Cervito 7
Cherbito 7. Palenia's Execution Sword. And the impeccably straight sword path traced from the tip of the pure white holy sword. People called that swordsmanship the Execution Sword. Swordsmanship named after the sword itself. It was the punishment that fell upon those who defied the will of the gods—and the blade that granted them peace at the same time.
Licht never forgot a sword technique once he had imprinted it in his eyes. Whether it was some hack mercenary's clumsy swing or the refined art of a noble knight, it made no difference.
The Executioner's Execution Sword was one such technique.
A sword had no fixed form. It simply needed to be adapted to the situation, molded to fit the body.
"Th...!"
Boom!
Licht planted his leading foot right in front of Bryce. At the same moment, a gale of mana surged outward in all directions. He had already dodged Bryce's sword once and closed the distance.
The Ascension Sword arced upward from below, tracing a perfect curve. Bryce twisted his body desperately, bringing down his Execution Sword as if to parry it away.
Holy power swelled massively along the blade.
Claaang!
Golden blond hair fluttered wildly. Silent shock flashed in green eyes.
"The Execution Sword... how...!"
No answer came—only a golden blade in reply. Licht slid his foot forward smoothly. An utterly straight sword path unfurled from the tip.
The Ascension Sword traced Palenia's Execution Sword, and in riposte, the pure white holy sword clashed against it.
Kagagagang!
Dozens of strikes exchanged in a single instant. Bryce staggered back a step. At the same time, faint sword marks etched themselves across his leather armor.
Execution Sword against Execution Sword. Even though it was the same technique, the difference was stark. But how did he even know Palenia's Execution Sword in the first place? And the Orkin imperial secret swordsmanship, Shyrta, as well.
Just who the hell was this guy?
Creeeeak!
In that fleeting moment, a whirlwind of thoughts churned through Bryce's mind. That split-second lapse let Licht slip from his sight.
His counter-thrust sliced emptily through the air.
Where...?
Splat!
The moment he sensed the presence, searing pain bloomed near his waist. He whipped his body around swiftly, slashing horizontally with Execution Sword intent on bisecting his foe.
Clang!
A clear metallic ring echoed out, followed by a grinding screech as a golden blade rode along his own. Pure white mana rose sharply along the sword.
The Ascension Sword soon blurred. It was a far cry from the rigid straightness of the Execution Sword moments before.
'Four Phantom Sword...!'
Girga Kingdom's erratic sword art. Against a top-tier Expert or higher, it would fall apart after one dismantling—but slotted between other techniques, it was another story entirely.
A blade slipping in off-beat was hard for even the most refined swordsman to counter. Bryce was living proof right now.
He parried the thrust, then yielded another step to the Ascension Sword plummeting from above. The youth's swift blade outpaced the holy power knitting his reddening wounds shut.
Another horizontal strike incoming. White mana overlaid the golden blade, shining even brighter. Bryce abandoned the parry and kicked off the ground backward fiercely.
Boom!
His body launched into the air. Blood droplets rained down. Dust billowed up.
And through it all, blades of wind sliced in.
Whoooosh!
Not one or two—easily over ten. Chantless high-circle wind magic. Blocking them all with sword alone was impossible.
Bryce thrust out his left hand. A hemispherical barrier of brilliant yellow energy unfurled, halting the wind blades.
Tingtingtingting!
A drumming sound rang out—and at the same instant, a bolt of lightning crashed down from above.
Krarararung!
His body convulsed as brilliant blue lightning speared from the sky. Dozens of ice spikes thrust up from below.
Whoooosh!
Boom!
Bryce gritted his teeth and swung down his Execution Sword. The rising blue spikes shattered against the arena floor.
The moment he landed, he looked ahead to see Licht charging at terrifying speed. Mana streamed from the blade like unraveling thread.
Too late when he realized the anomaly.
'Mana Blade.'
Hummmm!
Five rings spun without hindrance. Dazzling white light erupted from his grip.
As it slashed vertically, the mana shed the Ascension Sword's form, transforming into a blade of pure white sword energy.
Kwaaaaa—!
A ferocious explosion roared as it gouged the arena floor. Bryce had already taken Shyrta's fourth form, Penetro, head-on once before. No way he could block this squarely.
Holy power wasn't infinite, any more than mana was. The slowing rate of his wound-healing was proof.
If it landed clean, this strike would end it. Dodging was out—the sword energy's speed was monstrous.
Bryce poured every last drop of remaining holy power into his pure white blade and swung reflexively.
Kwaaaaaang!
Sword energy and formless holy power met midway and detonated. A ferocious gust followed a beat later, strong enough to whip hair wildly.
Licht shielded his eyes with an arm and spread his mana wide. Then he kicked off the ground.
White mana surged anew along the Ascension Sword.
Fwoosh!
As the dust cleared, a blood-soaked golden-haired man stood barely keeping his balance.
