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Let’s talk about a certain individual named Wilhelm Trias.

Wilhelm was born as the third son of the Trias Family, a local noble family in the Lugnica Kingdom.

The Trias Family is an old house with a history, holding territory near the borders of the northern country of Gusteco to the north of the kingdom. However, the glorious days as a warrior family were a thing of the past. By the time Wilhelm was born, they were little more than a weak baronial house with only a small domain and few vassals. Simply put, they were a classic case of a fallen noble family.

Having an elder brother and a second brother who possessed a modest amount of nobility befitting a lord, Wilhelm grew up in an environment that allowed him a comfortable life and the freedom to choose his own path without the burdens of inheriting the family estate.

Due to the age gap with his brothers, Wilhelm was free from concerns about succession. Unlike his brothers, who excelled in civil administration, it was a fateful encounter with a single sword that showed Wilhelm the path he should take.

A heavy sword adorned with a solemn emblem, displayed in the main hall of the mansion, was a remnant of the time when the Trias Family held a reputable martial presence in the kingdom, now merely an ornamental trophy left behind in the current Trias Family, a relic of a bygone era.

The moment he took hold of the neglected sword and drew it from its scabbard, Wilhelm found himself enchanted by its allure.

Before he knew it, he had made a habit of sneaking out with the drawn sword and swinging it from morning till night in the hills behind his home.

He first touched a sword at the age of eight and by fourteen, he had become accustomed to its weight and length, finding no rivals in his territory.

“I will go to the capital and join the kingdom’s army. I will become a knight.”

These were the kind of foolish words that any boy might think of at least once, and it was at the age of fourteen that Wilhelm dashed out of his home, leaving behind such a declaration.

Engrossed in swordplay and associating with the local rascals, it was the stern words of his eldest brother who said, “What will you do in the future?” that set the course of events in motion.

Without considering the future, Wilhelm believed that enjoying the present was all that mattered. The moment he swung the sword, he could feel the thrill of becoming stronger—this alone was his ultimate delight.

His brother’s words were harsh toward a younger sibling who held no vision for the future. Accumulated with justifiable reasoning, Wilhelm found himself at a loss for words, thus unleashing his earlier daydreams.

This turned into a verbal squabble, featuring the cliché retort, “How could my brother possibly understand my feelings?” and in the end, Wilhelm left with a bit of money and only his sword in hand.

The departure was not planned, but miraculously, Wilhelm’s first trip to the capital was accomplished before his money ran out. After all, he had always considered wielding a sword in the royal capital, just not this early and without the permission of his family.

Upon successfully arriving in the capital, Wilhelm promptly headed toward the royal castle to knock on the doors as a soldier of the kingdom’s army, aiming to etch his name into history.

Under current circumstances, anyone trying to access the castle door in such a manner would have been considered a troublemaker and promptly turned away.

However, at that time, the kingdom was embroiled in an internal conflict with the eastern subhuman alliance, and no matter how many volunteers were recruited, they were still in dire need.

A young boy, boasting even a modicum of swordsmanship, approached them. With his hands raised in greeting, Wilhelm was welcomed with open arms, and without any significant obstacles, he enlisted in the kingdom’s army.

Thus, Wilhelm entered the battlefield without suffering the hardships and setbacks most would expect, only to quickly find his swordsmanship eclipsed by the harsh realities of war, swiftly reducing his long-held sense of superiority to mere dust—a bitter yet unforgettable experience that everyone must face during their first battle.

Yet, even at this juncture, Wilhelm’s sword skills were already surpassing those of any fifteen-year-old novice with no battlefield experience.

“Man, life isn’t so hard after all!”

The sight of the young soldier piling up the bodies of subhumans and planting his sword atop them led everyone to think his future would be stained with blood.

Day after day, Wilhelm continued to swing his sword until sunset, from the age of eight all the way until he was fourteen.

Even after joining the kingdom’s army in the royal capital, he used his free time to practice more swordsmanship. His skill was on par with seasoned knights, and the name of this country boy who had yet to be knighted began to circulate within the kingdom army with expectation, while it became a dreaded name amongst the alliance of subhumans.

