Without a word, I charged forward and swung my sword in a horizontal slash.
She met my strike with her own blade, deflecting it upward in a scooping motion.
With a high-pitched metallic ring, sparks flew in multiple layers.
My full-power strike, once again, cut nothing but empty air.
"You've copied that perfectly. Impressive," she said, then accelerated, executing a thrust from a stepping motion.
For the blow aimed at my forehead, I barely managed to bring my sword back in time.
Leaping backward to defend, I was sent flying by the impact.
Landing, I glanced at my sword.
A large crack had run through the spot where the thrust had struck.
It was quite hard, but it seemed meaningless before the hero's sword.
I poured miasma into it to repair the damaged section.
(...This is bad.)
Some time had passed since the fight began.
I had no choice but to acknowledge my disadvantage.
The previous hero was overwhelmingly strong.
I often couldn't keep up with the sheer speed of her sword.
I was barely managing to defend, let alone mount any effective counterattack.
There was no room to even think about using magic.
If I diverted my attention there at all, my swordsmanship would suffer even more.
Under normal circumstances, the margin of error would be negligible, but in a battle against her, that difference becomes fatal.
I was repeatedly on the verge of being slashed.
Even when I tried to create distance, she wouldn't allow it.
She constantly closed in to sword range, preventing me from establishing a favorable striking distance.
The moment she sensed me activating a teleportation spell, she would either disrupt it or charge toward my destination.
Even when I managed to escape into the air and unleashed a barrage of magic, she deflected every single strike with her blade.
She grew stronger with every swing.
The more power I exerted, the greater her strength became.
She was the very embodiment of an irrational justice.
A being harboring the will of the world was no hollow title.
(There’s no opening. What should I do?)
I questioned myself while watching for her next move.
Throughout, I kept my sword ready, prepared to cast spells at any moment.
I pushed my concentration beyond its limits to maintain both.
"If you won't come, then I will."
With those words, she closed the distance to my position in an instant.
It seemed like teleportation, but in reality, she had simply dashed forward at incredible speed.
A pure, high-speed approach born from physical prowess alone.
Crouched low to the ground, she raised her sword to strike.
Dodging was no longer possible.
Realizing this, I activated a defensive forbidden spell.
The nascent barrier of thorns, however, was shredded like paper.
Struck before it could fully form, it couldn't manifest its true durability.
This was a phenomenon that defied common sense.
The slash that cleaved the barrier of thorns shot upward, targeting me.
Slipping my sword into the gap by a hair's breadth, I managed to block it.
The sheer force made my sword groan in protest.
New cracks spiderwebbed across the blade; it was moments from snapping in two.
Sensing this stalemate would last but an instant, I released the miasma from my body like a cloud.
Facing her unorthodox, close-range technique, she knocked my sword aside.
Then, she slashed the miasma away to nothing.
"What—"
My surprise lasted only a heartbeat before a relentless flurry of strikes descended.
With utter ruthlessness, she pressed her assault.
I was rendered speechless.