A World Where Everyone Is Saved

Luke gripped his sword and watched the humans charging toward him. Every last one of them was a beggar lusting after his flesh, and their eyes were locked on him alone. But Luke felt no fear. If anything, he had already settled into his stance, the blade in his hands already hungry for them.

"Crimson Blood Dragon Sword."

In that instant, no fewer than five of them came lunging at him. Luke's teeth clenched tight as his waist whipped around in a great arc.

A tremendous boom tore through the air. The five figures were shredded to pieces, torn apart until nothing of them remained.

The carnage he had just wrought brought the oncoming wave to a halt for a single heartbeat—but Luke did not stop. He surged forward instead and seized one man's head in an instant.

The enemy's skull shattered in Luke's bare grip, and he hurled the remains far into the distance.

"What are you waiting for?"

He crooked a finger. Then another.

"Come at me."

A roar went up, and they came charging in all over again.

In the blood-soaked pandemonium tearing across his field of vision, Mikhail's eyes never left his charge: Luke.

...Not bad.

He was good. Quite good, actually.

The head of a Patina vagrant clenched in Luke's left hand burst apart with a wet crunch, and a scream ripped through the air. Still gripping the ruined skull, Luke flung it forward. Then he stamped down in a driving step and shot ahead.

"Crimson Blood Dragon Sword."

A crimson aura swirled through Luke's eyes. His current rank was 2nd Tier—the stage at which one planted a mana hole in the body through the family's heart technique and more or less finished adapting to the handling of mana. The distinctive red mana of House Serverki's heart method, the Serverki-style Heart Technique, bloomed, and a crimson light whirled in both of his pupils.

Luke's Crimson Blood Dragon Sword shot toward the Patina beggars who had just cut down the corpse he'd thrown. Cutting sounds rang out without end as the bodies of Patina's enemies were shredded to ribbons. But Luke was not finished. He immediately stomped down, slamming the earth with tremendous force.

The Patina vagrants reeled from the shock—and in that instant, Luke did not hesitate. He launched himself forward, weaving through the enemy ranks at will. The sound of flesh being carved filled the air as those gathered here fell one after another. Even so, Luke did not stop. He would cut down every last enemy assembled in this place.

"Hah."

Having wiped out an entire group in the blink of an eye, Luke felt a twinge of unease. ...Too easy.

Off to the side, Jack and Mikhail were cutting through enemies with ferocious, almost insane movement. Which meant the real powerhouses hadn't gone after Jack and Mikhail either. Something was off. There was no way this was all they'd send to capture a young master of a ducal house.

That was when it came.

"Kyahahahahaha! The little dragon's putting on quite the show!"

Luke reacted instantly. He brought his sword up to block the slash aimed at his head. It was useless. His blade shattered on the spot.

Damn it!

Luke twisted his body in a hurry, slipping past the slash. Fortunately, the strike only carved empty air—but the force packed into it was anything but ordinary. Blood ran down his right cheek where a fragment of the slash had caught him, but this was no time to worry about that. Strong. The opponent in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠front of him was strong.

5th Tier at minimum. No question.

The mana clinging to that man's sword was no mere clump of qi. It was Sword Gang—unmistakably the Sword Gang used by those who had stepped into the 5th Tier.

I never saw a guy like this in-game. Probably someone who dies before the starting point.

Even so, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Luke did not hesitate. He snapped his fingers at once and spoke.

With those words, the shattered fragments of the sword slowly gathered, drawing together until they coalesced once more into the shape of a blade. The moment the stranger saw it, a gleam of interest lit his eyes.

"Witch's Magic! So a young master of House Serverki has learned Witch's Magic. How fascinating."

"I'm not particularly grateful that you find it interesting."

"Kyahahaha! Fair enough. That aside—"

Greed flickered in both of his eyes.

"I hear witches taste pretty good if you roast 'em. Curious whether that's true!"

"Tsk."

Luke clicked his tongue. Clearly this one wouldn't die easily.

"Young Master? Shall I assist you?"

That was when Mikhail, displaying elegant swordsmanship off to one side, called out to Luke. Luke shook his head at once.

"I'm fine! I'll handle this myself!"

"You're something else, Young Master. How is a 2nd Tier like you supposed to handle a 5th Tier?"

"Simple."

Luke spoke quietly, sword still in hand.

"I just step straight into the 3rd Tier."

"Oh, come on. Young Master. Anyone can see that's not happening."

Mikhail kept talking even as he parried the small fry's swords—or rather, he was answering Luke's every remark one by one. Luke let out a dry chuckle at the sheer leisure in that display, and in that interval the unidentified man spoke.

"My name is Lukai! Today I'll kill you and tear the meat from your bones!"

"Go ahead."

Both men's blades began to move.

As I thought. The information I got from His Grace was right.