Neither broken by reality nor satisfied with himself, Wilhelm continued to swing his sword on the battlefield, where he would prove his might by cutting through the bodies of others and bathing in their blood. It was only in those moments that he felt a dark joy sprouting within him.

Eventually, Wilhelm began to slay people while laughing, and the name “Sword Demon” began to be evoked with both fear and hatred on the battlefield.

The number of feats that he accomplished went well beyond a mere ten. However, Wilhelm never received a knighthood. He refrained from forming bonds with others and devoted himself strictly to swordsmanship, rampaging through the battlefield as if he had no notion of his allies, diving into enemy ranks and returning with blood-soaked victories. In such a nature, a glorious title like ‘knight’ would hardly be appropriate. Even in a kingdom where the spirit of knighthood thrives, Wilhelm was treated as an outlier despite contributing to the kingdom.

And Wilhelm had no intention of changing that situation.

He believed that he was not made to be a knight who would fight to uphold others’ lives or the purity of one’s own soul. People die when they fight, blood is shed, and lives are crushed.

Feeling a twisted thirst for battle, it had long gnawed at the heart of the young man known as Wilhelm.

The first crack in this facade happened when he turned eighteen—by then, four years of service in the kingdom’s army had passed, and there was hardly anyone within the military who did not know the name of the ‘Sword Demon.’

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One day, there was a beautiful girl with long red hair and a pretty face that made you want to tremble.

Due to the expansion of the frontlines, he was forced to return to the royal capital for a while, during one of the rest days that Wilhelm had been given against his wishes.

Having been abruptly freed from days filled with blood and death, Wilhelm, with his cherished sword in hand, passed through the castle gate.

The sword from the Trias family that he had taken as a souvenir was quite worn and bedraggled after ten years of companionship. However, this sword fit his hand best. While he could still wield other swords, this one was simply the most comfortable when he was in the midst of life-and-death struggles.

Wilhelm headed to a development area on the outskirts of the royal capital. There was some ongoing construction, or so the rumors went, but he had heard that the work had not resumed after being halted for quite some time. At least by the time he arrived in the royal capital, there had already been no progress, with no prospects to restart until the internal conflict with the subhumans was settled.

“——”

The morning development area was devoid of people, and if there was anyone, they were only the rascals gathering for dubious purposes. With a little show of intimidation, they would flee without even revealing themselves.

Emptying his mind, Wilhelm calmed his nerves and drew his sword—one swing.

What came to his mind was an endless array of countless wooden dummies he had fought against before. Dodge, strike, maneuver, and sever the head.

This was the repeated sparring practice he had engaged in since childhood. As his opponents’ skills had strengthened with each passing year, he suddenly realized that now, against his current self, he had no opponents who could match him.

“Bad posture, huh?”

With muddy eyes and a grin twisted by madness, the figure standing before him was none other than Wilhelm himself, reflecting in the mirror each morning.

When faced with his own shadow and the only one to match him in skills, the opponent was merely himself. There were rumors of many capable individuals among the elite knights of the kingdom, but Wilhelm’s battlefield had no chance to fight alongside them. Naturally, he could only count himself as the opponent.

With each designated holiday, it had become Wilhelm’s routine to duel himself, unable to kill. By then, this corner of the development area had become his territory marked as that of the “Sword Demon,” and unknowingly, no one dared approach it anymore.

Finding that convenient, Wilhelm dove into the world he could only refer to as his own darkness. In there, fierce sword fights unfolded, allowing him to catch glimpses of reasons for living that he could never approach in reality.

“—Oh, pardon me.”

The intruder who abruptly entered Wilhelm’s world was a pretty girl.

Having come to swing his sword and engage in clashes as usual, he halted upon noticing her presence in the area before him.

The corner Wilhelm used was comparatively level and spacious, and yet that intruder had audaciously made herself comfortable in Wilhelm’s relaxation spot, tilting her head toward him.

“Is there really someone who comes here this early in the morning? In a place like this—”

“——”

The girl lightly smiled at Wilhelm and struck up a conversation, but Wilhelm’s response was simply to unleash his sword intent.

If she was an amateur, she would have hastily fled just from being struck by that sword intent. Even a seasoned individual would have sensed Wilhelm’s skills and would have quickly exited.

