”
Carrera sprinted forward, slashing at Velgrynd with all her might without even considering defense. Velgrynd parried the slashes with her feathered fan, a high-grade work of art that could hardly be called a weapon. With its durability irrevocably altered by her magical energy, however, it was now harder than diamond. Thin, light, flowing, and tough, it was Velgrynd’s favorite weapon, easily comparable with Carrera’s sword.
“What a surprise. I didn’t expect the Primal Demons to so readily abandon magic like that.”
“Is it that surprising? Our pride is a small price to pay for a victory we can offer to our lord.”
Velgrynd, already on the defensive against Carrera’s onslaught, was struck by Testarossa’s whip. Like a horde of white serpents, the whip constantly changed its shape and direction as it hunted down its prey.
“Tsk!”
Velgrynd clicked her tongue in frustration. The whip had torn the hem of her dress, offering a glimpse of her beautiful legs—and on one of them, a bright red welt, clear for all to see. It proved that Testarossa’s attack worked.
“Not bad, Testa,” said Carrera. “I’ll stay on the vanguard, so keep up the good work for me.”
“You’re celebrating a fluke of a hit that much?”
Even after this light injury, Velgrynd still felt in control. That’s why, facing up against Testarossa and her friends, she made a terrible mistake. She let her guard down.
“It’s not a fluke!”
Ultima’s triumphant cry rang out just as Velgrynd felt an intense pain in her side.
…What?!
A moment of confusion. Then, as if aiming for that moment, Testarossa’s whip and Carrera’s sword stuck over and over, taking turns.
Velgrynd fell to her knees, not immediately aware of what happened to her. Not that she couldn’t comprehend it—she just didn’t want to.
“Spectacular work, Ultima. We’ll need to have Sir Rimuru praise us for it later.”
“Very impressive, yeah,” agreed Carrera. “But we can’t let our guard down. Now it’s time to wrap it up!”
“Right, right! The other Separate Body is still around. Let’s defeat that, too, and then let’s interrupt that ritual!”
Velgrynd, hearing these voices far in the distance, stood up.
“Oh… After all that, did it still not do much damage?”
“Your poisoned curses take time for even us to reverse, Ult. The True Dragons are extremely powerful.”
“But she doesn’t feel so unbeatable now, huh? The damage has to be building up. If we keep going—”
Before Ultima could finish, Velgrynd went on the move. With speed that not even the demonesses’ super senses could catch up with, she grabbed Ultima by the neck and slammed her to the ground.
“Gah!”
Ultima groaned as Velgrynd unleashed a stomping kick on her, then leaped away, just before Carrera’s sword slash whizzed through her position. Velgrynd, safely out of Carrera’s range, pulled out a knife stuck to her side and cast it aside. Her clothes were still torn, but there were no wounds left on her pale skin. Any damage caused by this barrage was no big deal to her.
“She really is a monster,” Carrera muttered.
“Not exactly,” Velgrynd lightly replied, a bit self-mocking in tone. “In fact, I’m not nearly good enough yet. I haven’t felt the sensation of being taken off guard for years and years… Then again, perhaps I’ve been doing that on a regular basis, but never realized it because I never paid a price. I suppose it’s a problem only the best of the best must face—but I’m sure you understand what I mean, don’t you?”
Velgrynd smiled, but her eyes cast a sharp gaze at them, making sure no twitch or slight movement went undetected. The demonesses couldn’t hope for her to be so careless a second time—and with that, all hope for their victory seemed to be lost.
“I always thought Primal Demons were nasty things…but not in terms of being a threat. They’re just a pain to deal with. But now I see things differently. With your new names and physical bodies, you have surpassed my wildest dreams in strength. That much I must acknowledge.”
Velgrynd had no intention of dismissing the Primal Demons as unworthy. Their strength in battle didn’t outclass hers, but working in groups paid off for them—an ability that would no doubt work well against Velzard, her sister. In fact, Velgrynd was taken by surprise just now. If that happened in battle against her sister, it would have marked a decisive defeat for her. That much was proven by how that last attack from Testarossa’s team had just ruined her Separate Body. It would recover over time, but as Carrera said, disabling Ultima’s poisoned curse on the body would be a painstaking task even for Velgrynd.
