The Devil of All Nations Strikes with Sword Breaker

"Hey, boss—come play with me!"

A smile that was beautiful and yet faintly cruel touched Diana's lips as she strode alone into the assassins' formation. Countless blades sought her. She blocked what needed blocking, let slip what needed slipping, and tore through their ranks with practiced ease before bringing her sword down on Uraros, the assassins' leader.

Uraros raised his curved blade to intercept, and a tremendous metallic crash rang out. Blades locked, Diana grinned, seized the spine of her own sword, and drove him backward with sheer force. Like a bull that had just been rammed, Uraros was shoved clean out of the cluster of his own men.

"Seize the princess!"

The assassins turned to aid him, but Uraros ordered them to keep their focus on the princess and swung at Diana instead. Watching her peel him away from the group into a duel of two, Philia reformed their formation.

"Pairs! Put your backs to the barrier protecting Her Highness and circle right as you defend!"

Philia joined Aria, who was close at hand, and took her stand before the barrier to meet the enemies pouring in. It was their first time fighting together, but Philia had already mastered combination techniques, and she matched herself to Aria's rhythm without hesitation.

She had assumed Aria would have learned this already, yet Aria looked surprisingly awkward, as if this were her first time. Once Philia took the lead in coordinating them, Aria caught her intent and began thrusting in every direction, her guard riddled with openings.

She's using a rapier. I need to make her focus on offense, not defense.

Reading the slender blade in Aria's hand, Philia moved in lockstep behind her, knocking aside every assassin's sword that sought her. With Philia covering her, Aria's rapier stabbed through assassins and snapped back in an instant. The moment she settled into a thrusting stance, the blade came in so fast—ignoring everything around it—that the assassins dared not close.

The two of them held the line with ease. On the opposite side, Zeroa and Abigail were not so fortunate.

"Out of the way!"

Abigail kicked Zeroa in the ribs. Kicking an ally with enemies right in front of them was a dangerous move—but if she hadn't, the assassin's descending blade would have cleaved him in two. Zeroa slammed into the barrier he was supposed to be protecting and stopped short. Clutching his throbbing side, he swung in a panic.

The clumsy cut had no force behind it. The assassin knocked it aside with ease and slashed at him. Zeroa barely ducked the blade, almost collapsing as he did, and scrambled sideways on his rear.

Meanwhile Abigail was holding off several assassins by herself. Alone, she was actually better than when they'd been a pair—overwhelming her opponents, beating back the enemies in front of her, then immediately shifting position to strike again. She was covering a far wider stretch than Philia and Aria's combination, driving the assassins back again and again with raw power.

Zeroa had let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his attention wander to her for a moment, but he had no time to stand there slack-jawed. He rolled across the dirt to dodge a swinging blade, and just as he tried to recover his stance, a sharp sword came dropping toward his face.

Whether it was his life flashing before his eyes or the world simply slowing down, Zeroa watched the blade that was about to split his skull. He had neither the time nor the presence of mind to move. He just stared, dazed, as the edge fell toward him.

A slender rapier stabbed the blade that had been dropping toward Zeroa's head. By a hair's breadth, the assassin's sword glanced past him and struck the earth.

Time snapped back. Zeroa saw Aria, nearly falling over, locked in a desperate thrust. She had forced the strike across an impossible distance to save him, and the momentum sent her pitching forward. Assassins lunged to seize the opening, and Philia scrambled to intercept them.

Throwing her own safety aside to protect Aria, Philia swung—and took a cut across the shoulder.

"Ngh—"

A pained groan escaped her, but she swung again and hauled Aria up with her wounded arm. Using Philia's pull like a springboard, Aria popped to her feet and thrust in every direction. The ferocious assault drove the assassins back.

"Welcome!"

With that booming cry, the retreating assassins were cut clean through at the waist. Diana burst through the bisected bodies and slumped against the barrier. She had felled four of them in a single swing, but she didn't look well herself. Her armor was scored with nicks and cuts, the marks of a fierce fight, and a thin gash showed through a tear along her back.

"You're hurt."

"Yeah, a little. You too, huh?"

"I can still fight."

Philia and Diana talked as they kept their eyes on the front. The wound on Diana's back said plenty. For someone who'd been dueling Uraros one-on-one, a cut there meant she'd either been ambushed or had overextended and left herself exposed. And even Zeroa, who knew next to nothing about tactics, could tell that Diana had forced her way back because the formation had collapsed—because of him.

He couldn't just sit there as dead weight. Zeroa charged the assassin in front of him.

