Farewell 5
It was an irrational judgment. He'd known that even before coming here.
The shattered mana stone meant the two of them had been cornered beyond any chance of escape. If it wasn't mere bandits, there was only one possible culprit.
The Executors of Palenia—the Pope's swords, now reduced to just eleven blades.
He'd sensed it vaguely on the way here. They might already be dead. If he'd rushed immediately after parting ways, he might have saved them. But more than half a day had passed. Even chasing after them now offered almost no hope of finding them alive. And he didn't even know how many Executors there were.
One, and he could kill them. Two, and he could flee. But three?
He'd have to stake his life on it—and even then, without certainty of victory.
The moment the mana stone shattered, he should have ignored it and headed straight for the Holy Kingdom. But Licht was here now. He'd come of his own two feet, by his own will.
Why did I do that?
He didn't know. He asked himself. Why had he come here willingly?
It would have been best not to hire them from the start, but that was in the past. If he'd truly wanted to save them, he should have escorted them himself. But he hadn't.
He'd trusted Jack and Ranin's assurances that they'd be fine. He had his own path to hurry along. And so, under the pretense of looking out for them, he'd handed over that pathetic mana stone shard. "Use it if things get dire," he'd said.
Even knowing full well it wouldn't help them in true danger.
I did it...
To ease his guilt. So that if they died, he could tell himself he'd done something and it couldn't be helped—a defense mechanism.
Or had he unconsciously used them as shields? Pawns to buy him even a little time?
Had he realized that too late, grown disgusted with himself, and come here to atone? To seek redemption before their corpses?
I don't know.
He didn't know. He couldn't name the emotion churning inside him.
It was utterly different from how he'd felt hearing of Sebrik and Lena's deaths. Disgust at himself? Rage at the Executors before him?
Or something else?
Boom!
He kicked off the ground. Mana surged beneath his feet. A storm coiled upward. His five circles had been primed long ago.
Three against one. Not a simple three-on-one. All three were on par with Kars—or stronger.
A battle where lives were the wager. The slightest lapse in judgment or reaction, and his head would roll.
Insanity. And yet his feet didn't stop.
When had it ever been different? It was always like this. He only gained enlightenment with death staring him down.
A lantern called talent. The will to press forward.
First.
He seized the initiative.
Whoosh!
Pure white mana blazed like fire atop the golden blade of the Ascension Sword. A blade of pristine white sliced through the sunset glow.
Time slowed. Sounds faded. His vision narrowed. The onslaught rushed in.
Clang—!
The thrust of the Ascension Sword was blocked by a blade of pure white—a holy sword. It was the Executor who'd been at his back: the 4th Seat.
The recoil shoved him backward. Even in slowed time, he saw it clearly. The man's face twisted. Faster than expected, no doubt.
The other two Executors charged from either side.
Off-beat.
The left one's Execution Sword swung. Licht raised the Ascension Sword to parry.
Kakang! Sparks flew. He flowed with it, lunging right.
The right Executor was closing in. The left one, realizing too late, slashed at Licht's back.
It missed. The Execution Sword's blade, laced with brilliant yellow holy power, cleaved only his afterimage.
Several exchanges in a blink. As he kicked off toward the right, he spun his circles. The five rings, already whirling furiously, roared to life at his command.
Not mere overload.
Six.
He staked his life. No room to test the waters. The longer it dragged, the worse for him. Full power from the start—a swift, decisive clash.
Kill.
The air churned. Mana visualized. It warped, sucked toward a single point: his heart, where the five circles resided.
Building atop the five rings—a sixth.
Step by step toward the right Executor, Licht wove the new mana ring.
Body overload? What did it matter?
He needed power. Power to slaughter all three Executors here and now.
And he had the insight for it. An epiphany to summon a miracle, if only briefly. Aftershocks and backlash be damned. Fail to kill, and he'd die anyway.
What the—?
The right Executor gaped, eyes wide. The 4th Seat—the highest rank here—had been pushed back in a clash of strength, if only for a moment. Shocking enough, but then he'd effortlessly deflected Gust's blade and charged him. The mana waves erupting with each step were unnatural.
No.
More than that. The quivering air, mana drawn to the boy's heart. What was that?
Unease. Crippling unease. Death. Instinct screamed warnings.
And then—
Kaboom!
Light exploded. Between the left and right Executors, Licht shot like a beam.
The erupting aura—a brilliance devouring even the sunset—blinded them.
6th Circle. Six rings. And his first kill at that realm was...
"Swordmaster..."
"Dominic Hertz!"
The right Executor muttered. Gust, trailing belatedly after losing Licht, shouted.
Shyrta, 3rd Form.
Aquila.
Shuuu!
The sword tip trembled. The blade drew dozens of afterimages. Each laced with hyper-compressed mana. Afterimages solidified into dozens of slashes raining down.
Kwarung!
Blades hammered like a storm. As dust cleared amid the roar, mangled flesh splattered across a pool of blood. Far off, the Execution Sword dimmed slowly.
Twin beams of pure white sword aura shot forth.
Kwaaa—!
The ground cratered deeply. Brilliant yellow holy power surged along the straight white aura beam.
Boom!
Yellow holy power blooming from the Execution Sword clashed with the sword aura's mana, scattering.
"......"
Thick silence blanketed the forest.