So she disabled the damaged Separate Body and conjured up a new one—and then, all the damage was undone. That was the real trick behind Parallel Existence. No matter what kind of unfamiliar technique you used to kill off a body, it ultimately meant nothing before Velgrynd’s authority.
But not even this authority is limitless. There were still restrictions, more or less—the biggest of which being that each Separate Body created occupied 10 percent of the user’s maximum magicule count as a sort of collateral. This was not consumed, but functioned as a kind of maintenance fee, and as the term “collateral” suggests, it came back to the user once the body was extinguished. However, only so many bodies could be created; that was an incontrovertible fact. Velgrynd could create a maximum of ten—but, of course, this would take up 100 percent of her magicule count, reducing her ability to fight. Magicules could be shared between bodies, and Velgrynd figured it would be most efficient to leave at least half of her magicules free at any given time. That’s why she kept it to three or four at the most.
That, and there was another limitation, related to how much damage each body could receive. If a body was deactivated without any damage, the user would regain 10 percent of their magicules. If it was damaged, however, the amount returned would be proportionally less depending on the extent of the damage. Rimuru had anticipated as much in his strategy, and in a sense, he was right—with the damage taken, Velgrynd had lost 5 percent of her magicules. By comparison, Gravity Collapse, the nuclear-level strike that required Carrera’s full force to unleash, wouldn’t even absorb 1 percent of Velgrynd’s magicule count. That was how much the True Dragons had to work with.
So while Velgrynd appeared invincible at first glance, she was far from immortal. She could ignore pretty much all physical damage, but if you slowly, steadily drained her energy, it’d be possible to defeat her sooner or later. The probability was still incredibly small, but it was one Velgrynd remained aware of—and considering these were three of the strongest fighters in the world, she really did think they had a chance against her. Calling them “no threat” to her was just a bluff, a bit of psychological warfare.
Now Velgrynd was sure of it. If everything went well, these three demonesses could serve as a deciding factor in her next battle against Velzard. If they could join the fight against her sister, victory was all but assured. That was why she decided to solicit them one more time.
“…You understand now, don’t you? No matter how much you struggle, you could never defeat me. Don’t you think further battle is pointless? All you have to do is help me a little, and I will guarantee your freedom after that. So do you mind surrendering for now, please?”
This was the largest concession that Velgrynd’s pride would allow her to offer. But it was met with instant rejection.
“You want us to betray Sir Rimuru? My, what a funny joke.”
“You’re definitely not taking us seriously. Demons never break their contracts—you know that, right? Just because it’s not looking good for us doesn’t mean we’ll change sides at the drop of a hat.”
“Absolutely. And sure, maybe you could try bargaining with some demons. If you look hard enough, I bet you could find some driven by their own self-interests enough to say yes. But you should realize that I would never betray my lord!”
Testarossa, Ultima, and Carrera each expressed their feelings in their own words—and then in their own actions, as they unleashed an unhinged barrage upon Velgrynd. Each one was maximum-force, instantly destroying her Separate Body. Once again, Velgrynd was drained of 9 percent of her magicules. The negotiations were off.
“…Ah, what a shame. A real shame.”
Velgrynd, generating a new body, flashed a lurid smile as she spoke—and then the rampage began.
So Gazel and his team decided to attack the area where Kagali was conducting the ritual, bypassing the Gravity Collapse–driven pillar of crimson that was raining blood from the sky above. Getting too close to it would catch them in the gravitational waves, Pegasus Knight or not—and as their leader, it was Dolph’s duty to keep watch and lead the way. This Velgrynd-engineered Gravity Collapse, after all, was completely impervious to anything happening around it.
Testarossa and the other demons seemed to be locked in combat with Velgrynd on the ground, but the crimson pillar remained as present as ever. The fact sent a chill down Gazel’s spine, but he didn’t show it as he shouted.
“I can hardly believe it, but that is Velgrynd. You must think that her producing a Separate Body on the same level as her main one is the stuff of nightmares, don’t you? But fear not. Know that we, too, have powerful reinforcements that defy all common sense!”
His voice reached his knights, bold and majestic as it removed any sense of fear from their hearts. Even Gazel, to tell the truth, was terrified. A Saint-level knight would be capable of little against such an overwhelming presence—any attempt at resistance would fizzle out against such a huge difference in power. But Gazel did not give up. His sense of responsibility as king galvanized his heart—but most of all, these unexpected reinforcements from his former fellow trainee showed that it was still far too early to despair. In terms of magicule count alone, the three demonesses lost out to Gazel…but here they were, boldly challenging an opponent whose power must be nearly a hundred times greater than theirs.