Yet, that girl, against all odds—

“…Is something wrong? You look scary.”

Unfazed, she brushed off his sword intent and continued talking.

Feeling irritated, Wilhelm clicked his tongue.

The one who disregards the sword intent is clearly someone unaffected by martial arts. While those who know violence would respond to Wilhelm’s intimidation, those completely disconnected would merely see it as a mere display. Some may even perceive his intimidation merely as a narrowing of their eyes.

In the case of this girl before him, she was indeed the latter which made him think.

“What is a girl doing here this early in the morning, anyway?”

Still unable to remove his gaze from her, Wilhelm exhaled deeply, and thus he responded. The girl let out a small ‘hmm’ in reply.

“I’d love to throw back your words just as they are, but saying that isn’t very kind, is it? You don’t look like the type to understand jokes.”

“There are many dangerous folks around here. It’s not wise for a girl to walk alone.”

“Oh, are you worried about me?”

“What if I’m one of those dangerous ones?”

Retracting his voice response, Wilhelm met her lightheartedness with sarcasm, signaling to his prey with the ringing of his sword hilt. However, she never once glanced at him and directed her attention to something beside her.

“What are you looking at?”

She pointed toward the other side of the area. Wilhelm narrowed his brow, puzzled, as he couldn’t see from his position, and she beckoned him.

“It’s not like I want to see it or anything—”

“Just come, just come.”

The way she spoke was akin to soothing a child, causing Wilhelm’s lips to twitch slightly. Still, he shut his eyes to calm his nerves and stepped closer to her, placing his foot on the edge and leaning forward to peek over.

“——”

Before him laid a field of yellow flowers illuminated by the morning sunlight.

“Since the development work has been halted, I thought no one would come here, so I sowed seeds. I came to see the results.”

As the words flowed from her, Wilhelm found himself at a loss for words.

He had been coming here for quite a long time and yet had never noticed this flower field. Just a brief look into the deeper area provided an unexpected view he had missed.

“Do you like flowers?”

The girl asked the still-silent Wilhelm, who turned to face her, gazing intently at the girl with a faint smile.

“Actually, I hate them.”

He responded in a low voice, twisting his lips.

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Since then, meetings with the girl continued to happen frequently.

In the early mornings of his days off spent in the development area, she was always there first, quietly observing the flower field with the breeze caressing her.

When she noticed Wilhelm’s presence, she would ask, “Have you come to like flowers?”

He would simply shake his head and immerse himself in practicing his swordplay, as if he had forgotten her existence.

After sweating profusely, losing himself in the bouts of his mind, and eventually lifting his head, he would find her still lingering there.

“You sure have a lot of free time, huh.”

It had become customary for Wilhelm to respond with sarcasm.

Bit by bit, their conversation time seemed to increase.

What used to be solely post-sword practice exchanges began to include a brief conversation before the practice. The time spent talking afterward would also gradually extend a little.

Before long, he began to arrive earlier and sometimes found himself stepping onto the even ground before the girl, causing her to remark, “Oh, you’re here early today,” leaving him smirking at her remarks.

It was around three months into their encounters that they finally exchanged names.

The girl who introduced herself as Tereshia pouted slightly and said, “That’s a bit late, isn’t it?” To which Wilhelm replied, “I’ve been calling you Flower Girl up to now,” aggravating her further.

As they learned each other’s names, they began to dive a little deeper into each other’s lives. What had been mere small talk started to transform into something with more substance.

One day, Tereshia asked why he swung his sword.

Without pondering much, Wilhelm replied simply, “Because there’s nothing else.”

His days in the army were still as bloody as ever.

The war against the subhumans intensified, allowing him to slip past magic and pierce through enemies, repeating the gruesome duty of slashing through necks from under their bodies.

He would run across the battlefield, peeling away foes’ heads while wielding a sword. Upon returning to his lines with the blade still stained and receiving mixed reactions of awe and fear, he would exhale deeply.

He suddenly noticed flowers at his feet, soaked in blood, swaying gently in the wind.

Surprisingly, he noticed that he was trying not to step on them too.

“Have you come to like flowers?”

“No, I still hate them.”

“Why do you swing your sword?”

