A Perfect Chance to Make Amends
"You. What the hell have you been doing all this time?"
"…?"
Leon tilted his head.
Bergopf's words fell on him like a blade.
"Garbage."
"…What?"
Leon froze with his fingers halfway to lighting a cigarette.
Hold on. He'd fought pretty well, hadn't he? So why—
"Strange. Did you truly receive my talent? Something's off."
"You're the one who gave it to me."
Leon bristled.
"Hmm. Fair enough…"
In truth, Bergopf's misunderstanding sprang from a simple misconception. He had always regarded Leon as someone of exceptional natural talent. The level Leon had already reached when they first met was outstanding for his age.
But that was the foundation left behind by the previous owner of Leon's body. The talent of the new occupant was thoroughly, depressingly ordinary.
So what Bergopf had imagined was genius plus his own talent. What he actually got was mediocrity plus his own talent.
Of course Leon's skill felt somehow incomplete, vague, and unsatisfying.
"Where exactly is the problem?"
Leon asked in earnest. Bergopf was, for now, a powerhouse so far above him that looking up was almost impossible. One glance at how he had just shredded those demons was proof enough. Any criticism from him would be precise. Demons did not lie, which only made it more certain.
Bergopf answered as if he had been waiting for the question.
"You're too scattered."
"…? What does that mean?"
"You're trying to pour far too much into a vessel that size. It's overflowing, dripping everywhere. It might hold for now, but eventually the vessel will crack."
"…"
Leon scowled and took a long drag on his cigarette.
Is that it?
It wasn't irritation. He was turning the words over carefully in his mind. Bergopf meant that Leon was handling too many things without fully digesting any of them.
"Then what should I do?"
"Hmph. Asking so brazenly."
Bergopf snorted, but answered all the same.
"First, find your center. Swift sword, heavy sword, flowing sword, forceful sword, phantom sword—whatever it is. Perfect one sword completely, then layer the others on top of it."
"Mmm."
"Mixing everything together without even knowing that, simply drunk on raw power… To put it another way, you're nothing more than a flesh golem right now—lumps of meat slapped on with no skeleton underneath."
"…"
What a shitty analogy.
Leon muttered inwardly.
"Just because you can do a lot of things, you try all of them, and the result is clumsy and half-baked. Too many shifts mid-swing. Someone of my caliber could get away with it. You can't."
"Hmm."
Leon knew one person who could. Billy. That bastard pulled out whatever sword he felt like using, whenever he felt like it, without the slightest strain. He instinctively chose the optimal move for every situation. Billy's talent sat a full tier above even Bergopf's—world-class, top of the setting. Of course it was possible for him.
For Leon, it was an ability far beyond his reach.
He carved Bergopf's advice deep into his mind. Receiving both talent and a lecture from a devil left him with a strange feeling, but good was good.
Nodding, Leon suddenly asked something he had been curious about.
"Those white robes that died just now. Whose people were they?"
"…Greedy, aren't you. Why should I answer every single question of yours?"
Bergopf, who had been talking freely a moment ago, suddenly pushed back.
"Tch."
Leon clicked his tongue openly.
"Here."
With a flick, he pulled a Soul-Anchoring Stone from his subspace pouch and tossed it through the rift. It was packed with human souls he had been collecting in spare moments.
"…Ahem. As payment, that will do."
The deep furrow between Bergopf's brows smoothed out.
"Those ones are Patsira's underlings."
"Patsira?"
"A maggot who clawed his way up to devilhood with a lowly blade. He has a habit of teaching his gathered rabble cheap blade tricks—even puts on airs of running a proper school."
The Devil of the Blade, Patsira. His subordinates had been using the blade with real skill. Belger, too, had apparently been an officer in one of their organizations.
Then were the Gonghyeol Group's activities Patsira's doing?
Doubt it.
Leon didn't think so. The scale was too large for a single devil acting alone. If a devil's private force could run wild to this degree, the Middle Earth would already have been reduced to Demon Realm livestock long ago.
