The Trial (3)
I saw Aria. She was in tatters. Just like last time, and now again. I couldn’t protect you completely. I always leave you covered in wounds. I’m sorry. Truly.
Was it because I couldn’t control my anger? Azazel’s expression darkened a little. Her face looked bleak. She trembled as she spoke.
“It’s my fault. If I had just stopped Aria from following, if I hadn’t lost to that tin can…”
Thud. I placed my hand on her small head. I half-expected her to snap at me for being rude or unpleasant. Surprisingly, she stayed quiet. Azazel’s trembling eyes lifted to meet mine.
You’re not so different, are you? You wrap yourself in a prickly shell because you don’t want anyone to see the weakness inside. Even if that shell hurts others, you could never take it off. You were too afraid of revealing how fragile and soft you really are.
“It’s all right.”
Her red eyes widened in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected those words.
“Take care of Aria’s wounds.”
“Y-yes.”
Azazel staggered toward Aria. Even a mage knows basic healing spells, and this was Azazel Anaide. I could trust her with it. I breathed easier.
I exhaled slowly and looked at the man before me—clad in frozen, scorched armor, gripping the Holy Sword. The prickle across my skin wasn’t only from the cold blade. The overwhelming pressure, the crushing presence radiating from him belonged to a being who had tasted death in its entirety. Perhaps one whose sword tip had even reached the Demon King’s throat. The true hero acknowledged by the Holy Sword itself.
-Is it over?
He had been waiting. Not for anyone else—for me.
Heat flooded my head. I raised the Holy Sword. It was meant to exist alone; that was why it was called the Holy Sword. How could multiple ones exist? Those trivial details didn’t matter. What mattered was that Aria had been hurt, and I had failed to stop it.
“Thanks for waiting.”
My voice didn’t shake. I had crushed the rage that had risen to its limit, so that was only natural. Calm, yet not calm at all.
-Why aren’t you coming? Do you plan to kill all those girls first?
A cheap provocation. I knew it, yet my grip on the Holy Sword tightened painfully. Getting worked up was a bad idea. The blade would tremble, precision would suffer, and my vision would narrow.
Look at me now. In my eyes, there is only you.
What was the point of spitting out meaningless words like I can’t forgive you or I’ll kill you? I swallowed the quiet-burning hostility. I swallowed the flames again and again until the firewood that was myself began to burn.
“It will be different from before.”
Last time I had been defeated pathetically. Saying I let my guard down meant nothing. If I lost, I died. If I died, it was over. By some miracle I had been given a second chance. I knew my opponent was no pushover. I had already felt it on my own body.
-I hope so.
Knowing that, I tightened my resolve. I would go all-out from the beginning. I loosened my grip on the Holy Sword more than before.
One step. Two steps. Three steps. The distance between us shrank with every movement. I gradually picked up speed, racing across the space. At a certain point, I collided with the previous hero.
Clang! Metal rang out. Holy Sword met Holy Sword. It was heavy. Crossing blades with him taught me the truth in my bones.
While we strained against each other in a contest of strength, his blade slithered toward my side like a snake. The same pattern as before. If I allowed it, I would be finished instantly. Did he think I was so pathetic that he could use the same move twice?
I seized his chain-gloved hand. I tried to slam him down, but he read my intent and attempted to throw me instead. If I let this continue, he would use my own power against me. I couldn’t allow that.
I shoved him away with my left foot. Our locked swords parted and he staggered back.
Kaang! I had assumed too quickly that he was simply retreating. In a flash his sword streaked toward my head. Fast. Efficient. If I hadn’t yanked my blade back in time, I would have lost my skull. The strike made my hair and every fine strand stand on end. This was no ordinary skill.
Yet I refused to simply admire it. I moved my sword. Kang! The bastard had grown faster than before. Kaang! I barely matched him. Clash! He accelerated steadily. Kang! This time it was razor-close. The sword itself seemed to cry out. The previous hero drove me without pause, pressing like a rising tide—waist, wrist, shoulder, solar plexus. He targeted vital points with effortless freedom.
I was reduced to frantic parries. As responding grew harder, small wounds multiplied. The previous hero’s ability was overwhelming. It felt like facing a master. I was several moves behind in swordsmanship, raw strength, and tactical thought. Every aspect crushed me completely.
When I regained my senses, I was rolling across the ground. His sword chased me instantly. I swung the Holy Sword upward from below. A mistake. The awkward posture strained my body and I couldn’t put real power behind it.
Boom! The Holy Sword spun in an arc and flew away. He wasn’t the type to miss such an opening. A chilling premonition struck. I forced my burdened body to move desperately. A long scar gouged the ground where I had rolled moments earlier. I had barely dodged.
I detonated the earth beneath his feet using the magic I had learned from Azazel. But he had predicted it, dodging lightly and closing in. The Holy Sword that had flown away was still too far. I had no way to counter his strikes.
I stomped, forcing the terrain to rise. I wasn’t as proficient as Azazel, but I could manage it somewhat. To him it must have looked as if the ground had suddenly erupted. Slice. The protruding earth wall was cut apart like paper. It bought me only a few seconds. Still, that brief window was enough to reclaim the Holy Sword.