Licht stood before the mangled Executor corpse, back turned, sword lowered. His momentum showed no sign of fading. The surrounding landscape warped even now, hyper-dense mana refracting the sunset.
[A Swordmaster?]
[Not aura.]
Voices in their heads. Heard only by Gust and Yon, not Licht.
[Mana. Refined through circles, used as aura substitute.]
[Which means...]
[A mage. Mana output suggests 6th Circle—or higher.]
[Deliberately overloading circles...?]
[He hid his hand. Swordsmanship too.]
[Shyrta.]
[Barbalte Duke's family from Arhen Kingdom. Ties to Orkin Empire?]
Licht turned slowly. The light atop the golden blade didn't dim—it intensified.
The lead man assumed stance.
[Gust Forden.]
[Yes.]
[Counter. That state won't last. I'll take him head-on—match me.]
[As commanded.]
[This is His Holiness the Pope's will, and the will of the goddess Isteria of Light.]
Stake your life.
As the man finished and stepped forward—
Thud!
The earth quaked. Mana spread wide. An alien energy eroded space.
The two Executors, cloaked in holy power, shot forward. By then, Licht had already kicked off.
Faster.
Even faster. Enough to behead both.
No margin for error. The forcibly woven sixth ring gnawed at his body everywhere, granting impossible power at the cost of his flesh. A strictly temporary surge. It would weaken over time.
So pour everything into each strike. Mana flooded every corner; time stretched again. Bursting capillaries everywhere. Black eyes tracked the duo without pause.
The lead man incoming, 9th Seat tight behind.
Kaang!
Swords clashed. White mana on the golden blade traded blows in blinks with yellow holy power on the pure white holy sword—straight, then supple. Deflecting, Licht pushed the man back.
The makeshift sixth ring overwhelmed the 4th Seat Executor in this moment.
He battered aside the incoming Execution Sword, diving in. A blind-spot slash as he aimed for the gap—the 9th Seat from behind the man.
Licht deflected it without a glance. The Execution Sword rebounded.
In that brief window, the man recovered and charged.
Monster.
Kagagang!
Supporting the man, Gust inwardly clicked his tongue. Yon, the 4th Seat, took Licht's blade directly while Gust exploited gaps for time. Yet they were losing—in swordplay and raw power.
Made no sense. Intel said he was the discarded second son of Barbalte Duke's house. Bryce's death hadn't shocked him. Nor Kars'. They'd assumed complacency.
But if not... if they'd given full effort and still been crushed...
Signal.
Execution Sword pushed back again. The golden divine sword traced a horrifying arc. Gust stepped back; the man thrust anew.
Their eyes met. A blink. No words needed.
Holy power on the man's Execution Sword surged to another level.
Kwaaang!
Not a clash—a detonation. Licht was repelled for the first time.
Simultaneously, holy power splintered into dozens, hundreds of thorns before his eyes. Each lethal to elite knights.
Gust lunged—as if waiting.
It's over.
Block the frontal thorns? Can't block mine then. Prioritize mine? Frontal assault too fierce. Both? Even if he did, what came next.
Condensing holy power at his sword tip, Gust scanned Licht's body. A small ring on his left middle finger.
Mana shield, huh.
Tingtingting!
Thorns hammered a blue barrier. No other artifacts.
The man swung again.
Clang!
Ascension Sword shoved back momentarily.
Now.
Thud!
Vision shifted. Gust's body shot forward. Licht's rear exposed blocking the man's strike.
One chance—now.
One stroke.
Kill. Holy power poured into the tip. No frills needed. Just hyper-compressed sharpness to cleave all.
Left foot planted inches from Licht's back, Gust raised his right arm high.
Whoosh!
Seething holy power converged. He slashed down—skull-splitting force.
As the Execution Sword reached Licht's crown—
"......!"
Licht spun. Expressionless black eyes met his. Right hand's Ascension Sword needed time to raise. His own blade was faster.
Yet Gust felt death prickle his nape. Blue glow in Licht's left hand.
Light...?
The blue glow stretched into a blade. Transparent as glass—a blue divine sword.
Azure Flower.
Kaang!
Azure Flower obeyed its master's will, repelling Gust's Execution Sword. White mana blazed on the blade, erasing the world around.
Golden and blue twin blades gripped in both hands.
Wooong!
Mana churned at his will. The landscape warped anew. White mana gathered at his heart once more.
"You bastard!"
The man roared, pouring all remaining holy power into his tip. Gust snapped to, charging.
Two Execution Swords lunging for his throat from both sides.
Licht calmly parried the onslaught. With Ascension Sword, with Azure Flower.
Even as unblocked strikes carved long gashes across his body, he didn't stop. Burning pain couldn't halt his steps.
Resignation?
No.
Atonement?
No.
Doesn't matter.
Kill the enemy before him. This state wasn't enough. He needed more—stronger power.
Strong power. Licht knew exactly how to claim it.
Mana sucked inward. Atop the heated six circles, he inscribed another.
The seventh ring. The new 7th Circle whirled fiercely over the sixth.
Invisible waves spread. The two Executors' faces twisted.
7th Circle unique magic.
Eclipse.
Whoosh—
Darkness descended everywhere. A jet-black curtain devoured all light.
Brilliant yellow holy power on the Execution Swords scattered into void.
Pure white blades flashed from nowhere. Twin swords arced semicircles.
Crack!
The curtain shattered.