Former Sword Emperor
I came to this realm of liminality shortly after ceding the Sword Emperor's throne to my son.
In battle against the Demon Clan, I remained always at the front lines, yet I could not find meaning in combat.
Why do the Human Clan and Demon Clan continue to fight?
There is no answer to that question.
With time spent pondering questions without answers, I swung my blade to kill enemies.
Yet one of my disciples became a Hero, traveled alone into Demon territory, and the Demon Clan ceased their attacks.
He, too, was a man who had lost meaning in battle, just as I had.
And though I do not know how, he managed, at least temporarily, to halt the war.
Only a very small number of humans, including myself, knew of his journey into Demon territory.
Thus, many harbored distrust toward the suddenly subdued Demon Clan.
Some voices urged taking advantage of the moment to launch an offensive.
Yet I wished to gamble on him.
To end the history of perpetual conflict between humans and demons.
But I would not witness the outcome.
I had confidence in my swordsmanship, but politics were not my strength.
With warfare ceasing, civil officials grew in influence over military officers. Men like me, whose only skill was wielding a blade, became increasingly unnecessary.
Fortunately, my son, though unskilled with the sword, possessed a capable mind.
It seemed preferable that the future of the empire be entrusted to my son rather than to an antique relic like myself remaining on the throne.
Upon making this decision, a sudden sense of relief settled upon me.
I had not realized until now that the burden of being Sword Emperor had been weighing heavily on me all along.
After yielding the throne to my son and retiring, the question that had lacked space for consideration until now grew within me.
Must humans and demons continue to fight?
That thought did not seem inevitable.
Indeed, extremist factions existed within the empire, yet overall sentiment leaned toward aversion to war.
Prolonged conflict had inflicted significant damage upon the empire, casting a shadow over the entire nation.
Demons likely faced a similar situation.
That was why they had withdrawn.
A shared mode of thinking between humans and demons became apparent.
If both sides held similar views, separation was not inevitable.
I concluded as such.
And then, I was discovered by that individual and invited to this realm between worlds.
There, the scene unfolded exactly as I had envisioned.
Humans and demons lived side by side without distinction, without shedding blood, without raising weapons.
I shed tears and resolved to spend my remaining years here.
It would have been ideal to pass away peacefully, in time, without disruption.
I drew my beloved sword.
In this peaceful nation, I had never relinquished my beloved blade.
On the contrary, I maintained daily training without fail and kept it in proper condition.
I had not anticipated this outcome.
Yet I could not bring myself to abandon the sword—my other half.
I yearned for peace while wielding weapons.
This contradiction persisted.
Ironically, it would prove useful.
I moved in the opposite direction from the fleeing crowd.
The opponent’s form was already visible.
A massive body, far exceeding human height.
An ogre. A evolved variant.
Given its size, likely a high ogre.
Yet the pressure emanating from it surpassed that of the ogre king fought before.
The presence was beyond human reach—something akin to that of a dragon species.
Still, I advanced my foot toward the ogre.
Even if I stepped back, I remain former Sword Emperor.
And Sword God.
One who has mastered the blade.
Status disadvantage does not decide battle.
I will teach that to this enraged ogre’s body.
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First layer of the Demon Mountains.
There, the Ice Dragon had reunited with its master.
Having barely escaped the ogre, it had contacted its master.
The master, upon receiving the message, instantly transferred to the Ice Dragon’s location.
The man listened to the Ice Dragon’s report, offered words of comfort and healing, then vanished through teleportation, saying he would move ahead.
The Ice Dragon, unable to teleport, flies back.
It arrives at the location and finds its master, who should have moved ahead, absent.
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The Ice Dragon’s master, Black, realizes the spatial translocation has failed.
The interdimensional movement, normally instantaneous, remains unresolved.
A darkness like the abyss engulfs Black entirely.
Black considers.
The space during teleportation was interfered with, trapping Black in an alternate dimension.
This is the current state.
Yet Black is the strongest being in this world.
No entity should be able to interfere with Black’s teleportation.
Yet Black is trapped.
The possibility of external divine intrusion is unlikely.
The system is set to detect such interference with high sensitivity.
Only a handful of high-tier deities, capable of infiltrating this world without triggering D’s system, should exist.
And if such a high-tier deity were present, it would be far easier to erase Black than merely confine them.
Black considers two possibilities.
First: interference by D.
Second: interference by a novice deity who recently ascended.
Either is neither impossible nor certain.
D’s actions remain unreadable to Black.
Even after consistently refraining from interference, a sudden intervention cannot be ruled out.
A novice deity lacks the capability to obstruct Black’s transfer.
Divine abilities are not mastered overnight.
Yet that novice ascended to divinity in a remarkably short time.
Given that rate of growth, such an outcome becomes conceivable.
Either way, the situation remains troublesome.
Black attempts to escape from the alternate dimension.
At that moment, darkness is stained white.
An overwhelming number of white spiders fill the field of view—so many they appear to engulf Black’s body.
The opponent is identified at that instant.
“What are you trying to do, Shiro?”
Black parts the wave of white spiders and shouts in anger.
No reply comes.