Licht severed his right arm in one stroke.
Schwick!
"Gaaahhh!"
A raw scream escaped as the Execution Sword flew through the air with the severed limb.
Licht gripped the Ascension Sword tight and thrust into Bryce's chest.
Crunch!
"Gurk!"
Ribs shattered, and blood bubbled up Bryce's throat.
Thud!
Licht shoved with his full weight, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Gazing down at Bryce clutching the hilt, Licht spoke.
"Any last words?"
"Kgh... kuhk..."
A sound that could have been pain or laughter. Bryce's lips curled up.
"Now I... remember. That tone... You're from Arhen Kingdom, aren't you? They said the Barbalte Duke's illegitimate son had black hair and eyes... heh heh! So that's it. The kingdom's top martial house. No wonder you have that kind of skill..."
Cough, cough!
His ribs were pulverized, lungs pierced. His voice grew faint. Yet even as blood poured from his mouth, Bryce kept talking.
"You wouldn't know how high the sky reaches... I didn't either. As a foolhardy kid, I thought I'd been chosen by the gods. Blessed by Goddess Isteria... But no. The world is vast, and geniuses are far too many. I was just one of the countless pack. And you..."
Are the same.
Having forsaken his life, Bryce now mocked Licht utterly. His slack eyes murmured.
"Better give up on living. Palenia's Executioners will hunt you down."
"Delirious. Spouting nonsense."
"Think it's a lie? The moment you killed me, you learned too much. Deny it now, but it's too late. That 7th Circle old monster might not know... but you? No. That power at your age... If the Holy Kingdom can't claim you, they'll kill you. Crush you before you grow further. You, and everyone you hold dear."
Splat!
"Cough!"
Licht yanked the Ascension Sword from Bryce's chest. Pent-up blood sprayed fiercely.
Drip. Drip.
Bryce rasped heavily.
"Kgh... urk, urk... You underestimate Palenia's Pope too much. That man would kill his own daughter for his goals."
"......"
"Will you bow and crawl under the Holy Kingdom? Or do you think El Sion's lord... would go to war with them for one boy like you? Sacrifice his citizens to shelter a single person."
"Enough."
"You don't seriously think you can take on all twelve Executioners alone, do you? If you do, that's arrogance beyond measure. That folly will lead you to death one day..."
Schwick!
The Ascension Sword arced in a half-moon, and Bryce's severed head rolled across the floor. Headless, he spoke no more.
Licht stared at the scene for a moment, then scanned the surroundings. The arena, packed with tens of thousands, was eerily silent. Corpses littered the stands here and there—Schult's handiwork, as promised.
And every one of them stared at the boy who had slain a lone Executioner.
'Twelve Executioners.'
Could he win? The thought flickered through Licht's mind, drawing an involuntary smirk.
The man who had slain Orkin's Seven Swords alone in his previous life—afraid of Palenia's Executioners now? Ridiculous.
He turned his gaze. In the corner of the arena, Aila and Vito were rising, mouths agape in stunned disbelief.
"Hey... what the hell are you, really?"
"Licht!"
The boy shuffled over unsteadily; the girl ran up. As Licht regarded them—
Crackle!
"......!"
Suddenly, space tore open in midair, and a balding old mage stepped through. Not alone—behind him came a red-haired girl and several Cherbito officials.
"Aw, tsk! It's already over. Should've come sooner."
Schult, emerging first, clicked his tongue at Bryce's severed head.
Licht said, "These all of them?"
"Yeah. Lucky no more casualties. But that guy—you took him down solo?"
Schult eyed Bryce's corpse, then the Execution Sword lying nearby.
"Heh heh. I half-doubted it, but... killing a former Executioner alone, even a low-rank one. I keep saying it—you're no ordinary man. Some apostle of the gods?"
"......"
"Wh... what? What's going on?"
Elia, late to catch up, blurted in confusion.
Ignoring her, Licht approached the Execution Sword.
'Never thought this would end up in my hands.'
The pure white holy sword hadn't dimmed despite its master's death. Licht shook off the severed right arm and gripped the hilt.
A familiar yet alien sensation. He fed it a trickle of mana; white light flickered briefly, then dispersed.
"......"
Because it's not holy power? This wasn't right.
"Let me warn you ahead of time."
As Licht frowned, Schult stroked his beard.
"Palenia's Execution Sword is blessed by Goddess Isteria. Mana won't do a thing."
"Get to the point."
"Things being what they are, why not hand over the sword willingly? If we don't want war, the Holy Kingdom will apologize first and show good faith—the sword's role in deciding that scale won't be small."
"Is that so?"
"With the match halted, the second semifinal will be rescheduled. Everyone here saw your feats—you can expect a big reward. So until the Count arrives..."
Shing!
In an instant, the Execution Sword's scabbard detached from Bryce's corpse. Licht sheathed it lightly at his waist.
