The battles unfolding throughout the city were gradually coming to an end.

The destruction inflicted on various battle zones was severe, with numerous locations suffering blows that significantly impacted urban functionality.

This fact speaks volumes about the magnitude of the crisis that had struck the city of Pristella — a result that heralded the threat brought about by the Witch Cult, which had inflicted malice upon the city.

Amidst the ongoing devastation, there was one battleground that differed remarkably from the others.

Perhaps it was inappropriate to even call it a battlefield.

The clash of swords echoed ceaselessly, with shimmering blades aiming solely at each other’s lives.

Unnecessary things were stripped away, and there remained only the clumsy exchanges of two swordsmen, their blades pointed at the essence of what they truly desired.

“————”

The gleaming blade reflected the moonlight as the swordsmen continued their exchange of love beyond the steel.

Sharp sounds, flying sparks, white hair and red hair dancing beneath the moonlight.

All of it captivated the audience, ensnaring their hearts and even drawing admiration from divine sword masters with its beautiful and refined sword dance.

The longsword’s smooth and fluid movements evoked the image of water, hiding the fierce power within.

The twin blades’ busy assault rushed forth like lightning.

“————”

In an elegant dance, each swordsman continued to engage with the other.

Wilhelm faced Tereshia’s attacks head-on, unleashing strikes in return, savoring the weight conveyed through his palms.

What surged from deep within his body was the applause of an immature heart that had yet to mature despite the passage of time.

—It was boiling.

—It was rejoicing.

—It was dazzling.

I can honestly declare this.

The sword demon Wilhelm was yearning for this moment he could share a duel with his beautiful wife from his youth. His heart was burning with desire.

He wished that this clash of swords, this encounter, would never end, to the point he could forsake everything else.

“But —”

Such selfishness was a blasphemy that he couldn’t even allow himself to hold.

It was a blasphemy against the unquenchable days he had devoted to the sword.

It was a blasphemy against the oaths he made to defeat Tereshia, the former sword saint, who he had once vanquished and stripped of her title.

It was a blasphemy against his loyalty to his lord, to whom he owed a great debt as a swordsman.

The love burning in Wilhelm van Astraea’s chest blindly following that love was a blasphemy to all in this world living in this moment.

—Therefore, the resolution could not be delayed.

—No matter how pleasant of a paradise this moment was for the sword demon.

“————”

“Gah, ahhh!!”

The silent flash of swords surged like a storm, met by countless sword strikes in response.

White-clad Tereshia, flowing her red long hair, moved without any hesitation.

Like leaves dancing in a stream, utterly natural from within, she unleashed lethal strikes.

From various angles, her deadly sword attacks didn’t choose direction.

As he clashed blows, Wilhelm sensed a faint discomfort, and he also felt the acknowledgment of that discomfort within the pressure of the strikes.

Tereshia van Astraea’s skill as a swordsman was exceptional.

It was clear that even for Wilhelm in the prime of his physical existence, he could never match her pure swordsmanship.

Even now, in the wordless clash, Tereshia’s blade definitely embodied that skill.

The sword saint’s craft could mercilessly dispatch foes while providing a sense of relief accompanied by ecstasy to her protectors.

—However, there was a crucial difference between who she was now and who she was back then.

“—Light.”

The twin swords clashed against the longsword, creating sparks as the sword demon exclaimed.

While dueling in a blade lock, Wilhelm glared into Tereshia’s blue eyes visible beyond the blades.

“It’s incomparably light, Tereshia. —Has your sword become so light after shedding your burdens?”

“————”

Her stunning beauty didn’t flinch at his words that carried a hint of disappointment.

With unfeeling, azure eyes, Tereshia stared back at Wilhelm.

There was no rebuttal, no resentment, nor hostility there.

She was a woman who laughed heartily, got angry, and easily sulked.

A woman who was as beautiful as a blade when silent, yet seldom remained so.

She was a woman like a grand flower blooming under the sun.

—And now, that was just sad.

“————”

There was only the husk of his silent wife remaining there.

With each sword clash, Wilhelm’s heart was in turmoil.

It bounced back to the past, understood that returning to those days was impossible, and yet couldn’t let go of those days, dozing in a fleeting dream.

—Fifteen years, what kind of days had Tereshia endured?

Thinking of the time he had spent avenging her, Wilhelm felt the unhealed wound on his shoulder making itself known.

