Chapter 64

Heldt's strike was so fierce that it seemed to tear through not only space but sound itself. The white blade, accompanied by a powerful speed, swung through the night, aiming to sever my innards.

As if in response to that strike, I thrust the knife in my right hand in the shortest straight line, aiming for the neck.

A genius must be killed with one thrust. If I allow even a second breath, I will surely lose. With this one thrust, I must cut his throat and end his life. The silver blade trembled slightly.

At the same time, I positioned the knife in my left hand along the trajectory of Heldt's white blade. I didn't think I could block it, but if I could deflect it or parry it, that would be enough. At worst, if I could alter its course, that would be sufficient. During that moment, I would kill him.

It was a matter of a single breath. I anticipated that the moment I exhaled, this exchange would end. Would the move I had made in time reach its mark, or would it fall short? Sweat ran down my neck.

——Clang——Clank

In the instant of the exchange, I clearly heard two sounds mixed together in a strange composite.

One was the sound of metal exceeding its strength, announcing its own demise. I understood that the knife in my left hand, which I had positioned, had not only failed to alter the trajectory of the white blade but had been broken.

I had been wary of this. After a series of exchanges, the knife's blade had been severely damaged. I knew it could break at any moment. But here?

No, that's not it. Even if it was the first strike, the knife would have broken against Heldt's full power. Up until now, it had only been a test.

With that sound, another. This one was simpler. The wrist of my left hand, which had exerted its last effort along with the knife, was struck by a white flash and broken. I no longer had any sensation in it. Instead, I felt a burning passion in my chest.

I had a premonition. It was intuitive, without any logical basis.

If this continued, the blade extending from my hand would not even scratch Heldt's neck. Before that, my torso would be cleaved in two, and I would die with my burning emotions.

This was bad. If the trajectory was even slightly off, I would die. Reach, reach, reach. The time I had desperately cut must reach its mark. Reach, reach, reach.

In that moment, Heldt's golden eyes shone like those of a fierce beast.

*

In the thinning night, Karia watched the exchange between the two with a blissful expression.

In her hand was a silver longsword, which was supposed to be wielded if Lougis was in imminent danger.

But now, it was no longer necessary. No, for Karia, it was no longer something to be wielded. Her large silver eyes trembled, and her white cheeks were tinged with red from the scene before her.

Lougis's silver blade and Heldt Stanley's white blade cut through the night as if drawing a melody. Lougis's condition was far from good. It seemed as if his neck could be cut off in an instant.

Yet, Karia could not suppress the joy that welled up from the depths of her heart. Her usually composed expression had crumbled, and at this moment, she was letting her emotions flow freely.

That man, Lougis, was standing on the side of the Emblemites, wielding his blade. With resolve in his heart, he was displaying his bravery. It was as if he was being guided by my fingertips.

Ah, could there be any greater joy than this? Karia's heels moved as if numb. Lougis was fighting as I wished, for me. Even that magician, Fiarrato, was surely watching this battle from somewhere. But this battle is not for you, it is for me.

Karia's heart raced. Things had gone well, perhaps too well. A duel with Heldt Stanley was a bit too much. In the worst case, I had considered cutting Heldt's neck from behind.

But now, that was no longer necessary. There was no sign of Karia wielding her longsword. That man, Lougis, was performing a sword dance with all his might, to the limit of his life.

Ah, when standing next to Heldt, his blade was still immature. His steps, though skillful, were not those of a strong warrior. His presence was ordinary. It was hard to imagine him surviving against that genius. Still, even so. Seeing his form, feeling his resolve, how could I trample on it? The only thing I could do was show him my heartfelt respect.

Lougis and Heldt, both were about to enter their final exchange. Lougis's left arm was broken, and the knife in his right hand seemed unlikely to reach Heldt's neck.

Karia had entrusted all her decisions to her heart. If Lougis were to die here, then I must share his fate. That was my duty for bringing him to this battlefield. The greatest respect and sincerity I could show to Lougis.

—But, oh. I wish—

In the midst of this, Karia narrowed her eyes. Despite the intense exchange, she did not want to look away. The sunlight was obstructing her view.

The battlefield was welcoming the dawn.

*

I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my back. I had been waiting for this light, this brilliance. It had arrived just in time.

The sun cut through the night, finally rising to display its glory. With the sunlight at my back, I stood.

Heldt's golden eyes were dazzled by the sunlight. I saw his eyes narrow reflexively. The momentum of the white blade, which was supposed to cleave my torso, stopped. It slashed my side but did not reach my innards.

Right hand, silver knife. Reach. There will never be another chance to take this hero's head. If I don't kill him with this one thrust, he will surely come back. Here, here, I must kill him.

The distance had been completely closed, and the knife was on a trajectory to be drawn into Heldt's neck.

—The sound and sensation of flesh being torn were born in my hand. Ah, damn.

It was an unbelievable scene. My knife had undoubtedly reached the shortest distance.

But, he, Heldt Stanley, had forced his body to move, twisting his upper body to change the blade's path from his neck to his shoulder. The knife, embedded in his shoulder, gleamed with his blood.

This, this unbelievable reaction speed. I felt the breath in my lungs escape. This is the difference between me, the ordinary, and him, the genius. I was certain it couldn't be avoided. Fate had decreed that it would be thrust into his neck. And yet.

Twisting his shoulder, Heldt deflected the knife. He then raised his sword in a high stance. I had no more moves left.

One more move. One more thing was needed to bridge the gap between the ordinary me and the genius Heldt. My chest, my body, was hot. Even in the face of death, my innards were still boiling.

"Farewell, Lougis—my worthy opponent."

Heldt, saying these words, brought his white blade down on my skull, which could no longer retreat. The sunlight gleamed on the blade.

—Ah, I wish. In this hand. One more strike. Yes, just one more strike, if only.

*

Fiarrato's sorrowful sobs mixed with the wind and danced in the air.

The repeated life-and-death exchanges. Each swing of the blade tore at Fiarrato's heart. Again. Again, he was pushing himself. Lougis was reaching for something he could not reach, even with all his might. He should give up. He should run. It would be fine for him. He could live an ordinary life, pursuing happiness within reach. And yet, why?

Fiarrato knew very well that he could not do that. Days of living in resignation, accepting that he could not reach the geniuses. Days of gritting his teeth and still having to look down.

Lougis could not accept that. Fiarrato had painfully realized this in the underground temple. Despite being an ordinary person like me, he was reaching out, even at the risk of his life. Ah, that form is ideal. My ideal.

That's why, because of such a person, Fiarrato La Borgograd decided to make him golden. And yet, at this moment, Lougis was slipping through his fingers.

No. I don't want to accept it. I refuse to accept it. I don't have that kind of purity.

But even so, I couldn't help Lougis with a weapon. I couldn't support him with magic. There was nothing Fiarrato could do in this situation.

So, with tears welling in his eyes, Fiarrato began to weave words.

It was not magic. At this moment, Fiarrato could not use magic against the city. So, it was just words. Words of prayer, perhaps meaningless. But he believed they had some meaning.

There was no doubt. This body, which had embedded the sword in him, which had forged him.

—May this hand find happiness

As Heldt raised his sword to strike, Fiarrato's words slightly stirred the air.