Before they knew it, Eris and the others had traveled a long way from the valley.
The instant the demon god moved, Gal Farion had bolted from the battlefield.
"This should be far enough."
"..."
Gal stopped in a somewhat open clearing deep within the forest.
It had taken roughly one minute.
But Gal's legs were fast, and they were now quite far from the valley.
Eris felt a flicker of unease at the growing distance between herself and Rudeus, but she quickly focused her attention on the enemy before her.
"That demon god goes on a rampage with no regard for friend or foe. Don't want any interruptions."
Gal said that and squared off against Eris once more.
"..."
However, he did not draw his sword.
It was as if he was saying that against someone like her, his bare hands would suffice.
Even from Eris's perspective, his stance was riddled with openings.
Eris, in contrast, held her beloved sword, the Houga Ryuuken, high above her head in a jodan stance.
But before her stood a former Sword God.
She hesitated, unsure whether she should exploit that opening or not.
"...You look like you're doing well."
That was unexpected.
Unexpectedly, Gal spoke.
No—Gal was human too. There was nothing strange about him speaking words.
But still, for this man to try to carry on a conversation with words rather than his sword in a situation like this—that, Eris found genuinely surprising.
"..."
Eris tilted her head, and Gal let out a short laugh.
"You remember Jino? Jino Blitz."
"...He was there, wasn't he? Not much of a presence."
At that answer, Gal laughed again.
"Yeah. Strong for his age, but not much of a presence, that guy."
Gal said that and looked up at the sky.
The wind swayed the trees, and she could hear the rustling of leaves brushing against each other.
There were no signs of birds or small animals.
Only the distant sounds of trees toppling and something exploding carried over to them.
The demon god, or perhaps the North God, still fighting somewhere.
Riding on those sounds, Gal's words drifted to her.
"He's the Sword God now."
"...Come again?"
"I gave him the Sword God seat."
Eris didn't understand the meaning of his words.
Sword God Gal Farion is not the Sword God.
Even if someone told her that, Eris simply couldn't wrap her head around it.
"That guy—what even is he? He up and decides he's going to marry Nina out of nowhere. And then when I told him he'd have to surpass me if he wanted to marry her... he actually got stronger."
Gal was thoroughly amused as he said this.
The corners of his mouth turned up, and he was grinning as he recalled those days.
"It was over in an instant. A sword that fast and heavy—back in my younger days, I might have managed it once or twice... no, he might have actually been beyond me."
Gal seemed to recall something, and he swung his hand through the air.
A hand-strike swung at a speed that could have generated a shockwave.
He started to bring it back, then stopped it perfectly still.
"And here I couldn't even land a second blow. I couldn't make sense of it."
He re-crossed his arms.
"I was the strongest from the moment I was born, so I wouldn't know, but I guess for ordinary people, there's always that moment. The moment you break through to the next level..."
He looked up at the sky once more and spoke.
No—he was muttering to himself that he probably wasn't the strongest anymore, anyway.
"Either way. He got everything he ever wanted. The woman he loved, the Sword God seat... In the Sword Sanctuary, everyone acknowledges him now. The era of Jino as Sword God isn't that far off."
Then Gal looked at Eris.
For the first time, he was looking her dead in the eye.
"And what about you?"
"...What about me?"
"You found yourself a man, and then you go wagging your tail at the Dragon God Orsted—the enemy."
Ha.
Gal Farion laughed, but there was no smile in it.
His face was contorted with rage as he glared at Eris.
"I entrusted it to you. The dream of defeating the Dragon God Orsted—of overthrowing that absolute being."
"Looking back on it now, it's laughable. Why the hell did I entrust that to someone like you?"
"You've completely lost your fangs. Ha—so much for the Mad Sword King. What's mad about you? You got a man, sure—third place, though? And you're satisfied with that?"
Words came flying out one after another.
But they didn't register with Eris.
So what? That was all she could think.
She couldn't care less.
She had no memory of having anything entrusted to her.
And so Eris answered.
"...You've gotten awfully sentimental."
The Sword God's pupils contracted sharply.
Killing intent condensed and surged down his arms.
"You're expelled."
"Don't care."
"I'll never let you call yourself Sword King again."
"Try and stop me."
Eris was already in fighting stance.
If anything, she found herself wondering why she'd indulged in this wordplay for so long.