Heh-heh-heh… Faced with their exploits, a king like myself can hardly afford to whine about my lot.
Such was the vow he made to himself. And that resolve was now spreading to his advisors, and the knights under their command. By the time they reached their destination, fear no longer registered with any of them.
Their destination awaited beyond the crimson pillar, a wide open meadow accessible enough for a large army to occupy. The ground was stained with blood—the final end of the Composite Division, no doubt, after all their double-dealing.
In this vast area stood around a hundred people. One of them stood out, thanks to the different uniform he was wearing. It was Lieutenant Kondo, his presence overwhelming as he shot a look toward Gazel. With him was Footman, Teare, and three dozen or so of Yuuki’s former companions; they were joined by nearly fifty Imperial Guardians. They were spread out in formation to protect Kagali, ensuring she wasn’t disturbed during the ritual. Over toward Kondo was another uniformed group—members of the Imperial Information Bureau, although several of them were Guardians as well. Essentially, these were the best forces the Empire had to offer right now, all in one place.
Kagali was located on the outer edge of the crimson pillar, immersed in the ritual even as she was doused in the downpour of blood. Velgrynd was standing nearby, watching over her; after creating that Separate Body on the other side of the pillar, she had returned here so the three demonesses wouldn’t interfere with the magic spell. Even for Velgrynd, conjuring such a large-scale incantation required the full attention of her main body; an alternate wouldn’t cut it. Thanks to that, she appeared in no hurry to join the upcoming battle, instead choosing to watch it from afar, and Gazel could see that for himself.
So they began their descent, slow and relaxed. Kondo greeted them on the ground.
“I am honored to meet you, King Gazel,” he said nonchalantly. “The legends of your heroism precede you.”
Gazel snorted and raised his sword.
“And you are?”
“Lieutenant Kondo, director of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau.”
“Ah, the figure ‘stalking the halls of information,’ as they say? Interesting. I will handle you myself. On guard!”
A glance was all it took for Gazel to recognize Kondo’s skill. He attempted Read Thought against him the moment he sized him up, and it didn’t work—a clear sign they were at least equals in skill.
“Whoa, whoa, allow me to—”
“Enough, Vaughn. You handle the others so they don’t get in our way. And all of you as well. I’m the only one here who can take this man.”
Gazel was addressing all his advisors now, the team about to wage this final battle together. Jaine was the first to nod her approval.
“Yes, yes, that man is clearly more than we can handle. Let us clear away the other obstacles, at least, so King Gazel may fight in peace.”
Dolph nodded. “…Very well. Everyone, listen to me! We may outnumber them, but never underestimate their powers! Form groups of five and roll out for aerial combat!”
Sizing up the enemy, he began to issue precise orders to his team. The Pegasus Knights were gifted at assaulting targets from the sky, free of all obstruction—but this time, their strategy called for using their superior numbers to hassle and distract the enemy.
Whether Yuuki’s old friends or members of the Imperial Guardians, every one of them was powerful enough to be considered Enlightened. That would rank a Special A in the threat-level scale used by the Free Guild, comparable in strength to Arch Demons. With the right training, any of them could be potential demon-lord seeds; right now, they were all champions of humanity.
Dolph’s troops, when teamed with a flying mount, were only over-A by comparison. Dolph himself was an Enlightened, and some of the Pegasus Knights stood out from the others, but he didn’t see any of them beating any foe here one-on-one. This wasn’t the product of statistical reasoning; he just had a feeling the enemy forces here were that dangerous. They had a better chance of beating them instead of Velgrynd, but he still didn’t think they could win this fight any normal way.
That was the reason behind his orders. They weren’t here to annihilate the enemy, but rather to use the aerial advantage to distract them. That, Dolph hoped, would buy them enough time and keep Gazel from having to turn his attention elsewhere. The Pegasus Knights, thankfully, picked up on this without hesitation.
I must believe in His Majesty’s victory and do my part to achieve it. Besides, we will have more troops soon!
That was Dolph’s belief, and it was quickly affirmed by an energetic voice.
