Ch.160160. Two Protagonists (1)

The Holy Sword seemed to be saying something. But nothing registered in my head. The streets were red. The smell rose from the blood covering buildings and roads. Human blood had a pitiful scent. A smell that had gone too far to do anything about. The skin visible between armor plates was pale. An organic death like bloodless, whitened eyeballs. Blood continuously trickled from open wounds.

“…I.”

Failed to save them. There were too many corpses; I couldn’t even close the eyes of those who died with them open. There were gazes directed at me. Eyes of those who saw me as hope. Now, fish-like eyes that seemed unable to think anything stared at me.

“Hero.”

A soldier called out to me. His waist was severed, leaving only his upper body dangling. I trudged over and lifted the soldier. His speech wasn’t slurred. His expression showed no sign of pain. Only his eyes, which had been waiting bleakly for the approaching darkness, changed to an expression of seeing some light.

“Thank goodness. You arrived before it was too late.”

The soldier spoke each word clearly. No, I wanted to tell him I was far too late. The weight of that fading light was too heavy for me to speak carelessly. That weight wasn’t just one, but tens, hundreds. It piled up on my shoulders and head. I bowed my head. The soldier’s lips moved.

“Please stop that bastard.”

“I will.”

Hearing my voice, the light disappeared from the soldier’s eyes. The blood-covered hand holding mine stiffened coldly. I carefully laid down the soldier’s body and stood up. There were too many corpses piled up that needed hands to hold, to mourn.

“I’m sorry.”

There was no time to stop and mourn them. I moved forward. I could hear the splashing sound of blood pooling. I accelerated further. Killing intent and energy waves that seemed to touch my skin directly. Noise and presence like dozens of knights fighting at once. I gripped the Holy Sword. Neuil seemed to emit a quiet aura, as if asking to be drawn too. Not yet. I stroked the hilt, soothing Neuil.

“Let’s go.”

I accelerated again. Leaving behind blood, death, and the living, I went. And at the end, I saw Aryen and George. George was being cut. Aryen was swinging his sword while dodging all of George’s attacks. A leg had been severed. The wounds didn’t overlap. The next attack aimed at the fallen George was targeting his neck.

“[Cruel bastard….]”

The Holy Sword muttered indignantly. Without hesitation, I launched myself forward. I swung the Holy Sword, blocking Aryen’s sword. Aryen’s strength pressed down on the Holy Sword. It was an incredible force that seemed impossible for that guy. I had to hold. I endured, drawing even on the crown’s power.

“…”

I met George’s eyes. He was losing consciousness. The blood loss looked dangerous. Knights rushed in, grabbed George, and dragged him out. Aryen was still trying to press down on my sword.

“Finally, you’ve appeared.”

Our eyes met. His black eyes were glistening with a strange light. The possibility of dialogue that once seemed to exist deep within was severed. It remained motionless, blocked by a wall, not bars. In the sensation of everything burning white, Aryen’s voice reached me again.

“It’s been a while, Hero.”

I’ll kill that bastard.

The magical power I instantly summoned pushed back Aryen’s strength. His sword was deflected upward. His body opened up. In that gap, I thrust my foot. A heavy sensation reached my toes. The feeling of flesh tearing and bones crushing. I launched myself after Aryen, who was flying away like a dot.

“Haha. You’ve completely become a monster, Hero.”

Aryen looked at me and laughed in mid-air. Blood trickling down his mouth. Arms and legs shaking off the impact with exhaustion. His grip on the sword was loose but seemed like he would never let go.

“That was quite a painful blow. It’s been quite a while since I took a hit like that.”

What needs to be cut off is the leg, or waist. At a speed that prevents any reaction—

CLANG-!!!

Sword clashed with sword. Aryen blocked my attack with one foot supporting the sword tip and both hands gripping the hilt. The aura attached to his sword like a part of it dispersed the impact of the sword strike. Aryen’s expression contorted as he took the blow. He didn’t push back. My air time was much more advantageous.

“At least you fight more intelligently than George.”

Ankle. My sword only left a stab wound on his calf, failing to slice through. Not enough. I needed to entangle him. I tangled our blades so Aryen couldn’t withdraw his sword. Knee. I pressed down. I descended to the ground, smashing Aryen’s back into the road. The road shattered, fragments rising up.

“Your rampaging, irrational appearance is quite a sight to see.”

Amid the sound of grinding blades, Aryen’s mockery reached me. What flew at me was Aryen’s leg. The injured one. I didn’t dodge. I couldn’t allow distance between us.

Thud.

I blocked Aryen’s right foot with my left hand. Annoyance settled in Aryen’s eyes. His other foot rested below my neck. Somehow, Aryen had already withdrawn his sword and was leaning it against the ground.

