episode_0093

The untimely darkness that had stained the sky black vanished without warning, just as it had arrived.

The rising sun and the break of day should have brought a hopeful feeling, but what remained after the dark moon that had covered the sky disappeared was not hope—it was despair.

Lilith, standing beside Ian, let out a shrill scream as she tugged at his sleeve.

“Ian, Marin’s gone!”

“Don’t panic. She’s not the type to be taken down that easily. Right now, we’re the ones who should be worried.”

With Marin—the strongest among them—now missing, there was no one left to stand against Arina.

“Can’t you do something with that demon sword of yours? Like that thing you showed us last time…?”

“No. That’s a last resort. Arina hasn’t seen it yet, so it might catch her off guard, but if it doesn’t work in one shot, we’d just be revealing our hand for nothing.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“We buy time. Lilith, contact the others waiting with the crystal spheres. Daniel, make sure the Emperor and the Pope don’t escape.”

While giving orders to the other two, Ian drew one of the two swords at his waist—the sword of his family. The very blade his father, Jeremy Felix, had wielded to earn glory in war.

The sword his father had drawn to protect their homeland, he now raised to bring that very nation to ruin.

Millen was holding the King and Prince captive. Among the remaining combatants, he was the only one left.

“Are you really sure about this? You’re strong, Brother, but Sister is…”

Weaker than the woman he loves. The fact that he knew it all too well made Daniel’s trailing-off words sting even more.

“I have to. I need to prove I’m not just all talk.”

“I think Sister already knows that well enough, but… fine. Show her anyway. Grab her by the shoulders when she’s exhausted and say, You’re my woman—”

“Enough nonsense. Just do your job.”

No advice was needed. He had already prepared the most unromantic—yet irresistible—proposal in the world.

One step, two steps. Slowly. He approached Arina, who was gathering mana.

Her eyes closed as she absorbed the ambient mana, she finally spoke when he was within ten paces.

“I really give up with you, Ian. I had a vague feeling you might pull something like this. Honestly, I thought it was impossible. But you actually went and did it. If this fails, we all die, you stubborn bastard.”

“I’d like to throw those words right back at you. How many times did I tell you—no, beg you—not to shoulder everything alone and leave in the end? If you need help, just ask.”

“This time was different. I couldn’t drag you all into becoming criminals.”

“I knew you’d say that. So I decided to do things my way.”

“Fine. It’s already too late, so I won’t argue anymore… Just don’t die. At least not by my hand.”

A warning—no, more like a plea.

Absolutely.

He tightened his grip on the sword. Ian had no intention of letting Arina experience the pain of taking his life.

In an instant, Arina vanished from his sight. He quickly reinforced his eyes with magic to track her.

Behind him. Razor-sharp blades of frost shot toward him.

Back when they first met, just this had been enough to push him to his limits. Barely over a year ago. Thinking about it, he’d been more confident in his skills back then—before he became a top-tier adventurer.

His confidence had been shattered by his encounter with a mage of a completely different caliber.

It had been like a bear fighting an ant. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t land a single wound.

Back then, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined they’d grow this close. He’d sworn never to fight that monster again—yet here he was, standing before her once more. And this time, it was to claim her.

By the time he blocked all the frost, Arina had already closed the distance, slipping into his guard. The exact opposite of how she fought Marin.

Though it was easier to handle than long-range magic, Ian gritted his teeth in frustration. The slave crest made it impossible for Arina to hold back. Which meant she had judged that someone like him could be handled in close combat alone.

Whoosh! Clang!

A magic-wreathed sword and fist collided. Normally, even if reinforced with magic, a blade would at least leave a scratch—but it was Ian who was sent flying. The sword trembled dangerously in his grip as he was dragged across the dirt, pushed back to the opposite side.

“Impressive. You can actually take my attacks now. To grow this much in just a year…”

For a compliment, it didn’t feel the least bit gratifying.

The sheer strength from a body that had never done a day of muscle training was unbelievable. If magic could enhance the body to that degree, physical training really was pointless.

It was a moment that made him reflect on his past struggles, but Ian didn’t let himself dwell. Instead, he charged back in.

Stomach, chest, head—he aimed for areas where mana concentration was relatively weaker. Even if he missed, seizing the initiative was key.