“Gwah-ha-ha-ha! It seems we are slightly late! This big oaf was heavier than I expected, so lugging it around took a mighty effort. But now that we are here, everything is fine! So sit back and let your concerns fly away as you enjoy this battle!!”
It was Gabil.
“Whew! Nice one, Sir Gabil! Lookin’ good!”
“Indeed.”
“You’re more manly than ever now! And we’ll follow you wherever you go, so you better be ready for us!”
He had brought along his biggest fans in Team Hiryu, each carrying a chain attached to a huge object—the Demon Colossus, so oversized that it required a hundred people to transport it by air. Its size was no problem as it patiently awaited labyrinth runners down below, but when it came time to travel to the battlefield, the sheer weight was something of a hindrance. In combat, it was a tried-and-true menace—it was just very, very slow. It was a problem, but one overlooked before now since it was quick enough in melee combat.
“This will need to be addressed, but now that you’ve brought it this far, I’ll do the very best I can!”
Gadora was bursting with enthusiasm. He eagerly climbed into the Demon Colossus, itching to score some on-the-field kills with it. As he did, he turned his eyes toward Kondo, only to immediately avert them. King Gazel was engaging him, and he didn’t think it was his place to interfere. He turned to look at Velgrynd.
So the “Marshal” was Velgrynd the Flame Dragon all along… But in that case, it’s hard to tell what Damrada’s aim is. Did he truly swear his allegiance to His Majesty the Emperor? Why did he need to order Bernie’s troupe to protect Masayuki? It makes no sense…but now is no time to stew over it. If Velgrynd makes any moves, this operation is over. I’ll have to keep an eye on her to make sure that doesn’t happen.
With that in mind, Gadora directed the Demon Colossus toward Velgrynd as she gracefully stood there. Seeing him go, Gabil flew up next to Dolph.
“It appears Sir Gadora has signed up to engage with Lady Velgrynd. We will mop up anyone in the way, as discussed.”
“Hee-hee-hee! How reassuring to hear, Sir Gabil. Ready for a joint operation, then?”
“Indeed. We will go up front and engage the enemy. I leave the backup to you!”
“You may!”
Gabil and Dolph exchanged nods. As agreed upon beforehand, Team Hiryu would take charge with their superior combat ability. The dragonewts boasted excellent defenses; killing any one of them would never be easy, and each one was generously granted a Full Potion to boot. Anything that didn’t kill them instantly was totally survivable, so they’d function just fine as their shields.
“Right, Sir Dolph, you take command.”
“Wait, what?!” Dolph exclaimed. This wasn’t mentioned at the meeting.
“Gwah-ha-ha-ha! I am Gabil the Dracolord! Prepare to die!!”
But Gabil paid the confused Dolph no further mind as he made his charge toward his target, one of the men they thought was associated with Kondo.
Gobwa looked on in amazement at Gabil. Her team was the last to arrive, but that was understandable, given that they were the only land-based force to speak of. They still boasted over-A speed, however, and they reached the battlefield just as hostilities began. They had even maneuvered themselves behind the enemy, just as planned.
“If Sir Gabil is challenging that man solo, he must be extraordinarily powerful, I imagine.”
The man next to her refuted the idea.
“You think? He looks like a wimpy guy in glasses to me. The type good at clerical work.”
This was Phobio, the “Black Leopard Fang” and member of the Three Lycanthropeers. He never did return home once all was said and done, and now he found himself following Gobwa into battle. Gobwa was secretly happy about that, but she also had Team Kurenai to run, a post granted by Benimaru, and thus she had a duty to maintain military dignity.
“Sir Phobio, your abilities are beyond reproach, but I think you need to learn how to better evaluate your enemy.”
“Wow, Gobwa, so harsh. Just ‘Phobio’ is fine. I’m no stranger to you.”
“We are on a wartime mission. It is important to maintain operational formality.”
This talk looked like nothing more than friendly flirting to the people serving them. They were stuck in a tense battlefield, but for some reason, there was an odd warmth in the air.
“So what are we doing now?” Phobio asked, suddenly serious.