The sudden shift in offense seemed almost welcome to the assassin, whose eyes narrowed as he swung. Zeroa raised his sword in a blocking stance and thrust his empty hand forward.

There was no sound, and yet it felt as if there had been one—a bright, brilliant light bursting right in the assassin's face. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was Flash, the spell Rai had taught him for formula training.

The blinded assassin squinted and turned his head. Thinking he had his opening, Zeroa took another step in and swung.

"Ghk—"

Someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back. His vision spinning, Zeroa slammed back-first into the barrier and looked up, bewildered.

Abigail was glaring at him, furious. The assassin he'd thought had fallen for the Flash was frozen in mid-swing. If Abigail hadn't been there, that assassin—who'd only pretended the spell had worked—would have taken his head. Too late, Rai's warning not to use it carelessly came back to him.

"Don't play hero, you fucking idiot. You're in the way."

Zeroa couldn't look at Abigail's face as she spat those vicious words. Shame wouldn't let him meet her eyes. Aria and Abigail had saved his life. Philia had taken a wound protecting Aria, who'd thrown herself forward to save him. And when the formation fell apart, Diana had come back here despite her injuries.

That was it. All of it was because of him.

Shame, self-loathing, and the misery of the powerless crashed over him all at once. If he'd just died sooner, the rest of them might have made it out unharmed.

"Zeroa! Snap out of it!!"

Philia's shout jerked Zeroa's hanging head back up. There was no time for leisurely self-pity in the middle of a desperate fight. The four of them were swinging at enemies pouring in from every side. Fighting back the urge to cry, Zeroa joined the battle—but with his spirit already in tatters, he was only in the way.

"Zeroa. I think you can take a breather. Oh—would you watch my back?"

Even Diana, with an awkward smile, was telling him to fall back. Swinging his sword wildly without any thought for formation, Zeroa was nothing but a liability. They were short-handed as it was, and yet Diana had chosen to pull him out. Her bitter smile sent him retreating with a darkened face.

Up ahead, four people fought with everything they had. For Zeroa—reduced to a protected burden after doing nothing but get in the way—the tension of the battlefield vanished, leaving only wretched despair.

"As long as you survive, you'll have another chance."

Emilia spoke quietly from inside the barrier. Normally Zeroa would have been flustered, but his spirit was too worn down to even answer. He turned toward her in silence. Emilia held the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unconscious Somneri in her arms, and even in this crisis she hadn't lost her composure. She was looking straight ahead.

"So survive. Live through today, and become a better Zeroa. Today's humiliation, today's shame—they'll be tomorrow's strength."

Emilia ignored the threat right in front of her to offer comfort, but it didn't help him. Those words were meant for the ones fighting out there with their heads held high. She glanced at Zeroa, who was staring at the girls with lifeless eyes, then turned her gaze back to the battlefield.

The situation was grim. Diana had overextended to pin Uraros down, trusting that Philia and the others could hold—but thanks to Zeroa it had all gone sideways, and she'd come back wounded. One-on-one might have been a different story, but holding off Uraros when he was combining attacks with his subordinates was another matter. His strikes came in by surprise as he weaved among his men, and Philia and the others took losses every time. The forced movement was carving away their stamina and mana; they were tiring fast. The assassins' numbers had dwindled, but whether the four of them could last was far more in doubt.

"Fall back!!"

Uraros, who had been pressing Philia hard, sensed something. He shouted and pulled back. Even under the urgent order, the assassins moved as one—but a few who'd gotten too close to Diana were slow to extract themselves.

That split-second delay cost them their lives. Something came flying in and slammed into the assassins with a tremendous crash. The cloud of dirt settled, revealing Rai—bare-handed, gripping an assassin's head and driving it into the ground.

"Raikkang!!"

Diana recognized him first and shouted. Her voice was far brighter than usual.

Rai slammed the assassin he was holding into the ground again, finishing him off, then slowly stood. Blood from the shattered skull had splattered across his face, and his expressionless features looked savage. The atmosphere was nothing like his usual smirking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠self. Philia swallowed without meaning to.

He turned his head, regarded the assassins for a moment, then looked back at Emilia. His mouth opened.

"Bleeegh—"

Philia's eyes went round as she watched Rai drop to the ground and throw up. He vomited freely over the thoroughly demolished assassin's head, then sat down right there, gasping for breath.

"Haaah—guess I really have lost my stamina. I go all-out for one sprint and I feel like I'm dying. Oh, Princess, you're still alive, right?"