“Get off me.”

Like jumping off a wall, his kick propelled not me but Aryen backward. In that instant, Aryen escaped the close distance and landed. I measured the distance with my eyes. Aryen was rolling his shoulders. Quietly, those eyes burning with manic rage and killing intent stared at me. The killing intent didn’t bother me. I almost welcomed that hostility.

“Did you step up to protect the world?”

Aryen opened his mouth. Eyes, gestures, and voice suggesting he knew something.

“Or are you just acting like a slave to that sword?”

Aryen’s gaze turned to the Holy Sword. A movement full of certainty.

“Hand over the sword. If you want to protect the world.”

“I’ve changed my mind, Aryen.”

I cut off his words. There was no need to heed what he was saying now. I drew on my magical power. Whether it was heart pain or anything else, I would put it all aside for now.

“I’ll capture you and make you tell me everything you’ve seen, everything you know.”

That guy is the protagonist. Not the Aryen of this world, but the Aryen of the “original work.” A monster who defeated even Comet, not much different in power from me now. How he recalled those memories. What happened next, why he committed these acts.

I need to find out, even if it means bloodying my hands.

“That’s more like it.”

I brought down my sword. I couldn’t just overwhelm him with brute force. Since it could destroy the entire royal capital, I had to fight differently. Aryen was deliberately moving toward the city center. He was pressuring me by cleverly changing positions so I couldn’t exert my full power.

“What’s wrong? Can’t swing your sword properly?”

That was the protagonist. Someone who finds ways to win using all available means and employs them no matter how dirty, as long as they lead to victory. A body already covered in filth; one or two more stains wouldn’t even show.

“Just so you know, I’ll swing without any hesitation.”

Mercenary. Those who leave only results and purpose. Aryen was seriously trying to capture me now. He wouldn’t bat an eye no matter how many people in the royal capital died in the process. Was it my misconception that he had changed a little? Were the memories of the original work that powerful?

“It must be quite difficult to fight while blocking that, right?”

Suddenly, George’s expression flashed in my mind again. I urgently followed Aryen’s movements. Aryen completely released his aura and raised his sword. The sword strike wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed at civilian houses in the royal capital. Aryen brought down his sword without any sign of stopping.

BOOM-!!

The spiraling aura of the Holy Sword met Aryen’s aura in mid-air and exploded. The recoil washed over me like a wave, and Aryen looked at me with a smirk.

“A technique where attacks hit no matter where I swing my sword—it’s like receiving a gift.”

“Filthy bastard.”

“What’s clean or dirty in war? There are only winners and losers.”

Stage 3. To completely subdue Aryen, I couldn’t spare my strength. I recalled the pulsation. Quickening my heartbeat, concentrating the circulating magical power.

“…?”

Something was wrong. The magical power wasn’t circulating smoothly. I tried to concentrate more in bewilderment, but the mana seemed blocked, unable to form in my heart. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t a physical abnormality either. Something, someone was preventing the magical power from flowing smoothly.

“[Ilroy.]”

Only then did I hear the Holy Sword’s calm voice.

“[Any more is dangerous. I truly cannot guarantee your safety at this point. Your body will collapse. If your body breaks down this time, it might be irreversible.]”

“I can’t allow more victims.”

“[Don’t you understand that you collapsing during battle is the worst possible scenario, Ilroy?]”

The Holy Sword’s power was stubborn and strong. I couldn’t lose here either. Even now, Aryen was swinging his sword at random places to distract me. If I missed even once, who knows how many would be sacrificed.

“[What are you doing?]”

“Persuasion.”

Our swords clashed, and Aryen and I were both thrown back. I cleverly showed an opening and faltered. It wasn’t a trap. It wasn’t an act. This was a genuine opening created to invite him to stab my neck.

“[Ilroy!]”

“If I can’t persuade with words, I have no choice but to force it.”

As expected, Aryen didn’t miss the opening. His sword approached. I literally did nothing and let go with both hands. Aryen thrust his sword cautiously, suspecting a trap, but soon confirmed I couldn’t respond at all and slightly raised one corner of his mouth.

Please. Trust me.

“[Just because you’re being stubborn doesn’t mean I’ll give in to—]”

Whoosh.

Aryen’s aura tore through the air with a ripping sound—

CLANG-!!!

With a thunderous noise, Aryen was thrown back again. I exhaled, checking the wings that had sprouted on my back. The consumed mana leaked out as white smoke. Aryen looked at me, seemingly confused by the counterattack that came without any warning, and I pointed the Holy Sword at him.

“Slave to the sword, you say.”

What nonsense.