The wounds inflicted by the “Grim Reaper’s Blessing” could never be healed.

That was beyond a mere “Sword Saint’s Blessing”, it was a divine gift bestowed on Tereshia to end those tumultuous days of war.

One cut could birth rivers of blood, sharp strikes built mountains of corpses.

Thus, in severing the lifeline, there was no need for any tricks.

To surpass Tereshia, he could only acquire overwhelming sword power.

The former Wilhelm had reached that point through severe ascetic training that sapped his very soul, achieving it through the edge of his blade.

Under the “Sword Saint’s Blessing”, defeating Tereshia would have been impossible in any other way, as her skill had been drawn to her utmost limits.

And now, as he faced the young version of her, Wilhelm understood.

—Her sword skills were exceptional, matured. However, that sword’s power had an evident shadow.

“Even if you hesitate before gripping a sword, once the sword is touched, there’s no room for doubt. You must have considerably understood more than I did, Tereshia.”

“————”

“Do you remember what you said when we parted? During the Great Expedition, you shook off my pleas, leaving me this eternal wound on my shoulder. —I have not forgotten a single word of what you said that day.”

There was no reply. None was sought.

This was merely a ritual for Wilhelm to reflect upon that day.

With the pain in his shoulder, memories etched in there came rushing back.

As he embarked toward a journey back that had potential to lead to never returning, Tereshia had literally shaken him off and said.

—When you come back, please tell me the words you couldn’t speak that day.

“I have come to fulfill that promise from that day—!”

The twin swords roared as Tereshia’s longsword was deflected.

The former sword saint even utilized the recoil to swing her blade, yet Wilhelm avoided it without watching the counterattack, reading its trajectory.

He could understand.

Wherever the blade would come, with a love so profound.

“Uurgh, aahhh!”

Their quirks were the same. Their techniques were identical.

Within the soul-sapping ascetic training of his past, Wilhelm had envisioned and pursued the sword saint’s blade technique.

He vowed to break and steal it, burning with the desire to reach that level, sacrificing his very soul.

This formed the image of her who had ignited his heart.

“————”

Despite Wilhelm’s entreaties, Tereshia’s red beauty remained unmoved.

Silent, emotionless sword strikes sped forth, and Wilhelm shot down all of them.

He loved her so much that he could even tell with his eyes closed.

Therefore, he wouldn’t close his eyes but look and love her until the end.

“—Hah!”

—Upward parries, thrusts, deflections, diagonal cuts.

Receiving descending blades, flowing aside to dodge the slashes, avoiding thrusts cried up as he spun around, entangling with the dual swords raised against the diagonal cut.

The brilliant defense overwhelmed with numbers, causing Tereshia’s sword speed to become strained.

Unable to hold any longer, Tereshia retreated, and without hesitation, Wilhelm dove into the gaps.

“————”

For a brief moment, emotions flickered within Tereshia’s eyes as she looked at the sword demon.

No, it was merely an illusion. That was simply a memory from when they had once faced the exact same situation, the emotional nature of this heart just dredging it up.

—Before the eyes of many citizens, Wilhelm defeated the “Sword Saint”, the center of the ceremony, and took away the young Tereshia from the sword god.

The scene was an exact replay of that moment.

Then, the conclusion should be the same as well.

“Tereshia—!!”

As Wilhelm dove into her embrace, the longsword awaited with an upward swipe.

The sword demon swept it upwards with his twin blades, causing cracks to form upon the burdened blade. However, at the same moment, the longsword was forced upwards, creating a large opening in Tereshia’s stance.

Drawing a wide semicircle, Wilhelm’s twin swords returned.

Before him stood Tereshia who had created the greatest opening since the beginning of this encounter. His arm muscles bulged, and his grip tightened on the hilt.

He aimed to finalize this impossible reunion with an all-out strike.

—To finish it.

“—Hah!”

The rising fervor choked his throat, and a myriad of expressions floated within his wide-open eyes.

Crying face, angry face, sulking face, smiling face— all belonged to the same woman, the face he cherished.

Shaking off all of it, Wilhelm struck downward with his blade.

The slash raced through, heading straight for the woman’s neck and torso—

“————”

Just before the blade could land a direct hit, a shadow flickered at the corner of Wilhelm’s eye.

In a moment of extreme concentration, this shouldn’t have been possible. However, it was just that. Something insignificant, something he could disregard altogether.

