Cervito 6
A brilliant white radiance shone under the six suns of Cherbito. White streams of energy coiled over the golden blade. The mana density surpassed even a seasoned 5th Circle high mage.
A colorless wave spread in all directions. The landscape warped along the edge of the Ascension Sword.
"That boy... His name is..."
"Licht Sientia!"
The spectators who recognized him shouted one after another. The boy who had appeared like a comet, felling Cherbito's powerhouses in single strikes—it was inevitable he'd become the talk of the town. At the very least, no one in this arena didn't know Licht's face.
In the meantime, Licht slowly surveyed his surroundings.
"......"
The chaotic air from moments ago had vanished. People chattered animatedly about him, while the faction elders and nobles in the VIP seats stared down in shock, leaning over the rails. Behind and beside him stood Aila and Vito, their eyes wide as saucers. Vito's blue robe was in tatters—clearly not normal—and Aila looked intact on the surface, but her presence had weakened considerably.
'Did they cast some large-scale spell?'
It made sense right after the match ended.
"Who... are you?"
The man facing Licht spoke. No change in his expression, but he couldn't hide the faint embarrassment and displeasure seeping into his tone. It was the same line Licht had heard back in Artal.
Licht glanced at the stands again without a word. Amid the still-rowdy crowd, a few shadowy figures lurked here and there.
'Some remnants left, huh.'
This confirmed it. The Palenia Holy Kingdom backed the former Executor, Bryce.
He had killed all seven assassins before. They were exceptionally well-trained killers. If the opponent hadn't been Licht, they could have held their own against top-tier Sword Experts assuming they struck first.
'And yet.'
Even after losing such personnel, they mobilized this many. It was impossible without outside help.
Even now, those figures faintly emanating holy power stared at the man in confusion at the sudden turn of events.
'They'll handle it themselves.'
Licht ignored them. It wasn't irresponsibility—he trusted Shult. With their prior agreement, the cleanup would be flawless.
More importantly, the enemy before him demanded attention.
Having sorted his thoughts, Licht spoke emotionlessly.
"Licht."
"...What?"
"No need for more than that."
Wooong!
The five rings whirling fiercely around his heart made the light blooming over the Ascension Sword blaze even brighter. The fully stabilized circles surged with unrelenting ferocity.
Licht lightly gripped the sword downward.
"You'll die here."
"......"
"Surrender. I'll make it painless."
Arrogant words without equal. Bryce furrowed his brow.
Not only had this blue-eyed boy foiled his plans, but he insulted him to his face. It'd be weirder if he wasn't pissed.
No sooner had the words ended than mana and some alien energy stirred from various parts of his body.
Licht spoke without turning his head.
"Fall back."
"...Huh?"
"You're in the way."
Whoosh!
Aila and Vito's bodies floated up and slammed into the arena's corner. A hemispherical barrier of pure white mana enveloped them. All done with mere will, without even shifting his gaze.
"What the...."
Vito let out a sigh at the absurd mana control—but only for a moment.
Claaang!
A piercing metallic screech echoed through the arena from its center.
The Ascension Sword, cloaked in white mana over its golden blade, intertwined with the Execution Sword, holy power gleaming gold over its pristine blade.
"You bastard...!"
Once could be coincidence, but twice? Even if excommunicated, he was once an Executor—yet this boy kept up with his strike. And in raw power, he wasn't pushed back at all.
Bryce's face twisted as realization dawned.
"What are you? Why interfere with our work?"
"Interfere?"
Kagagak!
Fragments of white mana and holy power sprayed everywhere. With their crossed blades between them, Bryce asked in genuine confusion.
Licht, subtly lowering his hand from the guard to tighten his grip on the hilt, replied.
"A dying man. Talkative."
Kiiieek!
As the Ascension Sword slid down the Execution Sword's blade, the deadlock broke. Bryce retreated a step, his face paling in panic. Licht was already upon him.
A speed that could slip past perception in an instant. His unique magic, Tempest, and mana-reinforced body outpaced even a former Executor's reactions for that split second.
Bryce reflexively raised his sword hand.
Craaaack—!
"Kuh!"
Bryce gritted his teeth against the shock transmitted through his blade to his grip. The aftermath of blocking the previous strike pushed his body back.
Instinct screamed warning. Raising his eyes, he saw Licht extending his left foot mid-stride.
Tak.
The moment his foot hit the ground, the boy crouched low. A tiny opening was enough.
Left arm extended long, right hand pulled back. He assumed the fourth form of Shyrta.
Piiiing—
A strange sound pierced his ears as he took the stance. White mana gathered on the blade, rippling as if about to burst.
"You...!"
"Take this."
The condensed mana blazed brilliantly.
Shyrta, Fourth Form: Pénetro.
Flash!
Light flickered in an instant. Mana flowed down the golden blade in a straight line.
Kwaaaaaang!
A deafening explosion tore across the air.
***
"Palenia's Executor? Why the hell would they...?"
"That sword—it's the Ascension Sword. How does he have Orkin's holy blade...?"
"Shyrta! It's Shyrta!"
"Shult Elder, answer us! Who the hell is that boy? Orkin imperial blood?!"
The VIP seats erupted in chaos. Faction elders and high nobles poured out questions indiscriminately.
Inside the arena, shrouded by an invisible barrier, flashes of light and surging holy power amid them turned it into pandemonium. Mages' heads exploding one by one, revealing Palenia's Executor. Then the black-haired boy blocking his path.
Not content with sword aura only top Experts could muster sweeping the field, space itself tore open to reveal Orkin's holy sword.
Foreign nobles sensitive to international sentiment already fretted over how to report this.
"Silence!"
Shult bellowed. A massive staff materialized in midair.
Tak!
It struck the ground, and dozens of figures scattered across the stands burst simultaneously.