"You think you can win?"
"Obviously. I'll send a small fry like you to the underworld in a single strike."
"Ha... That's the second time in my life someone's called me small fry."
Gal Farion took his stance.
He spread his legs, dropped his hips, placed his hand on the hilt, and set his stance as if concealing his blade.
A battōjutsu stance.
The lethal stance once favored by the legendary Sword King Ghislaine Dedoldia.
"..."
Eris clenched her back teeth at the sight.
The Sword God style was fundamentally a swordsmanship built around the fastest and heaviest cuts.
However, there were three stances.
The first was chūdan—the middle stance.
Capable of responding to any principle of the sword, it was the fundamental form of the Sword God style.
The second was jōdan—the upper stance.
An offensive stance for those who could break their opponent's principle and press the attack.
The last was iaigatana—the drawn stance.
A defensive stance for those who could read their opponent's principle and seize the optimal moment by instinct.
In other words:
Those who could read principle took the iaigatana.
Those who could break principle took the jōdan.
And those who specialized in neither took chūdan.
Eris, born with an innate sense of rhythm and the ability to aggressively disrupt her opponent's principle, was a specialist of the jōdan stance.
Ghislaine, with her beast-race senses of smell and hearing, her intuition and reflexes, was a specialist of the iaigatana stance.
"..."
Gal Farion had taken the iaigatana.
This former Sword God could fight from any stance.
But given the current situation, he had chosen iaigatana.
Knowing that, Eris nonetheless did not flinch.
Without a word, breathing in thin, controlled streams, she closed the distance little by little.
In that moment, Gal felt a sense of wrongness.
Eris was strangely calm.
Back when she'd been in the Sword Sanctuary, true to her name as "Mad Dog," she'd bared her fangs and charged in recklessly.
She wasn't charging.
But some things hadn't changed.
Her expression.
Eris was smiling.
A creeping, unsettling grin plastered across her face, yet she carried herself with the refined, almost monk-like composure of someone deep in training.
Looking at that expression made him want to strike first almost involuntarily.
But Gal had no intention of making the first move.
He simply stood with his back to a massive tree, waiting in a posture so still it was as if time had stopped.
"..."
"..."
It was an uncanny sight.
To anyone who knew them well, it would have looked utterly bizarre.
Both Eris and Gal were swordsmen who preferred to take the initiative.
There was no other way to rise to the top of the Sword God style.
Yet neither of them moved.
Only the leaves drifting down through the air like snow proved that time was still flowing normally.
But some who saw this scene would think it was the same as that day.
For instance, the person mentioned in their conversation—Jino Blitz.
He had seen it before.
A battle where the Sword God style entered a state of perfect stillness.
Yes—several years ago.
The day Eris became Sword King.
The fight between Eris Greyrat and Nina Farion.
Neither moved.
Or perhaps when two masters of the Sword God style faced off, this state of stillness was simply the norm.
No—they were moving.
Eris was closing the distance by the tiniest increments—the width of a fingertip, nothing more.
They were now at the razor's edge—separated by a single step.
Within Eris's striking range.
But the distance was still far.
Far from close enough for a killing blow.
To unleash the ultimate strike, she still needed just a little more.
"..."
In Eris's fight against Nina, the one who moved first lost.
Nina had unleashed a perfect "Light Flash," and Eris had surpassed it through sheer speed.
If it were Gal Farion—
If it were the man who had once been called Sword God—surpassing Eris's movement would have been trivial.
He could have deftly evaded her striking range and adjusted the angle so his blade arrived a fraction of a second earlier.
But he didn't.
Gal Farion held firm in his immovable stance.
He didn't close the distance or shift his angle.
He simply didn't move, his eyes locked on Eris.
As though nothing else in this world existed—watching only her.
Eventually, Eris stepped into killing range.
She reached the position from which she could unleash her most confident, most devastating slash.
"..."
A small, truly minuscule hesitation arose within Eris.
Gal Farion had no openings.
She was confident that if she unleashed the Light Flash right here and now, even a former Sword God would be cut down.
But her opponent was Gal Farion.
She recalled that day in the Sword Sanctuary—those moments of humiliation.
When she hadn't even been able to see it, and Gal Farion had swatted her aside.
"...!"
The next instant, Gal Farion moved.