“We will stay here and wait for the right moment,” Gobwa replied, herself switching gears. “Achieving our tactical objective here is no longer possible; the operation is already a failure. Depending on Lady Velgrynd’s moves, all of us could be wiped out. If our focus was survival, then fleeing is our only viable option, but we haven’t been granted that choice. For now, we must reduce the number of obstacles in our way and lighten Sir Rimuru’s burden as much as possible.”
It took true resolve to make that statement. If Velgrynd could be kept here, Rimuru could use that opportunity to strike down Emperor Ludora—or make him agree to a peace deal. That was the key to all of this. But the moment Velgrynd started sending out copies of herself with Parallel Existence, the operation was doomed.
Normally they should’ve suspended everything at that point, but anyone with enough authority to make that call was currently out of contact. Gabil was supreme commander at the moment, and he wanted to keep this going. Testarossa and the demons agreed with him, and Gobwa had no objection. We’ll do what we can—that was all there was to it.
It was unclear just how many “other” Velgrynds she could create, but they were prepared to stop them all in their tracks—and, if possible, stop Kagali from completing the ritual she was engaged in.
“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”
“No. His Majesty Sir Rimuru would never allow us to die. That’s why I refuse to accept any casualties today.”
The Team Hiryu members all nodded at this fairly absurd order.
“But if Velgrynd goes on the move, you’ve got nothing to stop her, yeah?”
“If it comes to it, we will run and leave it in Lord Gadora’s hands.”
Gobwa gave Phobio a wink. It had enough destructive force to stop him in his tracks.
“Well, all right. I’ll just turn off my brain and stir up a little dust, then. I see someone I wanna settle a score with, too, so I better go say hello.”
Phobio had gone through the painful experience of being tricked by Footman and Teare before. But he didn’t resent them for it—his own inexperience was to blame. In fact, he was even thankful for the opportunity to grow from it. That was his simple, cheerful approach to life, befitting the beastman he was, and it made him feel for his nemesis now that he saw him being manipulated like this.
“Don’t do anything rash.”
“I can’t promise that I won’t…but I swear I’ll make an effort not to die.”
With those words, Phobio joined the fight.
Lieutenant Kondo was up against King Gazel. Gabil was eyeing a bespectacled imperial intelligence officer. Vaughn and Henrietta were squared up against Footman and Teare. Phobio was about to join the fray, while Gobwa and her team were working out their next move. Finally Velgrynd, glowering over the battlefield, caught sight of the Demon Colossus piloted by Gadora.
And thus each battle began.
Meanwhile on the battlefield, Gazel’s mind was as quiet as a passing breeze. He was facing Kondo now—not as a king, but as a warrior and accomplished swordfighter.
Kondo, following Gazel’s instructions, drew his military sword. He was just as quiet, letting out an admiring exhale at Gazel’s stance.
“Hoh… Very impressive. They don’t call you Master of the Sword for nothing.”
This was more than mere flattery. He was being sincere with him. But Gazel just snickered back.
“Nonsense. Coming from you, it sounds like nothing but sarcasm.”
That, too, was sincere. He said it because Kondo’s stance was also a beauty to behold—no visible holes to it at all. He was holding his sword with both hands, deadly serious and never letting his guard down, quite a different approach from the one he took with Footman. Even more surprising: He and Gazel were assuming a totally identical fighting stance, as if they had arranged it ahead of time.
The two of them crossed swords silently a couple of times, gaining a grasp of each other’s abilities. It was clear to both that their similar stances were no coincidence. Gazel learned his swordsmanship under Hakuro, and he still followed Hakuro’s teachings for the core of his style, although he mixed in some of his own techniques as well. This was the Oboro, or Crestwater, a style that was handed down from Hakuro’s grandfather Byakuya Araki, and no one but Hakuro was teaching this style now.
Even Gazel, a student of the Crestwater style, didn’t know everything about it; he knew there were still secrets and techniques to it yet to be discovered. But as the official Instructor of the monster nation, Hakuro was deeply involved with the training of all its soldiers. That included hammering the basics of swordsmanship into them all, naturally, but it was unlikely the Empire was aware of this. Besides, swordsmanship wasn’t something you could just pick up overnight.
So Gazel decided to ask the question. But as he did, Kondo spoke up as well.
“Why do you know the Oboro-style stance like that?”
“I had my suspicions after hearing about you, but your technique is similar to my own Crestwater. Who did you learn it from?”
“…”
“…”
They glared at each other. Gazel was the first to respond.