I swung it again to meet his attack. Kaang! The magnificent strike sent my body skidding backward.
-Pathetic tricks. Are you a hero or a squirrel?
My teeth ground together. I had recovered the Holy Sword, but at the cost of too much stamina. We faced each other at a proper distance. His breathing remained perfectly even. Only I was panting.
The previous hero spoke.
-How pitiful. With that, do you really think you could even slice the Demon King’s nails?
“You talk too much for someone who won’t be doing any slicing himself.”
-I cannot understand why Karelin would choose a man with such a light sword as hero. It is incomprehensible.
I had heard the same thing during our first fight. That for a hero, my sword was too light. Ridiculous. What did light or heavy even mean for a sword?
“Unlike you, who is already complete, I am still growing.”
-Do you believe such crude excuses will work in a battle of life and death? Are you saying that simply won’t do?
My teeth ground harder.
“Are you lecturing me?”
-If you had stopped me, those girls would not have been hurt. Isn’t that right? You need to take your defeats more seriously. You are a hero. You must not lose to anyone.
The words bordered on obsession. That was why they felt so absurd.
“Does even the previous hero lack that much peace of mind?”
He laughed.
-I told you before.
He moved.
-Defeat me. If you cannot, you will die.
His sword came. Boom! My body was blasted backward. More ferocious, more savage, stronger than before. Had he been holding back?
-Not you, but the things you hold dear will vanish before your eyes.
I would not allow it. I would not let them slip from my hands like before. I had changed. I had lived in order to change. Here, I would prove I was no longer the same as when I lost my sister.
He took his stance. A thick, dark killing intent washed over me. I tasted the feeling of weak prey standing before a predator. I could not win. He was absolute. Resistance was impossible. Fragmented, negative emotions gnawed at my mind and slowed my movements. I shook my head. When had I only ever fought battles I could win?
“You think I’ll lose just because you say that?”
I would not lose. I shook off my stiffened legs and the frightened part of myself, then charged. A stance as solid as a castle wall. A posture without a single gap. Moving carelessly would invite a counter. I knew that. But charging in anyway was my way. Forcing the strike, prying open the cracks—that was how I fought.
Kaang! Holy Sword crashed against Holy Sword. The blade screamed. I moved my arm faster than before. He answered every blow. Probing like this would achieve nothing. I needed a heavy strike.
I gathered light into the Holy Sword. It pulsed black. He gathered blue light as well. A Holy Sword burning azure. Black and blue clashed. The instant the blades met, a deafening roar erupted like a bomb. The violent recoil hurled me into the air. How many meters did I fly? The world spun.
Where is he?
He chased me through the air. I was already dizzy, yet he showed no mercy. His Holy Sword blazed blue. If you want to try it, then try. I gathered light into my own blade. We collided again in mid-air.
Boooom! Both of us landed safely on the ground. The blue flames on his sword still burned bright. They refused to go out. Then mine would not go out either. I could not extinguish them. If the previous hero could do it, so could I. I, too, was a hero.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Every clash of our swords birthed an explosion. Like fireworks, they lit the dark night.
My arm broke. It didn’t matter. Several ribs were gone. It didn’t matter. My leg twisted. It didn’t matter. Blood filled my throat. It didn’t matter. Blood from the gash on my head flowed into my eyes, blurring my sight. It didn’t matter. I did not release the sword. Not the sword.
-Your will to endure is admirable, yet the result remains the same. You will lose.
It was frustrating, but the bastard was right. There were no variables. No matter how many times I pushed my body past its limits to keep up, he simply raised his level again. You’ve come this far? Then I’ll go higher. You follow again? Good—can you handle this? That was how it went. Did that man have no limits?
“I will not lose.”
I could not lose here. If I fell, who would protect them? One who had something to protect had to become strong. Had to be strong. Otherwise they could not protect anything. They would lose it all.
-In that condition? You’re no different from a walking corpse.
A metallic taste filled my mouth. There wasn’t a single unharmed spot on my body.
-The hero of this generation is pathetic. Karelin was mistaken after all.
He was utterly relaxed. The casual reaction made bile rise in my throat.
“Cough.”
I wanted to argue back, but my body made it impossible. He raised his sword. Just before it came down—
A fierce voice rang out.
“Shut your mouth!”
The sword stopped. The previous hero tilted his head in puzzlement and looked behind him.
-……?
A woman with black hair stood there. She wasn’t standing on her own. Her whole body was drenched in blood and she leaned heavily on Azazel for support. Yet her eyes did not waver.
“Don’t you dare judge him as you please.”
Her words were flat.
“Pathetic? Not in the slightest.”
Steadfast as unshakable faith.
“Ain is more magnificent than any hero who came before him.”
There was belief in her voice.
“He will never lose to the likes of you.”
Those words. That faith. They were so heavy.
“She says so?”
Strength surged through my body. Energy flooded my limbs. After receiving encouragement like that, losing would be too disappointing. At the same time the Holy Sword burst with radiance.
-Oh.
Was that admiration or a sigh? The shape of the Holy Sword in my hand changed. The wounds covering me healed.
“Looks like I can’t lose yet, you bastard.”
The second round had begun.