In the life-and-death realm where swordsmen vie for their lives, there was no room for anyone else.

He should have poured everything into the presence before him and achieved his objective with sword strikes befitting a sword demon.

That should have been the case. It should have been possible.

—If only the shadow that reflected there were just an unrelated stranger.

“—Father?”

The distance was considerable.

The whisper barely echoed into Wilhelm’s ears as he was not close enough to hear clearly.

Yet, the voice seemed as though it had been uttered right next to him.

A red-haired man with blue eyes was staring at him.

Heinkel Astraea was witnessing the last moments of this battle.

He was seeing the fatal clash between Wilhelm, his father, and Tereshia, his mother, just blankly.

—At that moment, the sword strike grew dull.

“—Hah!”

The decisive cut had just been released.

That sword strike should have tipped the tide of battle and ended this long dream—yet that single stroke dulled, creating an opening for retaliation.

“————”

Tereshia arched backward sharply, the recoil from her wrist returning longsword deflected the twin blades.

The sound of steel grinding echoed, and the strike that was promised as fatal fell to chaos of broken spirit and body, scattering sparks and moving farther away from its target.

“Gah…!”

—Why did I notice?

As he endured the weight of that returned strike with all his strength, Wilhelm clashed head-on with the rising doubts in his chest.

Had he not recognized Heinkel’s presence, or if he could have ignored that existence, and had he focused entirely on Tereshia, he wouldn’t have been reduced to such an embarrassing state.

He had sworn to dedicate his life to snatching Tereshia away from the sword god.

Could the result of that grand resolve be this pitiful state?

Once more, the sleek sound of sword clashes began to resonate.

However, the transparent steel-on-steel clashes of the previous exchanges were already lost.

Impurities had seeped into it.

Pouring all the strength he possessed into it, the purity of steel should have risen with each clash, but that fantasy of just there being but two blades had vanished far away.

What remained was an aging sword demon left alone, clashing swords with his beloved wife before his son.

Unable to become the sword, unable to even be a sword demon, lacking as a father, a husband, a swordsman, and as a man— he realized his incompetence and incompleteness.

Soon, he wouldn’t be able to sever himself from any one of these roles; he had become aware of his own lack of proficiency.

He could not stop the intrusion of negativity into the sword energy he should have poured into the blade.

Thus, this result may have been inevitable.

“—Hah!?”

He knocked away the two blades, and the follow-up shock rattled the straight sword.

Having received the blow of that sword, a power contest erupted between him and Tereshia, who had halted her steps— as he saw her slender figure twist around him, a void appeared.

Stepping forward, he created the opening.

“————”

Immediately afterward, the sensation of death approached from behind.

He had swiftly used his sword to receive the slash wielded in a straight line with overwhelming power.

Before he could stop the piercing shock, the hilt of the sword sank deeply into his shoulder. Stumbling forward, blood gushed out, bones creaked, and muscles tore, sending thunder through his brain.

He held it off with his right blade. He still had his left one.

Blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Wilhelm used his right blade to hoist Tereshia’s longsword back up.

Without losing focus, Tereshia’s longsword ascended.

At the same time, the sword slipped from Wilhelm’s right hand. He didn’t care. If his right hand was empty, he would pour everything into the remaining left blade.

He thrust at Tereshia behind him with his left sword.

Drawing a right circular arc, the fierce cut plunged straight into Tereshia—

“————”

Sparks flew.

And echoed was a high-pitched sound.

Half the weight of the steel had diminished within his grasp, and Wilhelm was forced to confront his own folly and the weakness he had repeatedly recognized during this very battle.

At the moment he struck Tereshia, Wilhelm unconsciously chose his action.

Whether the blade held in his left hand would be unleashed from the left or right circle.

Such a trivial, insignificant choice.

But at the same time, it was a fatal difference for both of them who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

Selecting the left for speed, or right for power.

Had he hesitated with that choice, it could have still ended in salvation.

Wilhelm had hesitated for a fleeting moment over whether to look at Tereshia directly.

“————”

The sword that struck the sword demon was the one that had been released from Wilhelm’s hand.

That stabbing sword was caught mid-air by Tereshia and wedged into the trajectory of the attack.

As their blades intersected, freezing in that fraction of a second, the longsword fell with great force. It swept across Wilhelm’s sword, easily severing it without resistance.