"...Did you hear a word I just said?"
A sword he couldn't even use. Handing it over meekly could net a hefty reward. That was exactly Schult's angle.
'No.'
But Licht decided to keep the Execution Sword.
He didn't know this Count yet. No need to yield a hard-won prize so easily. The urgent one was the Count, not him.
From the moment he killed Bryce, ownership was Licht's—no taking it by invoking "greater good."
'At least get a firm answer.'
Whether El Sion's lord was truly ready to defy the Holy Kingdom. Licht alone was one thing, but he needed guarantees for Sebrik and Lena's safety.
Worst case, he'd throw in with the Holy Kingdom. He wasn't ready to face twelve Executioners solo yet— he needed at least some time.
'Don't push too hard.'
Better to play it balanced. Seem compliant without fully yielding.
Licht had no intention of seriously offending the Count.
"It depends on the Count."
He slid the Execution Sword slowly into its scabbard.
"How he responds. The finals haven't even started yet."
"......"
"My family's waiting. I'll be going. Please pass that along."
Click!
Sheathing it with perfect posture, the white blade vanished into the scabbard. His business done, Licht turned and left the arena.
"What the...?"
Schult muttered in disbelief.
Count Fredriksen arrived with his knights shortly after.
***
The ambush at Cherbito was settled by the belated Count. Thanks to swift action from Schult and Licht, there were no further casualties. That allowed quick scheduling of the remaining semifinal and finals.
Contrary to Licht's expectation of a visitor, no one came to the mansion for a while. The initial dead mages' families had received hefty compensation from the Count.
As expected, Licht advanced in the second semifinal. Elia, senior disciple of the Brave School, wielded formidable flame magic—but not enough to withstand Licht's onslaught.
'Planning to call me after the Cherbito finals end.'
Even with the Execution Sword in his possession, no summons. Out of consideration, perhaps, or due to diplomatic issues with Palenia Holy Kingdom.
And on finals day.
Waaaaaah—!
The vast circular arena echoed with cheers. The prior incident hadn't thinned the crowds at all. If anything, merchants hawking food from big packs grumbled at the sudden strict inspections.
Mages dotted the stands unlike before, but it did nothing to dampen the crowd's fervor.
"Count Fredriksen!"
"He finally shows. After last time..."
"Heard he offered to take that boy as a vassal."
"For real?"
"At that age, with that skill... who wouldn't covet him."
[Round 142 of Cherbito Finals. Final match. Aila Pavria, Licht Sientia. Both fighters, please enter the arena.]
The announcer's voice boomed from the amplification magic.
Soon, two mages emerged from opposite sides. Cheers erupted simultaneously.
"Licht Sientia!"
"That intruder he killed before—was he really a former Holy Kingdom Executioner? At that age..."
"All in on him! If he loses today, we both die!"
"Poor Pavria miss. Wrong opponent."
A jumble of voices. For the first time, Licht exiting the arena saw El Sion's lord gazing down from amid the massive crowd.
'Count Fredriksen.'
Short-cropped ash-gray hair. Effete yet steely resolve. Natural authority radiated from his seated form.
'Whatever he's thinking.'
He'd find out after the match. And what Licht wanted was simple: access to the Sage's Tower top floor.
And information on time reversal.
"I won't lose easily."
Standing side by side, Aila stared at Licht and spoke first.
"Yeah."
"...Remember our promise from before?"
[Five seconds to match start.]
[5, 4...]
The announcer's voice rang out. The noisy arena began to quiet gradually.
"Promise?"
"Winner gets a wish granted."
Aila pressed on with shameless impudence.
[3, 2...]
Licht let out a hollow chuckle.
"You broke it first."
"We'll do it here."
[1...!]
That was the end.
Beeeep—!
The start signal blared loudly. Aila raised her wand instantly, unleashing chantless magic.
Fwoosh! Cracklecrackle! Whiiiish! Boom! Boom! Boom!
"......"
The barrage from the opening left the crowd in stunned silence.
Her relentless elemental assault packed tremendous power.
Hiss...
"That..."
"It's over?"
"No way... even so."
Black smoke billowed everywhere. Amid the cracked arena floor, frost and embers scattered.
As the bizarre turn sank in, some spectators bellowed.
Then—
Fwoosh!
The smoke cleared in an instant. A mere gesture had summoned wind.
Step.
Licht advanced slowly. The boy emerging unscathed looked no different than before.
"That's it! You gonna lose without even starting?"
"Licht Sientia! Show 'em!"
"Waaaaaah!"
Cheers exploded toward Licht again. The mana gauntlet on his wrist was intact too—meaning he'd blocked every elemental attack.
Aila blurted in disbelief.
"Hey, that's cheating..."
"Cheating?"
Crack!
He raised his hand, and a sword rose from the floor.
"Where's that rule?"
Crunch.
Gripping the ice-formed hilt, Licht kicked off the ground.