Leon murmured,
"So that Patsira is someone else's subordinate in turn. And the only ones who can keep a devil as a subordinate are Great Devils…"
Ever since encountering Valcansus's subordinates in the Siruntel Demonic Realm, Leon had done some research on the Great Devils. Information on demons was extremely scarce and tightly controlled by the Church and the Imperial family, but figures of Great Devil caliber had a certain amount of intel circulating. Leon's high status had helped as well.
Sifting through his memory, Leon arrived at a name.
"…Fear. The Great Devil of Fear, Cryptos. Am I right?"
Fear—the concept the Gonghyeol Group had constantly emphasized and invoked. Cryptos was a Great Devil bound to it with almost perfect precision.
"Correct."
"Thought so."
And here Leon realized something else. The reason Valcansus's subordinates had come looking for him last time might well have been because Mazias was Valcansus's subordinate—the same relationship Patsira had with Cryptos.
So I've been marked by two Great Devils now?
Leon's expression turned complicated. Bergopf spoke.
"Train hard. If you fall short of my expectations again, I'll let my sword take a tour of your insides."
Fwoosh!
His form vanished as if he had teleported.
"That crazy bastard."
Whatever the rush was, Bergopf disappeared without waiting for a reply, same as last time.
Aria, who had been waiting quietly behind them, spoke up.
"I felt it last time too, but somehow… he grumbles a lot, yet he's kind."
Leon shook his head hard.
"Fuck. A muscular middle-aged guy being a tsundere…"
It was genuinely horrifying.
A few minutes later.
"He's gone?! Already gone?! In that short a time?! That's impossible!"
Hera seized Leon by the shoulders and shook him hard. Leon's head snapped back and forth.
"Little brother! Call him back! Please!"
"How am I supposed to summon that guy…"
"Weren't you close? Just do it somehow!"
Leon sighed at Hera throwing a tantrum like a child. She seemed far more interested in the existence of a Devil of the Sword than in the fact that Leon had been dealing with one.
Only after five more minutes of whining did Hera finally calm down.
"So, uh. Belger? You definitely took care of him, right?"
At Leon's casual question, Hera's lips jutted out in a pout.
"…I'm really losing face today. Of course I did. Well—whether it was the side effects of the drug or not, his body just started collapsing on its own while we were fighting."
She muttered on, then suddenly her eyes lit up and she drew her sword.
"Hnn. Perfect."
"…!"
Leon clapped a hand to his sword hilt, certain this woman had finally shown her true colors—but that wasn't it.
"Just the chance to make up for it."
She walked lightly toward the rift.
Beyond it lay desolation. Ordinarily, demonic beasts would have been pouring endlessly from a Demonic Realm Gate, but Bergopf had left trailing thick waves of devilish energy, and nothing stirred.
Realizing what Hera intended, Leon and Aria quietly stepped back.
"Watch carefully."
Hera murmured, then stood still with both swords hanging at her sides. She closed her eyes as if gathering focus.
"…"
A heavy silence settled.
A profound stillness rose.
There was no flashy prelude.
Hera was sinking into her own world. The microcosm contained within her began to move.
"…"
Leon watched, not even daring to breathe.
Closing a Demonic Realm. Sealing a passage torn open between dimensions. How could a mere human possibly accomplish such a thing—alone, with nothing but a sword, that most primitive of tools?
It defied easy imagination.
But that was what a Master was.
Superhumans who had shattered the limits of their species. Warriors who had stepped beyond common sense and comprehension, who had rewritten the principles and truths of the world itself—who had set foot in the realm of transcendence.
Tap. Tip-tap—
The dark clouds Leon had scattered earlier began to gather again. Raindrops crept out and timidly struck the wrecked plaza floor.
The warmth bleeding from dead beasts cooled. The blood began to thin and pale.
Moisture beaded on Aria's long lashes.
A droplet traced the scar carved into Leon's cheek.
Flash!
That was when Hera's eyes opened.
Song of Sword and Death
— Chorus —
What divides life from death is a single line.
How could that not be beautiful?
A beautiful thread of light was carved into the world.
KRRAAAAAAAAAAACK—!!!
And then—
Her sword leapt beyond dimension and law, and cut the passage linking Middle Earth to the Demon Realm.