Clang!

Her fist might as well have been solid steel, repelling his sword, but it didn’t matter. He kept swinging relentlessly, denying her any opening to counterattack.

“Trying to stall until Marin gets back? Not a bad call, but—”

Dodging his slashes, Arina suddenly leaped back, rolling into a crouch.

Is she trying to create distance?

Ian lunged, swinging his sword to prevent her from retreating further.

But he soon realized his mistake—just a little too late.

Focusing mana into her eyes and one hand, Arina snatched his blade mid-swing and held it fast.

Crack. Shiiing!

The blade shattered in half, and in the brief moment Ian froze, Arina’s hand shot toward him.

Her slender, pale fingers clamped onto his face before slamming him into the ground.

“Ghk—!”

The violent impact forced blood from his mouth. Arina’s voice, urging him to get up, was eerily calm.

“You know you don’t have the luxury of lying around, right? Stay down, and you will die.”

A fist wreathed in dangerously condensed mana descended.

No choice now!

Ian discarded the broken sword and reached for the new one—but he was a fraction too slow.

“[Moonlight’s Radiance]”

A rapidly deployed mana shield enveloped Arina just before moonlight swallowed the spot where she stood.

—Ziiiiing!

The high-speed intercept magic, one of Arina’s own favorites, hadn’t been cast by her this time.

Retracting her shield, Arina turned toward the source. There was only one other person who could have used that spell at this moment.

“Master!”

“Sorry I’m late. Saw someone falling from the sky, so I had to pick them up.”

Marin, carried on Elin’s back, immediately sprang up as if nothing had happened.

“Did you miss me? Ow! Ugh…”

Not entirely unharmed, she crouched down, tears welling in her eyes.

Still.

“With this, we’ve got our minimum fighting force back.”

Ian drew his new sword and moved to Elin’s side.

“Honestly, how long can you hold her off with magic?”

“Three minutes? And that’s if you two keep her distracted.”

“You’re the Tower Lord. Can’t you push yourself a little harder?”

“Don’t ask for the impossible. She surpassed me long ago. Could you last three minutes against a Sword Master?”

Probably not. In a direct clash, the difference in skill only became more apparent.

“Then we’ll just have to end it in three minutes!”

Marin clenched her fist and declared it simply. As much as he wanted to retort, there really was no other way.

“You’ve been with her a while. Found any weaknesses?”

“Hmm. Other than the fact that she’s weaker than an average person when she can’t use magic…”

Conversely, he hadn’t found any reliable way to counter Arina when she could use magic. He’d watched her fight countless times, but most battles ended with her obliterating the enemy in a single strike.

Yet the solution came from an unexpected direction.

“Weakness? Weakness, weakness… Oh! There is one!”

Marin perked up, waving her hand excitedly.

Even the seemingly flawless Arina had a weakness. One only she knew—discovered through 37 sparring matches.

“…You’re serious?”

Under their skeptical gazes, Marin bristled and shouted.

“I’m positive! Just get me close to Arina, and I’ll handle the rest!”

For such an absurd plan, her confidence was unshakable. At the very least, it was clear she wasn’t joking.

But Ian himself wasn’t entirely sold on the idea.

“Done strategizing?”

The scenery had already shifted—a lake now surrounded by ominous moons.

“No more time. Guess we’ve got no choice.”

As Elin and Arina exchanged spells, the other two split off to the sides.

Moonlight magic was Elin’s signature, a technique she had personally taught her disciple. Though slightly weaker, her mastery allowed her to compensate for the gap in power.

“Do what I said! Stick to the plan!”

“No choice. No idea if this’ll work, but…!”

Splitting to Arina’s left and right, the two struck simultaneously.

While bombarding Elin with magic, Arina deployed mana shields to both sides.

“This is nothing!”

Marin’s mana-charged fist shattered the shield.

Arina’s pupils dilated slightly. She’d expected Marin to break through—but not Ian.

In that instant, she severed the tense magical clash. Pivoting left, she stomped down on Ian’s sword to block it, then yanked Marin’s arm to use her as a shield.

Fwooosh! Elin’s moonlight crashed into Marin’s front.