House Serverki, one of the Empire's Three Great Ducal Families. Mikhail, who headed the escort division there, had heard something from the family head, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bellemian Serverki.

To think he knows Witch's Magic, which they say you can't easily learn unless fate itself connects you to it. The Young Master's luck isn't half bad.

For the record, Mikhail did not know that the source of Luke's magic was Ellis. That Ellis was a witch was a fact known within House Serverki only to the family head himself. And Mikhail had no intention of digging any deeper. Knowing more would only get him in trouble. There were things one simply didn't need to know.

Even as he kept cutting down Patina's vagrants, Mikhail's gaze remained fixed on Luke.

"...Hah. He's actually doing it? At this rate, he might even surpass the third son."

Before long, admiration and praise were spilling from Mikhail's mouth of their own accord.

Ellis's admonition flickered through Luke's mind. The Inverse Principle—a power of reversal that rejected nature's natural flow and ran against it. With that concept driven firmly into his head, Luke began to unfold Witch's Magic.

The sword shatters the moment it clashes. But I can't exactly not clash swords either. In that case—

In that instant, the form of Luke's sword was locked in place. Now, even if the blade shattered, it would restore itself at once and return to its present form. It was merely a spell that fixed a shape—but taken further, it was magic that could shake the very axis of time. This was the Inverse Principle that ran against every law: Witch's Magic.

"Quite the little parlor trick!"

Lukai's sword, laden with Sword Gang, sent a vertical slash to split Luke in two. In that instant, Luke shifted his feet lightly and slipped past the strike. The moment his body slid to the right, Lukai's flank lay wide open—and the little dragon's fang bit straight into it.

"Kh! You little—!"

Luke's attack, packed with every ounce of his power and backed by monstrous strength, tore a chunk of flesh from Lukai's side. The instant Lukai clapped a hand over his shredded flank—

Now!

Bolstered by the Innate Ability of monstrous strength, Luke's leg power exploded, and he shot forward. Lukai hastily abandoned the wound and, wrapping his blade in Sword Gang, carved through the empty air ahead. A tearing sound ripped through the air, and in the same breath Lukai saw it: golden hair streaming. Luke had already ducked, slipping beneath his blade.

The moment Lukai's eyes met Luke's, Luke's blade drove straight up from below. A shockwave even greater than before roared out, and a massive vertical line was carved into Lukai's body. The wound, powered by Luke's monstrous strength, cut deep. Blood burst forth, and Lukai let out a howl.

"HAAAAAAAAH!"

The blue mana he possessed flared to life, and his blade burned blue along with it. At the same time, he brought his sword crashing down toward where Luke stood. Luke's sword shattered on the spot—then restored itself at once through Witch's Magic. And in the same instant, Lukai's blade was knocked aside. Luke's sword shot toward Lukai like a bolt of light.

What followed was a brutal, grinding melee. Luke's sword shattered and restored itself without pause. It was only because the blade was a famed sword, a cut above the ordinary, that it could hold even for a moment. Even as he barely managed to meet Lukai's sword, Luke was completely immersed in the moment.

I have to reach the 3rd Tier.

His current rank was 2nd Tier. The first step to crossing that rank and entering the 3rd Tier—he had already guessed what that step was.

The difference between 2nd Tier and 3rd Tier is a difference of mental image. From the 3rd Tier onward, you paint your heart upon the foundation of the sword you've mastered. And beyond that, you can paint the world itself.

Mental Image. That was the clue leading to the 3rd Tier. Which meant Luke's purpose now resolved itself simply. What was Luke's mental image? With what could he paint the will behind the sword he held? That was the crux.

Until now, my sword has been swung to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠survive. So does everything about my sword resolve itself under survival alone?

Even as he kept receiving Lukai's blows, the question continued. Did it? Did his sword truly resolve itself as nothing more than that?

"It would resolve itself as that, wouldn't it."

Survival. He had clawed and struggled for the past three years just to stay alive in this wretched world. So it would be no exaggeration to call Luke's sword a blade swung for survival. But Luke knew. That seven years from now, the mass slaughter of House Serverki in Bertora, capital of the Repelheim Empire, was only the beginning. That after that, this world of Sacred Souls would walk a path of gradual annihilation. Then what Luke had to do was—

And beyond that.

Yes. A world where everyone survives. A world where everyone is saved. That was the world Luke would aim for—the world he had imagined.

And with it, a red aura settled upon Luke's sword, which had been shattering again and again, and it began to hold against Lukai's Sword Gang.

"Oho! You've awakened Sword Qi in the middle of all this!"

Lukai noticed the change in Luke and shouted at once. To that, Luke said quietly:

"Phase two. It begins."

From the sword in Luke's grip, the crimson dragon's aura began to run even wilder.