“This is all I have left…”

The familiar exchanges with Tereshia about flowers were met with smiles from Wilhelm. However, it began to pain him to deliver the constant responses regarding the sword.

Why did he swing the sword?

As he thought back to the days spent in thought-revoking silence, he returned to the very first day he held a sword.

Back then, his sword didn’t bear the witness of blood, and its blade glimmered without blemish. He couldn’t help but wonder what he thought when gazing up at the oversized weapon in his tiny hands.

One day, still lost in an unending cycle of thoughts without answers, he found himself at their usual meeting spot.

His steps felt heavy, dismayed at facing whatever awaited him.

Had he truly never struggled or felt such proclivity in his life until now? Wasn’t the reason he kept swinging his sword originally based on the desire for such simplicity, he thought, until—

“—Wilhelm.”

The girl who had been there first turned to face him, smiling and calling out his name.

In that fleeting moment, his soul trembled.

His feet froze, and an avalanche of feelings swelled within him, pouring out uncontrollably.

By immersing himself in the mindset of swinging the sword without care, he had left behind everything else, and now it all rushed back to him.

He didn’t understand why or how it happened; all he could recognize was that something within him had finally reached its breaking point.

Why did he swing the sword?

Why had he begun swinging in the first place?

He admired the sword’s brilliance, its strength, and the purity of living as a blade.

That existed, but the beginning must have been something else entirely.

“I must do what my brothers can’t.”

It was because his brothers, while trying their best to protect the house, were completely unfamiliar with swordsmanship.

Even so, they did all they could to maintain the family honor and fight to uphold that household, prompting Wilhelm to seek alternative methods to protect it.

Thus, he had become bewitched by the sword’s shine and power.

“Have you come to love flowers?”

“…I wouldn’t say I dislike them.”

“Why do you swing your sword?”

“Because I couldn’t think of another way to protect.”

From then on, those preordained exchanges came to an end.

In their place, Wilhelm found himself initiating topics more often than not. Eventually, he realized he was visiting not only to swing his sword but also to converse with Tereshia.

The place where he was supposed to swing his sword began to transform into a site for exchanging words instead.

This gradual shift in Wilhelm’s behavior as the “Sword Demon” on the battlefield began during this period.

Previously, he was solely focused on how quickly he could close the gap and how many enemies he could cut down. Yet gradually, his body shifted to thinking more about how to fight without harming his allies.

Instead of prioritizing an opponent’s demise, he increasingly focused on incapacitating enemies and providing cover for his comrades. Inevitably, perceptions of him began to shift around others.

He was being addressed more often and began to engage in dialogues as well.

Eventually, conversations about knighthood, something he had previously thought unrelated to him, began to surface. He even found himself considering the benefits of receiving such a title.

Having some honor would add credibility to his own motivations.

“When talk of nobility surfaced, I became a knight.”

“Congratulations! You’ve taken a step closer to your dream.”

“Dream?”

“You took up the sword to protect, right? Knights protect others.”

Among the things he wished to protect, the image of her smile imprinted itself on his heart.

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Time continued to flow.

After gaining a knighthood and interacting with more individuals within the military, information began to circulate naturally. The internal conflict with the subhumans only deepened, with battles ebbing and flowing across various fronts. Wilhelm not only experienced victories but also faced his fair share of defeats.

With every loss, he fought with all his might to offer protection to whomever lay within sword’s reach and bore the frustration of being unable to reach those outside it.

—He learned that the fires of civil war had spread to the lands of the Trias family, which could be pinpointed to the influence of the growing friendships he had established.

What had initially begun as strife in the eastern territories had grown, reaching the borders of the northern lands of the Trias family.

There had been no orders issued. If one were thinking about his obligations as a knight and loyalty to the army, undertaking random acts was strictly forbidden.

However, for Wilhelm, who harbored the feelings he had at the moment he first held the sword, such constraints held no real significance.

The familiar territory he rushed back to had already witnessed the devastation of enemy invasions claiming the majority.

The scenery from which he had turned away five years ago felt unfamiliar. Faced with the reality of his nostalgia being washed out, Wilhelm drew his sword, raised his voice, and dove into the blood-soaked chaos.

