That Damn God
The strongest.
For a man who swung a sword, was there any sweeter word in existence?
—Raiga. You are a genius the mortal world will never see again.
—Can I become even stronger?
—Of course. You will be the strongest man alive!
The place where Raiga opened his eyes was a slave market.
For a war orphan, there was nowhere else to go.
Sold from place to place, he drifted until he met the previous master of the Palga. From that day forward, Raiga swung his sword without missing a single day, determined to become the strongest—and at last he was recognized as the Imperial First Sword.
He devoted himself to the man who had seen his worth, and to the Empire itself. The exploration of the Abyss—work that would have demanded more lives than any one man possessed—he carried out again and again.
—Filthy blood.
—At the end of the day, isn't he just a war orphan?
—A mongrel with no pedigree, daring to…
—Even breathing the same air as him is revolting!
There were those who refused to acknowledge him all the same.
Which was why he needed Sacred Blood.
If the Emperor himself bestowed Sacred Blood upon him, no one would dare fault his origins. Failing that… only overwhelming martial force. Power so absolute that none could even dream of opposing it would force them to their knees.
So he had to be the strongest.
To build the world I desire, I must always be the strongest.
A world where talent alone was enough to realize one's will. A world where effort, regardless of birth, could still bear fruit! An ideal Empire where everyone recognized that truth—and was recognized in turn.
That was how Raiga wanted to remake the Empire. That was why he clung so fiercely to the word strongest.
"Fifth Gate—open."
…Even if it killed him.
Shuuuuuk!
Crimson energy surged upward. Blood beaded across his skin, then evaporated, oxidizing together with his mana. In that state, Raiga's physical power and mana density multiplied dozens of times over—an explosive surge of strength purchased with death itself as collateral. A last-resort technique.
But the Fifth Gate's sole weakness was duration. At most, a few minutes. If his opponent dragged things out, or if he failed to settle the match within that window, defeat was certain.
"I would understand if you ran. As I am now, I am the strongest."
"…"
Sreung.
Wilhelm raised his sword. The smile at the corner of Raiga's mouth deepened.
He would not run. The sheer audacity of meeting everything head-on.
As expected.
He had known. Wilhelm would never dodge. Through the clash of their blades, Raiga had come to understand Wilhelm to a degree—just as Wilhelm had come to understand him.
Both of us are twisted.
Wilhelm was warped. Not normal. But so was Raiga. And so he felt a kinship. A duel between two abnormalities—yet both of them built on effort beyond imagination. Monsters of grit and diligence who never, ever quit.
When had he last tasted a feeling like this? The thrill that came every time he faced a stronger enemy. But at some point, rivals worthy of opposing him had vanished. And even so—this particular shiver, this particular pleasure, was something he had never known.
…Yes. For the first time.
For the first time, Raiga had met an opponent to whom he wanted to show everything he was.
So please.
I hope neither of us has cause for disappointment.
The moment the true finale began, the player chat filled with nothing but endless strings of dots. No one had the presence of mind to type anything else—nothing else even formed in their heads. They were being hit with a kind of shock they had never experienced before.
Wilhelm and Raiga. Hundreds of thousands of people stood in the same place—and not a single one of them could intervene. Both camps could only watch, trembling. The duel was reducing everything around them to scorched earth. For the first time, everyone was witnessing the two men's true power.
That single question rose in every mind. Debate over just how strong Wilhelm was had always existed. Some called him the strongest, beyond any comparison. Others claimed he was overrated—a blowhard. Almost no one had ever seen Wilhelm swing his sword in earnest. He only ever went all-out when facing a Trial or settling a true match.
But that was not the whole of it. From the beginning, the players who had possessed bodies in Pangenia had deliberately concealed and monopolized information. At times they distorted it, running countless schemes. Information was power, and the more tightly one monopolized it, the greater the profit. Naturally, Wilhelm had been a thorn in their side. The man presumed to be Phantom had freely poured his know-how onto the website, and countless people had used that information to break through their walls.
That was why. Why the Eight Heroes Society and certain other powerful players had quietly turned "Find Phantom" and "Obstruct Wilhelm" into content. Why they had diminished Wilhelm's achievements and engineered his undervaluation—so that no one would idolize him.
But every one of those schemes was powerless before reality. Before the truth.
Everyone cried Wilhelm's name as one. They knew now. What was false, and what was true.
…And who was the strongest.
It was war.
A duel of two men, and yet it lacked nothing of a full-scale war. But their fight did not last long.
In a single instant—right before every watching eye—
"…"
"…"
Wilhelm's sword—brought Raiga down.
Thud.
A blade cast toward the ground. Raiga, called the Empire's strongest, who had overwhelmed everyone, who had seemed to have no equal—threw his own sword to the floor. The blood-red aura that had overflowed his entire body faded away. He had given everything, shown everything, and still he had not reached.