He dropped his hips by just a few millimeters, and power flooded into the hand gripping his hilt.
As if drawn by it, Eris moved.
She moved.
From a perfect form into a single, devastating strike.
The Light Flash.
The world's supreme sword technique was unleashed.
But in that instant, Eris's eyes caught it.
Gal Farion's hand was gripping the hilt in a reverse grip.
It was not the Light Deflection.
But it was unquestionably the Light Flash.
A Light Flash unlike anything Eris had ever seen.
"Water God Style Secret Technique: Flow."
A slippery sensation lingered in Eris's hands.
The Light Flash, unleashed from its high stance, collided with Gal's godspeed blade and was deflected.
The great tree behind Gal was split diagonally in two.
At the instant the blades were about to separate, a slight pressure from Gal's wrist threw Eris's upper body off balance—just barely.
Eris was left overextended from her full follow-through.
That was enough.
In Gal's eyes, Eris's unprotected neck was reflected.
The counter-strike ran.
Perhaps the cost of using a secret technique from a school he was unaccustomed to, but the speed of that cut was not particularly fast.
The speed of that cut did not reach light.
At best—it reached sound.
A Silent Flash.
But at this distance, at this range—
To kill one person, there was no need for a Light Flash.
All that was needed was a single strike to sever the neck.
Like a guillotine, the blade descended.
A sharp sound rang out.
A sound that could be called a ring, or a clank—the clash of metal.
The blade had stopped. Pressed against Eris's neck, reaching for the artery—yet stopped.
Gal's eyes went wide.
Unbeknownst to him, a man had appeared behind Eris.
A warrior with green hair, holding a white ivory spear.
Standing as if sheltered behind Eris, he had caught Gal's blade like a guardian spirit.
If that had been a Light Flash...
The instant that thought flickered through Gal's mind—
"GAAAAHH!"
Twisting his body, Eris drew her sword from her right hip and swept it across Gal Farion's torso.
"...Ggh!"
Gal Farion leaped backward in desperation.
He landed with a thud behind him.
"..."
But when his feet touched the ground, his upper body was not there.
Gal Farion's upper body was flying through the air.
It tumbled three full rotations before hitting the ground.
---
Gal Farion watched his lower body slowly topple over.
He watched his own defeat.
"Ah, damn it..."
Lying on his back, Gal muttered.
He hadn't seen him.
The Spell-d族 warrior hidden behind Eris—he hadn't seen him.
No—he had seen him.
He had seen him, but he hadn't thought anything of it.
He'd figured it wouldn't matter whether someone like that was there or not.
The truth was, Ruijerd had not been able to read the Light Flash.
That impossibly fast blade—no matter how seasoned a warrior—could not be tracked.
But Gal's second strike was different.
That was no Light Flash.
It was a cut at the minimum speed and power necessary to simply sever a neck.
Against an ordinary warrior, Eris's head would have been split in two before they could even react.
But the one standing guard was Ruijerd.
A warrior who had lived for hundreds of years.
There was no way he couldn't see it.
There was no way he couldn't stop it.
Gal Farion had misjudged Ruijerd Spellia.
And he had misjudged Eris—the Eris who trusted Ruijerd and left her back to him.
If Eris had felt even the slightest hesitation—
If she had doubted, even for an instant, that Ruijerd would stop that blow—
Gal Farion's leap would have made it in time.
"Why didn't you use a Sword God style technique?"
Lying on his back, Gal was asked by Eris, blood still streaming from her neck.
Despite being only a brief exchange, sweat covered her forehead entirely.
"I figured I'd lose."
From the very first strike.
If Gal had taken the same high jōdan stance and unleashed the Light Flash at maximum speed, he would have won.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
What flashed through Gal Farion's mind was his memory of the fight with Jino Blitz.
His sword, which he had believed in without question.
His technique, which he had believed in without question.
The memory of how it had been broken so easily, and how he had been defeated.
The moment his left hand was fractured and he collapsed pathetically onto the dojo floor.
The stares of the onlookers.
Jino looking down at him.
That was what dulled his resolve to open with the Light Flash.
Gal Farion was a sword genius.
Though he bore the title of Sword God, he possessed the talent to climb to at least the level of Water Emperor if he pounded on the doors of the Water God style.
And so he used a Water God style technique.
He was confident it would win for certain. And there was also a sense of resignation.