He cut down foes, trampling over corpses as he yelled until his throat went dry, soaking himself in the blood of others.

Living for the sword, surviving through the sword—he fought the only way he knew, certain that there was no meaning in living unless it was connected to the blade.

He faced overwhelming odds. There was no reinforcement and his original forces were feeble.

Unlike the previous battles where he had fought side-by-side with comrades, Wilhelm was alone, with no choice to retreat. He had realized how often he had grown vainly inflated with the idea that he was fighting solely by his own abilities, suffering from multiple wounds until he found himself incapacitated.

Collapsing atop the mountain of enemies that he had slain, he felt the momentum from the numerous oncoming foes overwhelming him. He sensed death knocking at his doorstep.

With the sword he had long cherished dropping beside him, he lacked the energy to pick it up again. As he closed his eyes, the memories of his life flashed before him, where all he could remember was carrying on with the sword.

He was at risk of concluding it was all lonely and meaningless, yet in that moment, the faces of countless individuals flickered through his mind.

His parents, his two brothers, the childhood friends who had once caused trouble with him, the comrades he had fought alongside in the kingdom army—they all surfaced in quick succession, and lastly, Tereshia, who seemed to be resting amongst the flowers.

“I don’t want to die…”

Although he had believed that living solely through the sword was his purpose.

When he truly laid everything on that blade, staring at the end that he had long sought, the only thing that struck him was an unbearable sense of loneliness.

That crumbling thought would not be forgiven by the many enemies who had slaughtered his compatriots.

The green-scaled subhuman, possessing an exceptionally large frame, swung down a great sword toward Wilhelm mercilessly—

“——”

The beauty of the unleashed strike would forever be etched into memory.

The winds of the sword rampaged, and with each blow, the limbs, heads, and torsos of subhumans were cleaved away.

A roar rose among the enemy ranks, yet the rapid pace at which the blades flew was far beyond that, leading to numerous deaths in quick succession.

What unfolded before him was like a nightmarish scene.

The mist of blood rose up, and the screams of subhumans could not even escape their lips as their lives were reaped. The vividness of the onslaught extinguished the flames of life without notifying even the victims of their demise.

Whether it was cruelty or mercy, no one could tell anymore.

What only remained clear was a singular truth.

—In that realm of swords, he would never reach with his entire lifetime.

Having spent the larger part of his not-so-long life thus far in earnest pursuit of living as a swordsman, he fully grasped just how unattainable the heights of the swordplay that played out before him truly were.

He could discern the reality that such skills would always slip through his fingers like sand.

If what Wilhelm generated was a valley of blood, what lay before him was an ocean of crimson. The sheer number of slain foes was beyond comparison as well.

Until every last one of the invaders who dared encroach upon the Trias lands was eradicated, the onslaught would not cease.

Witnessing the overwhelming expulsion of life, Wilhelm was carried off to safety by the comrades who had arrived late, and while receiving healing for his wounds—

He could hardly take his eyes off the figure of the swordsman swaying elegantly, walking away without a trace of blood upon him.

He finally understood the truth.

He would never reach that place.

It was after returning to the royal capital that he first heard the name “Sword Saint.”

In the shadow of the Sword Demon, the name of the Sword Saint began to resonate far and wide.

“Sword Saint”—it was the legendary figure who had once slain a witch.

Only the blessings remained in the blood, eternally protecting any members of the family as transcendents.

While the name of the current Sword Saint had never before made a public appearance, such would change from that day forward.

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Only a few days later, once he had healed enough to return to their usual spot.

Firmly gripping his beloved sword, Wilhelm slowly stepped forth, convinced that Tereshia would surely be there. Exactly as he anticipated, she was resting at that place, unchanged.

Before she could turn towards him, he drew the sword from its scabbard and sprang toward her.

Just as the blade was about to cut her head in twain—she caught it with just the tips of her fingers. He felt awe as it stuck in his throat, an involuntary smile breaking through.

“What a shame.”

“——Really?”

“Were you laughing at me?”

“——”

“Answer me, Tereshia… no, Sword Saint!!”

With all his strength, Wilhelm tried to wrest his sword from her grasp and strike again, only to find it deftly dodged with not a strand of hair disheveled. He got tripped and knocked down unceremoniously.