Rai spoke in a bright voice, but even Emilia was so baffled she couldn't answer properly, staring at him with a blank look. He had his back completely turned, chatting away cheerfully. It looked bizarre—but one assassin, thinking he'd found an opening, crept toward that exposed back.

"You all ought to thank Tena. She ran herself ragged to tell me you were in trouble."

"Behind—behind—behind!! Raikkang, behind you!"

Diana shouted in a panic, but the assassin was already lunging, swinging at Rai's wide-open back. At the same instant, the air popped—and the assassin went flying backward.

"Nngh—don't rush me. I was just trying to rest for a second because I'm so wiped. What's the hurry?"

Rai struggled to his feet and pounded his thighs with his fists. The assassin had been hurled by some unknown force, but he was unharmed. He immediately rejoined the ranks and raised his sword.

Even with enemies at his back, Rai paid them no mind and walked over to Emilia. He laid a hand on the translucent barrier, checked that she was all right, then let his gaze rest on her shadow as he spoke.

"You didn't run, huh? Loyalty's nice and all, but the kids would've had an easier time without you. Or is it honor, not loyalty?"

"...Thank you for coming to help us, Instructor Rai."

Rai's words and Emilia's reply didn't connect at all. Philia couldn't understand how a princess was supposed to run away on her own. She studied Emilia closely, but learned nothing.

"What's with that dead look?"

He ruffled the hair of Zeroa, whose eyes had gone lifeless, then took the sword hanging limp in the boy's hand. He held it up to the sunlight, turned it this way and that, swung it through the air a few times, and started toward the assassins.

"This expensive? Not some family heirloom, right? Does this look pricey?"

"It's not heirloom-grade, but it's one of Artisan Skella's collection pieces. They usually go for around two hundred gold on the market."

"Shit—then I can't use it."

Philia answered, and Rai, recoiling at the price, tossed the sword aside and stared at her. She looked thoroughly unwilling, but reluctantly held out the sword in her hand. Rai took it with a giggle. He swung it through the air a few times as before, then inspected the blade as he asked,

"Yep, this one's definitely junkier."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"This precious to you? First sword you ever got, sentimental value, that kind of thing?"

"No. I bought it new for training."

"Okay. Consider this one gone."

Philia frowned, not understanding what he meant—was he just casually confiscating a student's weapon? Diana giggled at her thoroughly disgusted expression and sidled up to Rai.

"Raikkang, Raikkang. Stop picking on Philia and use my sword."

"Too expensive. I couldn't pay you back."

Diana didn't understand what he was talking about either, and tilted her head. After telling them to fall back because it was dangerous, Rai dragged the sword along the ground as he walked toward the tense assassins.

Uraros signaled his men to deploy their tactics for facing a powerful opponent, and the assassins quickly shifted positions.

"Don't bother. Stay put. This'll be over soon."

Uraros ignored the arrogance that only the strong could afford, checked that his men were ready, and prepared to attack. The distance was considerable, but Rai settled into a swinging stance with his drooping sword, as if inviting them to strike first. Legs spread, body low—it was a stance poorly suited to movement.

Philia tilted her head at it. That was the kind of posture you used when swinging a greatsword, not a longsword. And even though he was far from the assassins, Rai swung.

The tip dragged along the ground, moving slowly—then suddenly accelerated. The cut was so fast Philia lost track of it midway, but he hadn't fired any mana. He'd simply carved through empty air.

A moment later came a low, humming vibration, then the sound of steel grinding against steel. People winced as the sudden roar stabbed their ears—and the sword Philia had lent him shattered and vanished without a trace. The blade fragments, split into countless pieces as if turning to dust, scattered on the wind and disappeared. All that remained in Rai's hand was the hilt.

"That's... impossible..."

A stunned voice escaped Uraros. He was staring at his own abdomen, from which blood was pouring. It wasn't just him. Blood overflowed from the abdomens of everyone standing in front of Rai. Then their severed upper bodies slowly toppled to the ground.

Trees around them crashed down with a tremendous noise. Nothing in front of Rai was still standing. A clean cutting line unfurled across the landscape, as if the entire space had been sliced by a blade. It was a sight too unreal to believe. Philia's mouth fell open—and so did everyone else's.

Zeroa, pressed against the barrier, heard Emilia murmur the words. She was right. The name Sword Breaker suited Rai perfectly.

An attack so absurd it defied reality had annihilated not only his opponents, but the very sword in his hand. "Broken" wasn't the right word. "Annihilated" fit better. The sword Rai had swung had ignored the laws of nature and simply ceased to exist.

And in that moment, they finally understood why Rai had been avoiding expensive swords.