"…Unbelievable."
There was no strength left in Raiga's voice. The body that had swollen as if ready to burst shrank in on itself; his voice cracked a thousand ways and withered. He stood now on the threshold of death. And still, he had not reached.
…Raiga had never met a monster like this. Which only made him more curious.
"One question. Is the Demon King stronger than you?"
About the Demon King's power. Because a monster that had defeated even a Wilhelm like this had once existed. The failure of the Great Expedition—and the one who had killed Wilhelm—still remained in this world, did they not? If so, then losing to the strongest would not be a loss at all. Tense, he asked.
Wilhelm answered.
"Weaker."
"…!"
The Demon King was weaker than him? Then why had he lost? Perhaps, as the Kingdom of Valan had announced, there was some other reason.
Still—it was a relief. Raiga let out a quiet breath of ease.
"However."
As if something more important remained. Wilhelm looked around him, then slowly opened his mouth.
"You will need to prepare. The Demon King to come will not be as he was before."
…What did that mean? No one fully understood Wilhelm's words. But it was enough. Raiga's expression hardened; he squared his chest.
"I, Raiga—once called captain of the Palga Knights and Imperial First Sword—"
…He had not achieved his dream. But meeting a twisted bastard like this, sharing his final moments with him—that was fortune enough. Perhaps he had been waiting for a day like this all along. The day he would meet an overwhelming genius who surpassed him, and accept defeat.
His shoulders felt light. He felt almost free. A man like this would surely be able to change it.
"—acknowledge Wilhelm as the strongest."
…This damn world as it was.
The instant Raiga declared his defeat—
Thud—!
He collapsed. Death was racing toward him.
Swaaaaaah!
A vast shadow of despair unfurled across the entire field. The shadow came to a halt before Wilhelm and Raiga. Looking at that shadow of despair, Wilhelm said, with gentle eyes:
"…What a good child you are."
He had recognized Lucaria, weeping inside the shadow. Wilhelm slowly reached out his hand.
"Were you trying to protect everyone?"
His outstretched hand touched the shadow. At once, countless black hands flinched and froze. The despair that had bloomed to dominate hundreds of thousands—the fact that it had followed them this far—had all been to protect everyone from Raiga. Wilhelm understood that. Stroking Lucaria's shadow as if soothing it, he said:
"It's all right. The bad man who made you cry—I brought him down. Leave what comes next to me."
Ssssssss……
One by one, the black hands turned to smoke and began to vanish. The haze that had wrapped the entire tower evaporated as if it had never been.
"You really are a good child."
Wilhelm smiled faintly. The shadow that had driven everyone to despair and made them tremble—to him, it looked like nothing more than a child's adorable sulk.
"W-what?"
"Where are we?"
Those who had been dominated began, one by one, to come to their senses. A crowd of fully half a million looked around in confusion.
"Th-that is…"
"What the hell is that?"
And then—
Eternal Randolph has completed his metamorphosis.
Crack!
The ant's carapace split, and something burst free.
Eternal Randolph! The being that damn god had poured even more effort into raising than into himself. The one he had been goaded to try defeating—standing right before him.
Twisted, too.
That creature called Eternal Randolph also seemed considerably warped. But it felt familiar. Was it because they shared the same pain? Or because he, like Wilhelm himself, was twisted to the point of madness?
Wilhelm steadied his breath and gripped his sword.
Watch closely, you damn god.
It was darkness.
A place so dark that not even an inch ahead was visible. I thrashed as if trapped in a swamp, and could do nothing at all. From there, I watched Wilhelm far in the distance.
So this is what it felt like.
Having one's body controlled. I finally understood what Wilhelm had felt when I controlled him. In this state of absolute helplessness, Wilhelm had never given up.
It was not only powerlessness. Unpleasant sensations pressed in without end—a well that made you want to abandon everything, that made you want to forget it all.
This is on a different plane from the Creation of Heaven and Earth I used.
So I decided not to give up either. I would stay still and watch Wilhelm's life unfold. Watch his movements, learn from them, and build a firmer foundation.
"…Remarkable."
But all I could do was marvel. This was a different class entirely from the swordsmanship that had merely existed in my memory. Wilhelm's swordsmanship, used fully by Wilhelm himself—this was the first time I had seen it like this.
And so I understood. How hard he had worked even here. How completely he had given his all, again and again. How many times he must have wanted to quit—and how he had not, because of me. How tirelessly he had struggled to make a voice that could not reach me reach me anyway.
And I had never recognized it. No wonder he cursed me as that damn god.
"Go wild, then. I'll watch properly this time."
I focused. So that I would not miss a single movement, a single breath. So that I could face the being called Wilhelm in full.
The moment we could finally face each other for the first time.
…Because only now was I ready to hear Wilhelm's voice.