“Oboro… Are you saying that Oboro is different from Crestwater?”
Kondo pondered the question for a moment, his expression the same as always.
The information I had indicated that in the Dwarven Kingdom, they preferred an orthodox approach to swordsmanship, a blade in one hand and a shield in the other. Does that connect to this?
He didn’t have much information to work with, but Kondo was still close to the right answer. But his silence was making Gazel impatient.
“Are you not going to answer me?”
“Don’t hurry me, please. Your Crestwater style is likely in the same lineage as what I have learned. That’s why I wanted to ask you back—there’s no way this nearly identical sword school just happened to develop on its own in this world, too, is there?”
“Mmm, likely not,” Gazel muttered as he recalled the stories he heard of Hakuro’s grandfather during training. “Sir Hakuro, my master, told me that Crestwater was taught to him by his grandfather. He was a visitor from another world, apparently…and I imagine that explains this.”
Unbeknownst to Gazel and Kondo, Byakuya Araki actually had a younger brother. This was the man who introduced what he called Oboro to Japan, the world Kondo was born in. It was half-sword style, half-mystical art, meant to dispel evil and fend off ghouls and monsters. Kondo had been tapped to be just such a demon hunter, and as part of that he learned what was called the Oboro Shinmei-ryu style in Japan, a style very close to Araki’s original teachings.
“Heh-heh-heh… Funny to see we belong to the same school.”
Kondo looked genuinely amused, a rare thing to see from him. He usually never revealed his emotions, so his chuckling seemed all the more ominous.
“Your Majesty, I have a proposal for you.”
“What is that?”
“As a fellow Oboro user, I offer you my friendship. I see that you are more than strong enough to join our side, my lord. If you disarm yourself and swear your allegiance to the emperor, I promise to cease all acts of aggression against your country at once.”
“And you think I would accept that offer?”
“I do, because if you give it rational thought, you’ll see it is the best way to minimize the damage.”
Kondo was right, Gazel thought. In fact, he couldn’t hope for a better offer. If he wanted to protect the people of the Dwarven Kingdom, saying yes was absolutely the right thing to do. As a monarch, he needed to accept it without any further hesitation. Now that he knew what sort of threat Velgrynd was, there was just no way they could win. Their whole objective for this battle was nebulous, hard to grasp, and they should never have attempted it at all. It was all based on the wishful thinking that Rimuru’s group would settle things with Ludora before any major damage was done.
If I consider my own people…
But before he could finish that thought, Gazel smiled, shaking off his hesitation.
“Ridiculous! If you think you’ve already won, then you have no idea how dangerous letting your guard down is! Such a conceited way of thinking… I’ll teach you a lesson about that!”
With that shout, Gazel focused on the enemy in front of him. All distractions were banished; the defeat of Kondo was the only thing on his mind. Then, with his brain, body, and beloved sword working as one, he unleashed his Saint-level force at full throttle.
The result was a true champion, one who could almost reach the level of an awakened demon lord. And yet, despite seeing Gazel in that state, Kondo remained as relaxed as ever.
“Oh brother. Not as wise as they said you were, are you? Then so be it. Allow me to give you a final lesson before your fame crashes to the ground.”
The words signaled the beginning of a battle between two Saints.
Several minutes passed. Kondo had the upper hand.
He had no problem dispelling the Heroic Aura that Gazel released; running a similar type of spiritual force across his own body canceled all its effects. But even in terms of pure swordsmanship, the difference was clear. Gazel unleashed a skill called Crestwater Thundering Heavens, a series of vertical slashes; yet with some nimble moves of his own, Kondo fought back with Shippu Raiha, a horizontal cleaving technique. This was followed up with Shiden-totsu, the fastest thrusting move in his arsenal, but Gazel parried it with his own Crestwater Slash.
They were members from the same school, so they knew each other’s techniques very well—but little by little, Gazel’s reaction times began lagging. Kondo had mastered more techniques than Gazel.
“Just as I thought. Crestwater features some techniques that are unknown outside of its own school. Even I, as close as I am to the original lineage, do not know all of them. Hakuro was his name, you said? I had my doubts over just how well a mere monster could ever understand the true nature of the blade.”
