The Purple Electric Sword wriggles as it cuts through the darkness. It's too late for this. As if to say so.

　Sacrificing his left arm, his wielder, Lugis, reached for the neck of the person who called himself Kalia. But alas, it was not only a cut above the current Lord, but many more. It is not a simple existence that can be won by sacrifice alone. He must be a hero, too.

　If we go with the flow, the Lord will lose his left arm and will be defeated at the same time. As if this was a planned future, the gods would confront the Lord with his fate.

　The Treasure Sword has no ego except for its original function. It is asleep except when it is playing the role it is supposed to play.

　However, at this moment, he was aware that a small amount of anger was opening his eyes.

　It was not anyone else, of course, but the current wielder, his master Lugis. What the hell is my wielder doing?

　This body is no mere sword. It is the fruit of a power that has passed through the hands of many heroes and grown brighter with each passing moment. The heroes of the past have all wielded their power to change the face of the world.

　And yet...

　This master uses himself as if he were nothing more than a sword. Even if I gave him some guidance, his instincts would strongly repel it. It would vanish into thin air without even thinking about it.

　The Lord's instinct speaks. It's never your own power. What pleasure is it to reach for borrowed power? It's such a stubborn mentality that makes our interference irrelevant.

　That's still fine. It's the Lord's choice. It's the owner's choice what to do with this body. There's no need to interfere. So while the sword will be annoyed by your choice, it will endure. I'll keep my mouth shut. There is, however, one thing I resent even more.

　It is that my lord is called mediocre. And that even he has accepted it.

　What do you mean? You're not mediocre. If you're going to call him that, call him that after you've seen everything about him. Know his past, know all that has led up to this point.

　I know the way he treads through thorns as if they were laid out for him, and the way he lives his life with nothing to rely on. To others, it must be a foolish way to live. It must be a foolish way to live.

　Be that as it may, your master is a hero. Every man who ever lived was one. And now you are one of those heroes.

　But his body is still separated from his spirit and he has not yet walked the path to heroism. If he continues as he is now, he will scar his body and spirit again. A great wound that can no longer be undone. I don't know why, but I can't accept that.

　When he reached that point, the sword suddenly understood. A choice that would never have occurred to him naturally shook his blade.

　Why does the Lord not accept his power? Because this body is nothing more than a weapon, a foreign object to him, so to speak. That's why he says his power is unacceptable. Everything is just a borrowed power. His warped mentality makes it so.

　Then you should become one with him.

　It's possible. After all, you were once one with him. It used to be the very blood flowing in him, the flesh that made him up, the bones that supported him.

　Naturally, this body could become his flesh and blood. Then it could become power itself. But that would mean an irreversible assimilation. I can no longer be just a blade. I will be the master and the master will be me. The purple light flickered for a moment.

　Well, that's okay, too. Weapons are meant to serve the Lord. A weapon is meant to serve the Lord. Then there's nothing wrong with this choice.

　Of course, the gods who brought you into this world in ancient times will be furious as if you were throwing a tantrum.

　They may think they are gods, but their beginnings are not so different from those of humans. In fact, they're a bunch of egos now. It would be much better to take the hand of man than to side with it. It's not my job to follow the gods' script.

　--Now, there's nothing to resist. I'll give you what you want. I am the crown jewel of heroes. If your fingers can't reach me, I'll be the rest.


　◇ ◇ ◇ ◇


　The blood splatter swayed in the sky as if it had a will of its own, making its body dance in the dark night.

　There was a strange sensation and a strange feeling. I've felt this before, once. I had felt it once before, in a duel with that sun-like hero, Held Stanley. That feeling where the impossible becomes possible and the impossible becomes possible. There is a glint of purple light behind her eyes. As if to show its will.



　What the hell is this? My body is trying to draw a trajectory I don't know anything about. It's trying to make a leap I didn't know it could make. It's crazy. I don't remember ever seeing this kind of body drive before, even though I've been searching from one end of my head to the other. But stranger still. It's just so familiar to me.

　A flash of purple light. The tip of the blade cut through the sky like a will. A strange, very strange feeling. The flash, the movement of my body, it didn't seem like it came from me. My eyes fluttered in astonishment.

　But the depths of my heart insist that I know the trajectory and movement. It makes me understand that it is naturally in my body now.

　I could feel Kalia's silver sword ripping through my flesh. In the blink of an eye, it would cut through bone and close in on my neck. Surely, I couldn't fight it. Even if I had sacrificed my left arm, I can be sure now that the blade of the sword would not have been able to reach even the skin of Kalia's neck. That was supposed to be the natural order of things.

　But now, that logic is about to disappear.

　The purple light is ripping through the night. Faster, faster than anything. Faster than Kalia's sword to my neck. Like a bolt of lightning.

　A sound, I heard it. No, I don't know if it was really a sound. Did I hear it with my ears in the first place, or did I perceive it with a completely different organ? I'm not even sure about that. Oh, but there was a definite sound. The sound that put an end to all this.

　--Oh, come on, you can do this. Rougis.

　I felt a voice reach my ears.

　A glint of purple lightning pierced Kalia's neck. If she moved even slightly, blood would spurt from her white neck. Kalia's silver sword tore at the flesh of my left arm, but did not sever the bone.

　Even I couldn't figure out what had happened. When I started to swing my sword, I was sure that the tip of it would not reach Caria. But now, as if the laws of this world were reversed, I've put my finger on her thin neck.

　I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I don't even know what this means. But I felt that the blade that had once been embedded deep in my gut had slipped away.

　My lips naturally rippled as I spun the words. My body began to tell my brain about the pain running through my body.

I'm so tired. Let's go get a good meal when we get back, Caria.

"You're an idiot. Choose your words when you ask me out. Something with atmosphere.

　Kalia's silver eyes wavered and a smile broke out on her cheeks.

　I raised my eyebrows and smiled back, then leaned a little closer to Kalia. Her legs were wobbly and she wouldn't listen to me. Just like with Garoua Maria, this is what happens every time I go out with Kalia. It's just too much.

　Yeah, but it's not a bad feeling.

　And then, as if in response to the body's call, her eyelids fluttered shut. My eyes were shaking, as if in convulsions. Your gaze turns to the sky.

　Right in front of you. At the end of the street, from the direction of the lord's mansion, I could see a torrent of magic power rising up.