“Guh—?!”

Used as a shield, Marin was sent flying into the conference hall’s wall, while Ian struggled to pull his sword from the ground. Elin still had mana left, but attacking now would only make Ian the next shield, so she stayed silent.

“Surely this isn’t all you’ve got?”

“Tch!”

Grabbed by the throat, Ian was lifted with one hand. His strength drained, consciousness flickering, yet he clung to his sword with trembling arms.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Arina’s hand shook just as much as his—no, even more. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked back sobs.

“Please…”

Don’t make me kill you.

My most precious friend. The one I love most.

He couldn’t breathe. His thoughts scattered. His mind refused to work.

Still, Ian forced a bloody grin and answered, as if to reassure her.

“Y…eah.”

His voice was strained, his throat crushed. But the meaning got through.

“…Really?”

Her voice clung to desperate hope, devoid of any real trust.

A magic circle unfolded over Arina’s hand—likely a spell to ensure his death.

The slave crest, no matter how much she resisted, continued to scribe formulas against her will. Holding him aloft, poised to kill, she wept uncontrollably.

“GAAAAAAAAH!”

In that moment, a battle cry rang out. Arina’s head snapped toward the sound.

Marin, having struck her own thigh hard, sprinted forward at full speed—every ounce of mana poured into her legs. Arina’s hand, mid-spell, turned toward her.

Now!

Clutching his fading consciousness, Ian twisted Arina’s wrist.

“Hhk—!”

Freed from her grip, the rush of air into his lungs sent his brain into euphoria. But there was no time to revel in it. With what little clarity he had, he steadied himself.

Arina’s magic was moments from activation. Marin, charging straight ahead, had no intention of dodging. She trusted him.

Whooosh—

Just before the spell completed, Ian swung his sword.

Had the blacksmith foreseen this moment?

Probably not.

This ability would have been useful in any situation.

Still, the old man’s sword succeeded in protecting Arina—just as he had hoped. By stopping her.

“What?!”

Arina’s eyes wavered.

The phenomenon before her was unbelievable.

A sword that repelled magic.

No one would have ever expected a weapon forged by human hands to perform such a miracle.

This was the weapon the old man had entrusted to the young man. His life’s greatest masterpiece. The one Arina had praised as the greatest blacksmith had achieved what no one else could.

The deflected magic shot skyward and vanished. Marin reached Arina.

“You… What are you planning without mana?”

If she wanted to subdue her, knocking her out would have been the best option. But Marin, completely unguarded, only grinned slyly in response.

“Heheh. Guess?”

“Wait, that smile— You’re not— Stop!”

“Hyaaaah—!!! Y-You idiot! What the hell are you thinking?!”

“What’s it look like? I’m saving you! This is a rescue operation! So it’s fine!”

Or so she tried to argue, but the sheer desire on her face and in her gestures made it utterly unconvincing.

Arina’s weakness? It went without saying—her sensitive body, of course. In reality, just having her chest groped had sapped her strength, leaving her completely subdued.

There was no way she’d be using sensation-dulling magic while bound by the slave contract. And that assumption was correct.

This was a fact only Marin knew—from before Arina started suppressing her sensitivity with magic. To Ian, Elin, and the others, it was completely new information.

Of course, having sparred with Arina countless times, Marin knew every inch of her body’s weak points by heart.

Had he already fallen too far if this was the first thing that came to mind when he heard “weakness”?

Whenever such thoughts arose, the sudden moans snapped him back to clarity. A pleasant, refreshing sound.

“Yeah, this is it.”

When she dulled her senses, the lack of sound had always felt so bland.

“Everyone’s watching! L-Let go! Stohahp—♡”

“But your body’s being honest, isn’t it? Here? You like it here, you lewd little—?”

“Y-You! I’ll kill you la—Kyaaaah♡”

“We’ve arrived in response to Duke Tronvia’s request for reinforcements from the Noble Alliance.”

“We’re here to help too!”

The Tower’s forces and the Noble Alliance’s reinforcements. A little late, but their intentions were appreciated.

But that was a separate issue from this.

“You can’t go in right now. Especially the men.”

Daniel blocked their path, preventing them from entering the conference hall.

“…Why…?”