An insurmountable wall loomed large, an incomprehensible gap stood between the two.

“I won’t come here again.”

Having slashed multiple times and faced retaliation from Tereshia, Wilhelm was brought to the ground.

In no time, his beloved sword was seized from him, and with the flat of her blade pressing against his chest, he found himself utterly immobilized.

So distant. So weak. So inaccessible. So inadequate.

“Don’t make that face… holding a sword is no business for you.”

“I’m the Sword Saint. I didn’t know why, but I’ve figured it out.”

“Reason…?”

“To wield the sword to protect someone. I think that’s wonderful.”

In those moments, she delivered the reason that had eluded the girl who loved flowers.

Given her unparalleled strength and her ability to encompass mastery over her sword, the weight of the sin he imparted onto her bore down even heavier.

To clear the guilt he placed upon her, he declared—

“Wait, Tereshia…!”

“…………”

“I’ll take your sword from you. I don’t care about the protection or the role given… do not underestimate the beauty of wielding the sword, Sword Saint.”

As Tereshia turned away, the foolish demon who was enamored with blades stood alone amongst the greenery, resolute.

From that moment forth, they would never meet at that place again.

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The figure of the Sword Demon vanished from the kingdom’s army, replaced instead by the Sword Saint who began making a name for herself within the ranks.

Embodiment of a one-man army—Tereshia’s valor shifted the tides of battle at a breathtaking pace. While she performed individually, her prowess transcended from the realm of singularity. The booming name of “Sword Saint” was a whisper of despair in the hearts of the subhumans who knew the legend.

The war concluded roughly two years after the Sword Saint made her battlefield debut.

Concessions would be reached through negotiations led by both sides’ leaders, marking the end of the conflict for those who wielded swords.

To celebrate the end of the fighting, a modest yet vibrant ceremony was held in the royal capital.

Countless awards were slated for presentation to the beautiful and powerful Sword Saint.

People from all over the kingdom flocked to the royal capital and to the castle to catch a glimpse of her, embroiled in the frenzy that accompanied such a heroic figure who had brought an end to the war—a young girl.

Amidst this commotion, it was then that the Sword Demon suddenly descended to interrupt.

Before the rabble, the guards appeared alarmed as an intruder unsheathed their sword. Yet, no one expected what followed: the Sword Saint stepped forward to meet the villain.

The sight of the girl brandishing her own sword against the aggressor left everyone silently entranced.

Her posture was beautifully refined, rendering everyone hesitant to speak.

In contrast, what an evil aura emanated from the figure she faced.

Dressed in a brown cloak, the visible skin caked in rainwater and mud, the sword in hand was frail compared to the ceremonial swords used by the Sword Saint. While its make was impressive, its blade bent, and patches of rust were apparent.

The king on the platform attempted to halt the knights eager to assist the Sword Saint. As she stepped forward, her sword gleamed, leading to a collective silence among the assembly as they anticipated the clash.

The sound of clashing blades split the air, reverberating through the crowd.

The glimmering blades intertwined, spiraling and whipping through the air at an electrifying speed, ushering in a rush of energy that motivated spectators to cry out and even weep.

A wonderful display unfolded before the people—the abilities pushing the realm of impossible.

They realized that humans could reach such heights.

Blades clashed, blades crossed, edges dazzled, and they went on battling.

Then finally—

“——”

The rusty blade snapped cleanly in two, sending the tip spinning through the air.

The Sword Saint brandished the sword used for ceremonies as if declaring—

“I win!”

“………..”

“I don’t believe a sword-wielding you could exist any longer.”

“Should I fail to wield the sword, then who will?”

“The reason you wielded the sword will be inherited by me. You shall reside behind me, peacefully—perhaps tending to flowers.”

“Will you protect me?”

“Indeed.”

“Will you guard me?”

“Absolutely.”

With her hand pressed against the sword’s hilt, Tereshia stepped slightly forward.

Their faces drew closer, the distance narrowing, until it vanished altogether.

After parting lips at such close range, Tereshia blushed, looking up at Wilhelm.

“Do you love me?”

“—Get lost.”

He averted his gaze, rudely uttering those words.