Back when he still called himself Sword God, he would never have done something like that.
There had been a way a Sword God was supposed to carry himself.
There had been a sense of duty—the feeling that as the Sword God, he must use Sword God style techniques.
But not anymore.
There was no obstacle to using a Water God style technique to deflect the Light Flash in favor of the more certain path to victory.
And so he had used words to provoke Eris and seize the initiative.
Something he absolutely would not have done in the days when he was called the Sword God.
Come to think of it, following Geese's orders to cut off Rudeus's arm was also something he absolutely would not have done.
Perhaps the gears had been off from the very start.
The moment he lost to Jino Blitz, everything had gone wrong.
Gal Farion no longer had the confidence he once did.
Nor the strength he once had.
The strongest swordsman no longer existed.
"You were right—I was a sentimental little fish."
Gal offered no excuses.
The one who believed in their own technique won. The one who couldn't lost.
That was all there was to it.
And the words he'd spewed before this fight—how pathetic they were.
He should have just charged in and cut her down immediately instead of spouting lines like that.
In that regard, he really was small fry—to Eris, probably less than a tavern drunkard.
He'd let himself be swept along by the feeling that he had to fight Orsted, that he couldn't let things end like this, that he wanted to bloom one last flower. And with that, he'd gone along with Geese's offer. To think he'd once believed he could challenge Orsted like this.
Thinking about it now, he couldn't even muster a self-deprecating laugh.
"...What am I even doing?"
Eris looked down at him and thought.
How pathetic.
And a nameless sadness welled up within her.
So this was the end of someone she had once trembled before—someone she had feared, if only slightly.
And so she asked.
"...Do you have any last words?"
Gal looked up at Eris with only his eyes.
The red-haired woman.
From the first moment he'd seen her, he'd known she had talent.
Rough around the edges, but with more raw material than Ghislaine.
He'd never imagined she would be the one to kill him.
He'd always thought of her as someone beneath him.
He'd believed that if they fought, he would win every time.
"A sword swung only for oneself is pure, and a pure sword becomes sharper than anyone's.
People change. A sword swung for others is strong, but its edge is swayed by those others.
Once you hesitate, that hesitation haunts you. Your sword grows dull.
That's what happened to me.
I got a woman. Had a kid. Trained disciples. I started thinking about meaningless things like what a Sword God is supposed to do, and I went this dull."
Gal felt his words slipping away as his consciousness faded.
He had nothing to convey.
No words he desperately needed to leave behind.
He hadn't been pondering deathbed speeches beforehand.
He'd never imagined he would die somewhere like this.
But the thoughts that crossed his mind spilled from his lips.
"Eris.
You really are something, after all.
You didn't grow weak.
You look like you've been possessed, but you're free. You've stayed free."
A glob of blood welled up from Gal's mouth.
Without wiping it away, Gal held out the sword he had continued gripping to Eris.
"...I'll take it."
"I'll have it."
An act with no logical connection.
But Eris accepted it immediately.
Gal's hand, nearing death, was terrifyingly cold.
But the hilt was hot.
"Ha..."
Having witnessed it, Gal exhaled.
He no longer had the strength to even draw breath.
"It's nice... that those who live free are the strongest..."
His arm fell.
Sword God Gal Farion died.
"..."
Eris knelt in silence.
She pulled the scabbard from Gal's waist.
Then she sheathed the sword she had received and tucked it at her own hip.
"Phew..."
She let out a long breath and pulled a scroll from her pocket.
A beginner's healing magic scroll.
One she'd been given for emergencies and had kept on hand.
She pressed it against her still-bleeding neck and channeled her mana into it.
The wound healed in an instant.
"...Eris."
"Let's go. We need to support Rudeus."
"Right."
The two said that curtly and turned on their heels...
After a few steps, Eris stopped.
She turned back.
Taking in the grotesque remains of Gal Farion, Eris clenched her fist.
She chanted a spell.
The magic that Rudeus had told her long ago she should always remember, and that she had practiced over and over with Ghislaine.
"—Fireball."
The fireball launched from Eris's hands engulfed Gal Farion's corpse.
She did not watch Gal Farion's body burn to the end.
She turned and walked briskly away.
The flames spread to nearby trees, sending up smoke like a signal flare, continuing on... without anyone to stop them, until the fire died on its own.