The strike from the longsword shattered Wilhelm’s weapon, awakening the realization of his lost blade. Instinct as a swordsman let him tightly grasp the handle of the broken sword to prepare for the next attack.

However, such resolve could only bear fruit due to a stark difference in the purity as a swordsman.

And in that regard, the woman before him was the worst possible opponent.

A sword demon without a weapon versus a “Sword Saint” loved by the sword god.

That difference was glaring, needless to say.

—In a moment that felt as if even a blink had been forgotten, Wilhelm watched his right foot be pierced by the longsword.

“————”

It was a sword so beautiful it made one swoon.

The blade pierced through the old swordsman’s right hip, sullying its tip with only the least amount of blood.

It did not cause unnecessary destruction but had effortlessly passed through the muscle fibers and nerves, merely robbing him of the function of the leg with exquisite swordplay.

The feeling carried an unresisting demeanor as though standing the edge of the water.

With that sensation being performed on his right foot, tremors coursed down Wilhelm’s spine.

He couldn’t fathom whether this feeling was rooted in admiration, frustration, or love.

All he knew was that the reality of defeat pressed itself upon him.

“Uurgh….”

The blade stuck in his foot slid out, his knee splitting down the middle.

Just as it had entered, the longsword was pulled out of him without a sound, and Wilhelm groaned in agony as he crumbled to the ground.

Blood gushed from the wound in his leg, and he lost the strength in his lower half.

If the power of the “Grim Reaper’s Blessing” activated, his wounds would not heal regardless of what healing magic was used. The closer he was to the bearer of the blessing, the greater the effect, turning even minimal injuries into a curse that repeatedly drew blood from him endlessly.

“————”

Wilhelm’s wound in his right foot was not a shallow one that could be described as minor. Left untreated, it was a grave injury that could endanger his life, and the “Grim Reaper’s Blessing” was forcibly rejecting any healing.

One should have seen the time left to live as far too short.

“…I have regrets.”

As agony scorched his brain, a sigh of despair escaped him before a painful groan.

The sharp pain did not show itself on his face more than a frown.

He wasn’t putting on a brave front or being stubborn.

The acute stimulus to the body could never eclipse the darkness overshadowing his heart.

When disappointment, discouragement, and a sense of inadequacy burned his soul, how much meaning would physical pain hold for this old swordsman?

“————”

Dropping the sword from his hands, Wilhelm pressed his palm against the wound.

Bleeding was the outflow of life, and the defeated had no intention of shunning that grotesquely. Just as a matter of courtesy, he should not face the end with a blood loss death.

He should fight as a swordsman, resist as a swordsman, and fall as a swordsman.

Then, the life of that defeated person must be taken by the winner’s blade.

“Tereshia, I…”

“————”

The red-haired swordswoman bearing the longsword looked down upon Wilhelm.

Once again, her eyes were bereft of any sentiment. Until the end, she would remember nothing, having no emotions as she became the reaper of Wilhelm’s life.

He marveled at how beautiful her face was.

Tereshia silently raised her blade before Wilhelm. When that sword fell, Wilhelm’s life would also be extinguished.

But—

“One shall never go alone…!”

Just as the longsword was about to fall, Wilhelm stretched out his right hand. There was Tereshia’s discarded sword – half of the twin swords – lying there.

Wilhelm reached for it with his fingertips, struggling to fight back until the very end.

Defeat was acceptable. There was no helping that.

But he could not let Tereshia remain alone here, he wouldn’t leave her behind.

Unable to stop his wife from swinging her sword against an unspeakable adversary, he refused to allow her to stride forth towards Crusch, Subaru, and the others with our debt.

If this life were insufficient, then he wouldn’t care if they obliterated his soul after death.

—Nevertheless, that resolve was—

“————”

“Tereshia…?”

With the sword still poised, Tereshia leaped back.

She had withdrawn beyond the reach of the thrust, arching away from the vulnerable Wilhelm whose injured foot could not reach her.

With her emotionless gaze, he first felt fear upon seeing the emptiness ripple through Tereshia’s blue eyes.

That terror was a primal instinct, one that called out to Wilhelm’s instincts as a swordsman.

That there was no need to hastily deliver the death’s blow to a mortally wounded target.

A judgment delivered by a ruthless reaper devoid of any pride as a swordsman.

“Stop… Stop it, Tereshia!!”

