Sword God vs. Ogre
Dodging and deflecting the two blades swung by the Ogre.
A direct clash would shatter my sword.
Each strike carried force sufficient to break it.
No, every attack carried the lethal potency to end my life.
I had sensed this from the moment I perceived my stats were inferior—had prepared accordingly. Yet this was underestimated.
"GAAARRR!"
The Ogre roars.
A scream, condensed into a physical wave of sound, strikes me.
Pain lances through the ears. A shock, as if struck by a fist, passes through the body.
A roar—no skill, no ability—this powerful?
The Ogre swings his blades, crushing the ground beneath.
I retreat sharply, sidestepping with exaggerated motion.
The distance I retreated with full effort, the Ogre crosses in a single step. It catches the line where I had stood moments before.
On the extension of the blade’s arc, a purple lightning flickered.
A magic sword, after all.
And a notably powerful one at that.
This ogre, its movements appear chaotic—but its combat style is not mere brute force.
The use of the magic sword is clear proof.
It seems to have lost all reason, yet still deploys combat techniques at an instinctive level.
An exceedingly inconvenient entity.
At least if it were simply raging with raw strength, there might be a way to counter it.
Dodging through the violent flurry, a single strike lands on the ogre’s body.
Shallow.
And hard.
The sensation reaching the hand is not that of flesh being severed, but of the blade being deflected by something rigid.
Not even skin cuts.
The outcome is decided.
It seems I have reached my limit here.
No matter how refined the technique, if the attack cannot penetrate, victory is impossible.
Perhaps a strike to the eyes or throat could inflict injury, but not a fatal wound.
In contrast, the ogre’s attack will end my life in a single blow.
My attacks will not reduce the ogre’s HP before it strikes me.
Therefore, there is only one course.
Buy time for as many residents as possible to escape.
Abandon offense.
Channel everything I have cultivated over my lifetime into defense.
How long has passed?
Felt like an instant. Felt like eternity.
The ogre was the final and strongest opponent I have ever faced.
And likely the longest battle I have ever fought.
How many times the sun has risen and set.
By the time he had eliminated all unnecessary thoughts, he no longer registered such things.
The more he focused, the more his consciousness seemed to dissolve.
Releasing will, converting that emptiness into pure combat concentration.
The self known as "I" ceased to exist—became merely a body, existing for no purpose but to fight.
Never expected, at this age, to reach the ultimate peak of swordsmanship.
The experience of cleaving lightning—ideally, he would have passed it on to a disciple.
Though he doubted any disciple could replicate it.
Ah. But the end is in sight.
This very act of thinking proves it.
Concentrated to the extreme, thought itself abandoned—yet that state is beginning to fracture.
Cause: physical limits.
Every attack from the ogre had been parried.
But the prolonged battle had exceeded his body’s endurance.
Each movement brought the sensation of muscles tearing, bones cracking.
Each breath brought the taste of blood spreading through the mouth. Vision blurred—half the world invisible.
That he had not fallen was a miracle.
That miracle ends here.
No further movement possible.
Yet the sword remains raised.
My final dignity.
The ogre did not strike. The motionless man stood still.
"Old man. I shall learn your name."
Hmph.
Thought he was an irrational beast. Yet he speaks.
Indeed, the sword’s motion grew precise midway through.
Regained reason during battle?
The cause of lost reason remains unknown. But to return to clarity through combat.
A reversal I have witnessed countless times.
"Blade God. Rager van Lengzand."
A voice strained, yet clear. Delivered with certainty.
"Blade God. That name carries weight. I should have been overwhelmingly stronger. Yet I could not land a single blow. I never expected that fury would restore clarity. No—clarity is not the issue. I am consumed by rage. I want to kill. I want to kill. I am on the verge of madness. My consciousness has returned, but I am far from sane."
The latter half was likely mere muttering.
The figure stood defenseless.
Yet no force remained to strike at it.
"Blade God. Rager van Lengzand. I will not forget your name. And I will end you as a warrior, out of respect."
The ogre vanished.
Even if my sight had remained, I could not have reacted.
The slash had been sharpened to perfection.
"Perfect."
My body splits in two—sword and all.
Not only had I reached the ultimate principle of the sword in this battle.
The strike had been imperfect, yet it carried the faintest trace of what it meant to be perfect.
"You, too, were magnificent."
At the moment consciousness faded, those words reached me last.
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Black had crushed every white spider that swarmed toward it.
Exited the otherworldly space.
From Black’s perspective, approximately ten days had passed.
Upon exiting the otherworldly space, however, Black perceived a discrepancy in the flow of time between the outside world and the space it had just left.
"Time, too, can be manipulated within space."
Black muttered bitterly.
The saboteur never revealed their true form directly.
Only sent forth a swarm of white spiders—akin to avatars.
Yet even these spiders were not to be underestimated.
Not a life-threatening situation, but this was the first time the system had seen Black so depleted since its construction.
Black hurried across the Demon Mountains.
Heading toward the nation of the rift.
But that nation no longer existed.
Years had passed outside since Black had been sealed.