Slum District 4
Seven swords hemmed him in from all sides.
Licht suddenly recalled the moment right before his death. Orkin's Seven Swords. The seven Swordmasters charging to kill him.
They're weak.
Compared to them, this was utterly pathetic.
All seven drawn blades were infused with aura, but aside from one, they flickered as if a mere breeze could snuff them out.
Is this all they've got?
Six Sword Users and one Sword Expert. Pathetic forces, but probably the best the slums could muster. With six Sword Users, it looked like they'd scraped together every last fighter they had.
The rest...
Probably small fry he could kill with a flick of his wrist.
Having sized them up, Licht slowly rose from his seat. The men aiming their swords at him glared warily.
"Not much of a gravesite."
"......"
"Born at the bottom, die in the dirt. Underground, no less. Pity."
He meant it sincerely. He knew exactly how they'd lived and died, from birth to end.
The reply came from the side.
Thud!
One lunged forward, kicking off the floor with blinding speed. Indoors, not out—and at close range. Licht hadn't even drawn his sword yet.
They figured now was their only shot to catch him off guard.
The aura-reinforced body closed the gap in an instant, the blue blade descending to cleave the boy's head in two. A strike that would slice through frail flesh like butter.
Confidence of victory flashed in the attacker's eyes just as the blade reached his crown.
Chaaeng!
A clear metallic ring echoed through the underground chamber.
Spurt!
A beat later, a fountain of blood erupted.
A golden sword trail etched in midair. The spiraling arc grazed the man's throat as it passed.
Above the spurting stump, his head was already gone.
Thud, thud, tumble...
The man's wide-eyed head rolled across the floor.
Thud!
His headless body toppled backward.
Licht slowly rotated the circles around his heart.
Woooong!
Familiar mana waves pulsed as pure white mana intertwined over the golden blade. A brilliant, snowy glow lit up the dim underground.
Simon, staring at Licht with impassive eyes, muttered.
"So... it really is you."
"Come on."
No long talk.
Thud!
He stomped forward. The floor cracked.
A fierce gale whipped through the flying wood splinters. In one step, Licht was already in Simon's face.
Creeeang!
Blades clashed, shoving the man back. Outmatched in raw power.
Even among Sword Experts, the gap between one who could wield an aura blade and one who couldn't was vast.
Shouts rang out from all sides.
"Rush him together!"
"Fall back and you're dead!"
Spurred by their fallen comrade, they charged from five directions.
Sword strikes flew in a encircling arc. Aura-clad attacks that were genuinely threatening.
"......!"
But they missed.
The boy at the center had vanished.
As the five blades tangled, a raging wind enveloped them.
Spurt!
One turned—too late. His head sailed through the air.
"Behind!"
The others whipped around, slashing wildly at their backs. Lost blades swept the spot where the first man fell.
Licht was already gone.
Slash!
A white afterimage flashed. This time, two legs were severed.
One toppled forward, losing balance. The man opposite froze in panic.
Then the Ascension Sword's blade burst from his chest.
Stab!
Blood gushed from his mouth.
"Gurgle..."
Thud!
He crashed down amid the clamor.
Three left. Cleanup didn't take long.
Their eyes had lost all will to fight long ago. Fear-driven swings never grazed Licht's cloak hem. Each sweep of the glowing white Ascension Sword added another rolling head to the floor.
And as the last one fell.
Kaaang!
A blue blade charged fiercely from the front.
Licht parried lightly with the Ascension Sword.
Simon glanced at the six corpses with complicated eyes.
Kagagak!
Sparks flew. Licht pushed the blade back with sheer force.
Lightning-fast strikes followed. Countless afterimages flickered in the air.
Kagagagang!
A white wave crashed over the blue aura. The Ascension Sword's blade lacerated Simon's body.
He deflected a leg-aimed thrust, only for a twisted arc to rush his throat.
Barely blocking Licht's onslaught, Simon's eyes sank deeper. The blue aura on his blade, once vivid, now dimmed. He'd overused it fending off the strikes.
Simon poured his last reserves into the blade.
Whoosh!
For a split second, brilliant blue flames roared over the plain longsword. The final thrust aimed straight for Licht's heart.
A linear stab.
Kaang!
But it twisted aside. Simon's last attack rode the Ascension Sword's edge, slicing empty air above Licht's shoulder.
Licht flicked his blade upward.
The tip rocketed toward the ceiling.
"Ah..."
Simon groaned, as if accepting the end.
Stab!
The golden blade pierced his unguarded chest.
Licht slammed the collapsing body to the floor.
Thud!
The blade punched through his back into the wooden floor.
Simon’s left-hand sword had fallen long ago.
Licht frowned at the man gazing up, blood drooling from his mouth.