Spluuurt— Boom boom boom!
"Wha—what the fuck?!"
"Kyaaak!"
"Th-they're dead! People are dying!"
The dazed spectators overlooking the arena burst into uproar again. As things spiraled out of control, Shult had wiped out the remnants acting independently with a single spell.
"Sh-Shult Elder!"
"What is this madness?!"
"Killing innocent Elzion citizens? Even for you...!"
"You have eyes, yet fail to pierce the truth—like the blind. They still look like Elzion citizens to you?"
Some glanced at the exploded corpses. An alien energy faintly emanated from the mere chunks of meat.
"Dane, I can't see."
"You mustn't look, miss."
Seriel's guard Dane covered her eyes and ears. The young girl squirmed uncomfortably, but Dane didn't budge.
"Holy power..."
"Did Palenia start this? Why?"
"Hmm..."
The landscape warped over the dozens of figures. He'd spread mana to pinpoint enemies, marked coordinates in their bodies with space magic, then detonated spells inside.
Realization hit, and everyone in the VIPs stared at Shult like a monster. Elzion's only two 7th Circle archmages—one leading Barte's faction. The fact sank in vividly.
Palenia's remnants had overlooked something. A 7th Circle archmage was a force maybe one per major kingdom. Shult rarely showed direct combat magic, so they mistakenly thought numbers and hostages could handle him.
That was their downfall. They paid for ignorance with death.
As all eyes watched Shult warily,
Roarrr!
Craaaackle!
Kwagwagwang!
A massive flame and fierce ice storm struck the arena. But an invisible barrier wrapped around it, dissipating them before they reached below.
"Paolo Elder. Angelo Elder."
"Firing spells out of nowhere! Have you lost your minds?!"
"It's a supreme holy barrier. No ordinary magic scratches it."
The culprits: elders from Brave and Burneck factions. Their smirks faded as their sure-kill strikes fizzled; half-mad, they clung to Shult.
"Shult Elder! M-my disciple's still in the arena..."
"Elia’s in the waiting room! Please..."
"Hah..."
Shult let out a hollow chuckle. These two, infamous for ironclad pride among elders, begging was a rare sight.
Yet no one here scolded them. Vito Berni. Elia Firvio. Boy and girl prodigies reaching 4th Circle before twenty. Especially talented young mages they cherished.
With prized disciples at risk of death, face meant nothing. Vital talents to uphold Elzion's future.
Eyes turned to Shult again. Breaking the supreme holy barrier needed every second, but his space magic could bypass it entirely.
"I'll save them. So back off. Why get all clingy now?"
"Then...!"
"Tch, damn. Wanted to watch that swordplay, but it's all fucked. Promise is a promise, though..."
Shult raised his staff regretfully. The large gem at its tip glowed as it slashed the air.
Pajijik!
A passage big enough for one person crackled open amid the sparks.
"Everyone stay put. Don't make this annoying."
Or he might kill anyone wandering about. His calm tone left no doubt it wasn't empty.
Not just outside—the arena interior, including waiting rooms, had staff present, ripe for hostages.
As Shult stepped toward the rift,
"Shult!"
A young girl's voice halted the old mage. Turning, he saw Seriel, escaped from Dane's arms, looking up at him.
"Where you going?"
"To rescue the rest."
"Take long?"
"Hmm..."
He glanced below. Fierce sword clashes still raged. Shult sensed it—the overwhelming mana waves blanketing the holy power.
"Not long."
"How long exactly?"
"Close your eyes and count to thirty slowly."
Pajik!
He stepped through the rift.
"I'll be done by then."
Hwaaak!
The split air contracted to a point, swallowing Shult in blue light. Lost mana fragments dripped like raindrops.
The girl watched endlessly.
***
Clang!
Ka-clang!
Craaaang—!
The recoil in his hands. A solid hit. Beyond the Ascension Sword bisecting his vision, Bryce flew back.
Having taken Shyrta's fourth form head-on, Bryce's movements had dulled considerably. He slowly rose, barely regaining balance.
Kwak!
He stabbed the Execution Sword into the ground. Casually wiped blood from his mouth.
'Tough bastard.'
His body wasn't normal. The mobility-focused leather armor was shredded long ago, fresh red blood seeping through.
Yet aside from that one major gash, no wounds marked him. Even the fresh scrape was healing rapidly under holy power.
'Still.'
He'd win. Licht was certain.
When was his first Swordmaster-level foe? Around stacking six rings, from memory. All he had then: six instinctively woven rings without guidance, a few sword techniques eyeballed and mimicked.
Yet defeat never crossed his mind. Amid life-or-death, flashes of insight always came, tiny edges compounding into vast gaps.
Compare to Bryce before him.
'Weak.'
The Palenian Executor from his past life was the 4th Seat powerhouse. Not some rookie scraping the bottom.
His swordsmanship with the pristine holy blade was crude by comparison. No match for Licht, with five stabilized rings and 8th Circle insights.
Step.
As he closed in, Bryce spat in boiling rage.
"Shyrta... Ascension Sword..."
Trailing words.
"What are you? Why block me? Some fallen Orkin prince with succession rights?!"
He vomited pent-up frustration. A done deal dragged out by one boy—panic set in.
"No."
Licht answered curtly. Raised the Ascension Sword. Sunlight blazed vividly on the golden blade.
"Orkin imperial blood bears golden aura and mana."
"Wait, that form is..."
"Not some successor."
A fierce mana storm swirled at his feet.
"I'll show you."
Palenia's secret swordsmanship, rider stance.
"What a true Execution Sword is."
He kicked off the ground.
Kwaang!
In an instant, the boy's form became a streak of light. From the blade's tip flowed the swordsmanship of the 4th Executor from ages past.