Kondo was being honest. But he didn’t intend to mock Hakuro at all. The way of the sword was a profound one indeed, passed down from generation to generation uninterrupted. Kondo was proud of his own school, and that’s why he said what he did. But the comment touched a nerve with Gazel.
“You dare insult my master?”
He glared at Kondo, his expression even fiercer than before. And then another person joined them.
“Ho-ho-ho… If that, King Gazel, is enough to disturb you on the battlefield, I see you still need quite a bit more training. Go cool your head over there while I take over for a little while.”
Hakuro, part of the rear guard as Gobwa’s advisor, arrived on the scene.
Kondo looked at Hakuro, instantly recognizing his abilities. The next moment, the piercing clang of steel against steel echoed through the air. Kondo drew his sword and struck with a classical iaido move; Hakuro used his own hidden sword to catch it.
“Oh? You can catch this?”
Heavengaze, Hakuro’s “third eye,” was open on his forehead. It had now surpassed the framework of an extra skill, even going beyond the realm of unique skills, and it allowed him to keep up with Kondo’s sword drawing.
“A brilliant piece of work. But you share in the same school as my grandfather? Strange bedfellows indeed. You may call me a monster, but why don’t you see for yourself just how well I understand the true meaning of the sword?”
“Heh… Interesting. If you’re that insistent about it, let me show you just how good I am.”
Thus began the battle between Kondo and Hakuro, with Gazel there to watch.
Kondo liked his chances. There was no denying Hakuro’s abilities; that much he could tell at a glance. But it was an unquestionable fact from his point of view that no monster could understand the true nature of a sword. Oboro Shinmei-ryu, after all, was a style invented for the purposes of combat against demons. It should have been naturally repellent to monsters, and there’s no way a monster could master it—that conclusion seemed totally natural to Kondo. What’s more, there was no way anyone could imagine that the true founder of Oboro Shinmei-ryu—the elder brother of the school’s creator—would be in this world in the first place.
He can use the school’s innermost techniques, and that was beyond my expectations. But anything beyond that was only passed down to members of the original family. I don’t know how capable this visitor was, but it’d be impossible for him to impart Oboro’s innermost secret moves to a monster.
It was perhaps inevitable that Kondo would use his common sense to come up with that judgment. But it was a big mistake, a rare unadvised assumption on his part, and the cost of making it would be high.
Hakuro and Kondo squared up against each other. The moment they were within killing range, they simultaneously launched their attacks.
“Baika…Goka-totsu…”
Staking his pride as a swordsman, Kondo showed off his well-trained technique. It was a foolish move to make, and he had the temerity for it only because Hakuro was in the same school as him. He thought, in one corner of his mind, that he needed to wrap up this duel quickly and efficiently—but the move he chose would do nothing for that. It was a violent outburst, well out of character for the normally calm, collected Kondo. He wanted to show his prowess to his peers in this world by breaking out the best techniques he knew from the start.
Goka-totsu was a stabbing technique meant to symbolize a plum blossom. It was one of the loftiest techniques Kondo was taught, a closely kept secret that would never be found outside of his own school. A five-strike move, it aimed at five of the ten vital points of the human body—the eyes, throat, heart, kidneys, solar plexus, groin, and (as a diversion) the shoulders. What it aimed at could be changed depending on the current situation, requiring skillful technique to pull off. Few of his fellow swordsmen had mastered this art—and that’s why unleashing it against Hakuro was a miscalculation.
“Multilayered Blossom Flash…”
Hakuro countered with the greatest of his own secret techniques, a continual, flowing strike that slashed the enemy eight times in an instant, in any of a thousand different combinations. Kondo and Hakuro were equal in level, but there was a big difference in their core fighting abilities—and by Hakuro’s reckoning, Kondo was dozens of times more physically gifted than him. If this skill didn’t work, in essence, Hakuro’s defeat was all but certain.
It was with that resolve in mind that he drew his sword.
“Nngh…?!”
“Hohh…”
Kondo was aiming to overwhelm his foe; Hakuro wanted to deliver a fatal blow, even if he had to go along for the ride. That’s what both were hoping for with this clash of skills, but both of them wound up off the mark.
Hakuro’s blade slashed eight times, like a multilayered cherry blossom shedding its buds, faster than any regular person could see. But they were offset by Kondo’s five plum petals, failing to reach their destination. Kondo reared back, and thanks to that, Hakuro only managed to graze his cheek—even that, however, was an unfortunate result from Kondo’s point of view.