A hollow end, hardly worth calling a fight.
He'd known from the first clash. No killing intent in the man's blade.
Licht spat through gritted teeth.
"...You meant to die from the start."
"Didn't want to live as a puppet..."
Licht lifted Simon's shirt. Geometric patterns etched across his body—identical to those on the assassins he'd killed before.
Sizzle!
The six corpses strewn about had melted away, leaving only their clothes.
Licht's face twisted further at the sight.
Simon murmured.
"Alder Duchy..."
"Alder?"
"The kidnapped mages... most are probably there. Close to the Holy Kingdom, biggest in the area."
Alder Duchy sat north of El Sion, wedged between it and Palenia Holy Kingdom.
Licht recalled the banquet guests.
None.
He'd seen nobles from countless nations, but not a single one from Alder.
Simon coughed blood but pressed on.
"Alder Diocese... Archbishop Sernos is involved. He oversees it all."
"Archbishop Sernos, huh."
"Yeah. From what I know, first stop for the abducted mages... Close to the Holy Kingdom too. If Alder's in bed with Palenia, answers are there."
Cough, cough!
"The Executors... might already be tracking. Safe inside El Sion, but..."
Simon met Licht's eyes squarely.
"You won't sit this out."
"......"
"Figured. Diplomatic envoys won't cut it. To fix this, you head out..."
Simon trailed off, breaths ragged. Forcing words now.
Licht waited silently. Finally, Simon spoke again.
"Barbalte brat... if you're doing it, do it right. Archbishop Sernos is tight with Alder Duke's eldest son. Want the mages out? Take both their heads."
"...Anything else?"
"Anything..."
Simon turned to the vanished clothes.
"Next life... maybe something ordinary."
That was it. Light faded from his eyes.
Licht rose, sheathed the Ascension Sword, and stepped back.
Sizzle.
Simon melted away. Soon, only blood-soaked rags remained, like the other six.
Licht scanned the room. Eight men had stood here moments ago. Now, only the boy remained upright.
Blood pooling on the floor, seven sets of clothes. Only Pierre, the first killed, kept his form.
"......"
Licht flicked blood from the blade and sheathed it.
He climbed the stairs, leaving the blood-scented underground.
Remnants—dozens strong—crowded the entrance, gathered who-knows-when.
"One guy?"
"What the hell happened?"
"He's covered in blood—did he..."
Splash, splash.
Footsteps echoed amid the murmurs.
As Licht advanced, the mob parted in panic.
Rain had poured; slum alleys stood ankle-deep in water.
"......"
Curious about the underground but wary, they didn't charge.
Licht wordlessly threaded the crowd.
He looked up. Thicker clouds hid the moonlight completely.
Shhhh—
Harder rain pelted his ears.
Licht walked the slum alleys slowly. Under faint streetlight glow, rain washed blood from his cloak.
***
Inside the grand cathedral. Stained glass sparkled under soft moonlight.
At the altar's front stood a beautifully carved goddess statue. Goddess Isteria's likeness, ringed by countless candles.
A middle-aged man knelt before it, eyes closed in prayer.
When he opened them, a man stood silently behind.
"What of El Sion's delegation?"
"Sent them back for now. With word that the time is ripe, but they seek amicable resolution."
The man knelt deeply on one knee. Pure white armor gleamed red in the candlelight, emblazoned with Palenia Holy Kingdom's Executor emblem. The number 7 nestled amid the motifs.
"Expected as much... but they hoped for too much."
"......"
"Bryce Edmain... never thought he'd go down so easily."
"If you command, I shall retrieve the Execution Sword at once."
"No need."
"But..."
He glanced up, then lowered his eyes. The middle-aged man had turned, gazing down imperiously.
The Execution Sword was a divine relic blessed by Goddess Isteria. The plea was valid, but he couldn't speak.
This man's orders were absolute.
"The thirteenth Execution Sword is a minor matter."
"......"
"The lamb has returned to Isteria's embrace. We must pray for her blessing upon him."
And one more.
The man bowed lower, nearly prostrate.
After a pause, the other added.
"Someone ensured Brother Bryce could join her."
"As I reported before..."
"Licht Barbalte."
"......"
"How many Executors remain in the Order?"
"Seats 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 11, and 12 are vacant. Of them, only I can move immediately."
Executors rarely lingered long in the Holy Kingdom. Secret missions kept them wandering the continent.
The others had just returned from tasks. Only the seventh—that was him—could act now.
"You have permission to review the reports."
The voice came as he kept his head bowed.
"Prioritize capture alive."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
"However, if you deem it an emergency at your discretion."
Palenia's Pope, Franz Evgenia, issued the command.
"Execute him on the spot."