As time resumed its flow among the onlookers, the guards surged forward in all directions. Wilhelm noticed familiar faces and merely shrugged at the sight.

Tereshia puffed her cheeks at his aloofness, reminiscent of the days they had laughed together among the flower fields.

“There are things I wish you would put into words.”

“Ah—”

Scratching his head, he grimaced at his discomfort as he turned back to her, leaning in close to whisper in her ear, “I’ll tell you when I feel like it.”

He covered his embarrassment with those words.

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The brilliant sword cut through the calloused exterior easily, sending the winds rushing through.

“Ooooooowwwwwww!!”

As the old swordsman chased after the heroic figure of the one who had shouted, blood gushed forth from the gash left behind, painting the very sky crimson.

His body was battered and bruised.

His left arm hung by a thread from the shoulder, and the blood saturating him was a mixture of both his own blood and that of others.

The minor healing magical effect would provide little more than a temporary seal to the wounds and a slight restoration of stamina. Regardless, his serious condition remained unchanged.

Yet, looking at Wilhelm in his current state, who could laugh and call him a dying old man?

With the light shining from his eyes, the power in his steps, vitality in his blade as it danced through the air, and the echoing shouts resonating in the air, who would dare call the culmination of that man’s life foolish?

The blade raced forth and the cries echoed, sending the writhing Mist Beast into convulsions of agony.

The massive body pinned down by the great tree remained unable to move, yet Wilhelm, the Sword Demon, showed no hesitation as he unleashed his blade across the back of the enchantment-beast.

The cut would start from the very tip of its head, through its back, down into its tail, before landing back to pierce its abdomen again, this time again seeking the head.

With a single stroke—long, deep, and sharp, he cleaved the Mist Beast in two.

With a leap, the sword demon once again landed before the Mist Beast’s snout.

Flipping the bloodied blade, he gazed into the right eye of the beast that was now fixating on him.

“I have no intention of calling you evil. It is pointless trying to teach morality to a beast. What stands between you and me is simply the absolute law of the strong who reap the weak.”

“—”

“Sleep. —For eternity.”

In a final breath signaled by a soft whimper, the light vanished from the Mist Beast’s eye.

Naturally, the magnificent mass suddenly sank, its collapsing body causing a ripple as streams of fresh blood flowed forth, creating a scarlet flood.

No one could muster the strength to form words at that moment.

Silence fell upon Leifahus Road, and then——

“It’s over, Tereshia. Finally—”

Underneath the motionless body of the Mist Beast, Wilhelm gazed at the sky.

Dropping his treasured sword, he covered his face with his empty hand, and as the Sword Demon trembled, he called out in a hoarse voice.

“Tereshia, I—”

In that hushed voice lingering in the air, there remained an undiminished tide of love.

“I love you—!!”

The unspoken words of love known only to Wilhelm.

Until the day he lost his beloved, he had never been able to articulate that emotional eruption.

In that moment when he had once been asked by her, Wilhelm finally spoke the words he should have said long ago, after decades of soothing his heart.

Upon the carcass of the Mist Beast, the fallen Sword Demon wept, calling out his love to the woman he had lost.

“—Here lies the Mist Beast.”

Silently yet resolutely, that voice resonated through the night of the plain.

The men, deprived of words until then, raised their heads, looking upon the girl who strode forward, riding the Earth Dragon.

Her long green hair was disheveled, the decorations she wore tarnished from the battle, and her face smeared with blood—all of it a wretched sight.

Yet to their eyes, she radiated a brightness far beyond any moment prior.

If the radiance of a soul determined a person’s value, then it was only natural.

Without the ceremonial sword, she now carried nothing.

Thus, she raised her empty fist towards the heavens, revealing it to all.

“Wilhelm van Astraea, the Mist Beast that terrorized the world for four hundred years—has been slain!!”

“—Oh!!”

“This battle marks our victory—!!”

The triumphant announcement swept forth from the lord, and the surviving knights erupted in cheers.

With the mist cleared over the plains, the night was poised to return. The moonlight washed over the people below, shining brightly as it should, bringing back a rightful serenity.

—Thus concluded the Battle Against the Mist Beast, spanning hundreds of years.