“I never thought there was a swordsman in this world who could surpass me.”
Hakuro’s Blossom Flash was superior as a technique to Kondo’s Goka-totsu. That fact shattered all preconceptions for Kondo, forcing him to admit his mistake. But it was still Kondo who won the duel. Hakuro was brilliant up to the point where he offset Kondo’s technique, but the difference in power was too great. The clash just now had cut Hakuro’s arms to gruesome ribbons, rendering them useless.
“Not even the most powerful of my moves could reach you…”
“No, it did. Allow me to apologize for looking down on you. That, and I wish to ask: What was your grandfather’s name?”
Kondo was sorry for looking down on Hakuro as a monster. He wanted to pay his respect to this man, now clearly a better swordsman than he. When it came to the blade, at least, he was a sincere person—but at the same time, he never judged matters based on his personal feelings. That was how Tatsuya Kondo worked.
“Ho-ho-ho! My grandfather was named Byakuya Araki. A swordsman without equal, but he sadly left us for the afterlife long ago.”
“A pity. And Araki is the surname of the head family of Oboro Shinmei-ryu. He may have been related to the founder indeed. If he had at least reached the level of Enlightened, he surely would have been one of the most powerful people in the world.”
Kondo offered him a silent word of prayer. When it came to his own sword school, he was all business. Hakuro looked down on him and sighed.
“My grandfather was an eccentric man, you see. He preferred to live life at his own pace. But do you think you could step aside for now?”
Hakuro decided to risk the question, sensing Kondo’s respect for him. But it was not to be.
“I will ensure you are protected, but I cannot stop this war. The way I see it, the worst thing you can do is take half measures.”
Kondo was nonchalant in his reply. Hakuro assumed as much. He was in no panic about it anyway.
I already knew I was going to lose. I’ll never make it back to the battlefront with these arms, but I suppose I’ve done what I set out to do.
No, Hakuro’s goal here was not victory, but rather to show Gazel how he fought against Kondo. If Gazel Dwargo, Master of the Sword, could see Hakuro’s innermost skills in action, he would be able to understand them and make them his own. Even if he didn’t learn it all immediately, he’d certainly receive some hints, at least. And what’s more, Kondo revealed a secret move of his own—and that would improve Gazel’s chances as well.
“I suppose I am done here, then. No need for further protection. I have zero intention of living in disgrace. If my last moments are nigh, I want to take as many enemy soldiers as possible along with me…but now is not the time. For now, I need to concentrate on healing these hands.”
They were gravely wounded, beyond what even a Full Potion could heal. One of the deepest secrets of Battlewill involved permeating a target with one’s own fighting spirit to destroy it, and Kondo’s spirit had penetrated Hakuro’s defenses during combat. The only way for Hakuro to heal them was to neutralize the force with his own aura. But Hakuro looked unaffected as he turned toward Gazel.
“Now, King Gazel, have you cooled down yet?”
“Of course. Seeing your techniques in motion astounded me, my master.”
“Ho-ho-ho! I actually did not intend to teach you that…but I wasn’t in any position to hold back. The rest, I leave up to you.”
“Yes, Master.”
Hakuro stepped back as Gazel stood in front of Kondo. Then he slipped away from the front lines, holding his head high, as if his part of the war was now over.
Now Kondo and Gazel were facing each other again. Kondo, still ashamed of his own shallowness, mentally flipped the page.
“I suppose I lost my cool a little. That’s enough playtime for now, though. Time to get back to work.”
“Pfft! I hate to say it, but I agree with you. I must live up to my master’s expectations…and so, I will give it my all.”
Kondo and Gazel both looked different from before. They knew each other’s full abilities now, and they were serious about this. Gazel was grateful to Hakuro; if he’d kept fighting Kondo earlier, his defeat would have been inevitable. The secret Goka-totsu move Kondo used would’ve been impossible to defend at first sight. Even if it miraculously failed to fatally wound him, Kondo’s fighting spirit would have destroyed him from the inside like it did with Hakuro, rendering him incapable of fighting.
I didn’t realize all that driven fighting spirit could be so much of a threat. I knew that was one of Battlewill’s most powerful secret techniques…but perhaps I didn’t fully understand it before now.
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