In terror of being left behind, Wilhelm shouted out loudly.

His foot was nothing painful. Forgetting the pain in his right foot, Wilhelm attempted to chase after the retreating Tereshia. But although he felt no pain, the wound was still a reality. He could not exert his strength and found himself tumbling forward. Even as he bore the impact on his shoulder, the old swordsman lifted his face.

Tereshia, her red long hair flowing, moved away.

In her path stood Heinkel, standing in a daze.

The longsword, still brimming with fighting spirit, now set its sights on him as the next target.

She would slay the man who did not recognize his husband, then the man who would not recognize her son next— to this end—

“Stop, Tereshia! Do you think… do you think that is permitted!? Fight me! Look at me… look at me, I’m right here, Tereshiaaaa!!”

With a voice that sounded like he was expelling blood, Wilhelm called out to Tereshia.

I wished to call out her name that I had missed so many times, but it came out altered, filled with anger instead of love, with madness instead of passion.

Yet, she did not turn back.

With the sword that held the reaper’s intent, Tereshia drifted toward Heinkel. Stricken, Heinkel nervously grasped his knightly sword with trembling hands.

“W-wait, wait! You… Tereshia, this can’t be true! It can’t be… she was supposed to be my mother…!”

“————”

“No, it doesn’t matter if she isn’t my mother! This isn’t right! That… that’s my dad over there! What’s happening?! What is going on, nooo!”

Before him stood the young Tereshia.

That figure did not overlap with the vision of his mother in Heinkel’s mind. He shook his head in disbelief, desperately attempting to deny the scene unfolding before his eyes.

His knees trembled, his gaze was unfocused, and he held his sword weakly.

Facing free and boundless sword saint, he could surely not hold his own.

At this rate, Heinkel was sure to be slain by Tereshia.

That must not happen.

“Tereshia! Over here! I’m still alive! If you must kill someone, kill me first! Heinkel, you can’t! Run away now!!”

Propelled by sheer will, Wilhelm struggled to rise, using his sword as a support. There wasn’t a moment to spare for his injured foot, and as he forced pressure on it, blood burst forth yet again.

The stones of the ground already drenched red with spilled blood, Wilhelm chased after Tereshia’s back, the blood trailing behind him.

So far away. Too far.

So slow. Too slow.

Once more, Wilhelm couldn’t make it. Once more, he couldn’t reach her.

“Hyah…!”

“————”

The longsword traced an arc and met Heinkel’s knightly sword that was lifted nervously in his shoulders.

There was no delay, the knightly sword was easily dislodged from Heinkel’s hand, bouncing across the cobblestones with a shrill sound.

“Stop… Please, stop! Mother, no…!”

Disarmed, terrified Heinkel fell to the ground in a daze. Desperately, he flailed his arms and legs, trying to crawl away.

However, his trembling fingers, quaking heart, and Tereshia’s emotionless gaze riveted his body in place, binding him by sheer terror.

His throat constricted, cold sweat trickled down, and he paled in fear.

Perhaps he even wet himself. But he didn’t even have the luxury of being ashamed, utterly robbed of composure, he was fixated on the sharp tip of the raised longsword.

—Suddenly, the straight sword ascended directly towards the sky as if to split the moon.

At the border of life and death, Wilhelm was about to witness the moment when his wife would kill their son.

He pressed his throat to shout. It couldn’t reach.

He extended his hand. It couldn’t reach.

“Tereshia—!!”

The sword demon whose power couldn’t be imbued into the blade, his cries lacked strength.

The longsword was mercilessly swung down to end Heinkel’s life—

“—That’s far enough.”

That voice suddenly pierced through the sharp tension, yet it was unmistakable.

With a clear, resolute tone that bore no trace of hesitation or mercy. It slammed an overwhelming presence upon all who heard it, embodying a naturally authoritative force.

Wilhelm, Heinkel, and even Tereshia froze in place.

Every eye turned to a lone young man standing there.

With fiery red hair like blazing flames and azure eyes captured by a crystal-clear and shining sky.

Dressed in white attire stained with blood and mud, his imposing stature needed no worded embellishments beyond that.

The young man slowly walked forward.

In his hand was a sheathed sword with deep scars carved into it, and a knightly sword drawn from that sheath.

What he wielded was the dragon-imbued sword, Reid.

—It felt like the sword god’s laughter echoed loud and clear in the ears of the sword demon.

 

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