There was a long, long way to go. The road was twisting and turning, no longer even a beastly path. At times, there was even a rupture, but the path was still there.

　I walked blindly and faintly along the way. I'm amazed at myself. If this were some kind of performance, there would be no audience, not even any performers.

　My throat has dried up, my limbs are exhausted and worn out. And now, I'm certainly at the end of the road.

　--Five seconds passed. Five seconds had passed, and my surroundings had lost the noisiness typical of a battlefield, and there was only silence, as if time had stopped.

　The sensation in my left shoulder, and indeed the entire left half of my body, became dull, as if numb. As if the blood had crawled out of his body in search of freedom, it splattered all around him and stained the sky. My nose, no longer effective in the battlefield, twitched.

　The eyelids on both sides twitched open, exposing the hard eyes to the air. The air that had built up in the depths of his lungs leaked out of his lips in a single breath. Instantly, there was a pain that ran down my entire left arm.

　On my left shoulder, the black sword of Richard Permiris gleamed as it tore through the flesh. An unstoppable wave of blood spurted up from my shoulder like a raging river. It was as if the dead were screaming their last breaths. It's so bad, I can't even accept it as my own. But this must be a better outcome.

　Normally... The blow from the black sword should have eaten my heart. It would have easily snapped my shoulder bones and torn through half of my body as if there was no muscular resistance.

　Richard permillis. My vicious master. I'm sure he could have done that in a breath of fresh air. So there was a reason it couldn't be done, a reason why it couldn't be done.

　In the midst of a reddish-black field of vision, a purple light shone as if to show off his own figure.

　In the distance, the sword with the inscription, "Treasure Sword, Hero Killer," was ripping through Richard Permiris' intestines. It looked as if it was going to cut through his left side itself.

　A clot of blood fell from Richard-Permiris's side with a sickening thud, thud, thud. His eyes narrowed.

"First time the sword reached you, old man. It was a long way off. It's a hell of a detour.

　He said, spitting out a pool of blood in his mouth. Strangely enough, even though his left shoulder was chopped up, he could still move. There was no loss of strength in my limbs. In fact, I felt more alive than ever.

　In front of me, a face with deep wrinkles is distorted. The lips, which must have aged appropriately, slowly opened.

The curse of the elves and the magic of the demons. You've taken a fool's path.

　As if to spit, Richard Permiris said. I don't know what he was referring to. But I could at least guess to some extent.

　Normally, the human body, no matter how much will you put into it, no matter how hard you exert yourself, if you are hit with a hard blow that threatens your life, your body will stiffen on the spot.

　If you have sworn with your life that you will use your sword to slice through your enemy, but the blade is embedded in your own body, your hands will go numb, your thoughts and will will will be blown away, and you will naturally be unable to attack.

　In fact, Richard Permiris's blow, which was supposed to cut out my heart, ended up hurting my shoulder at most because I caught the slash of the treasure sword in my stomach.

　And yet... I took a hard hit from the black sword on my left shoulder and still managed to swing it at Richard-Permiris. I was able to swing it away. In addition, the left hand, which would normally lose its power, is still gripping the hilt of the sword with great strength.

　Obviously, something is wrong. There was a hint that the logic of the world had slipped badly.

　If this is the curse of the elves, if this is the magic of the demons, then it may indeed be so. You can't tell me that I don't know anything about this myself.

　I hardened my eyes, felt the blood dripping from my lips, and forced my body to move. I pulled out my treasured sword. I felt a squishy, unpleasant sensation spread through my hand. At the same time, Richard Permiris also took the black sword from my left shoulder.

　The blood of both men splattered again, staining the earth. Before my eyes, my wrinkled lips twisted and moaned.

　There was a strange silence around them. There was a hint of spitting and blinking in the eyes of both the Daishonin and the heraldic soldiers.

I owe you. I'll let you die easy.

　With a stream of blood pouring from his left shoulder, he raised his sword with his right hand and said.

　I'm sure Richard-Permiris doesn't have the strength to wield the Kuro Sword anymore. No matter how strong his body is, he is still an old man. Just wielding the sword on the battlefield would have depleted his strength.

　And he ripped his stomach open. The more effort he puts into it, the more pain he will feel. It can't even move on its own. So all you have to do is strike it on the head with your treasured sword and everything will be over.

　However, the cunning old man did not show any sign of exhaustion and said with a sly smile.

"Why are you, him, and everyone else who works for me all idiots? There is no aesthetic at all.

　He said these words as if he was spitting them out while holding his stomach with his hand. For a moment, my eyelids contorted as I thought about the implications of those words.



　The next moment. A barbaric voice that had been lost in the surroundings roared from the enemy's main camp. The unmistakable signal for a mass of soldiers to begin their assault. It was the very pulse of military existence. And the voice was strangely full of life. A new soldier must have raised his spear on the battlefield.

　A new soldier being born at this moment in time can't be the main army.

　They are ambushers. I don't know who is in command of the Daishonin's army at this moment, but that someone has chosen to make the ambushers face up. Perhaps the purpose is to save the day for Richard Permiris.

　But that's ridiculous. I don't see how that's possible.

　The battle between me and Richard-Permiris must have been instantaneous. I don't think there are many people who can not only perceive the situation instantly, but also make the kind of decision that would allow them to immediately send in the ambushers.

　Is there anyone other than the old general in front of him who can handle his troops in such a way? To be honest, it would be better to think that there was a person who threw in the ambush by accident.

　It was probably in response to the voice of the ambush. The soldiers around me, who had been gulping down their breaths at the momentary attack between me and Richard Permiris, regained time.

　But for now, the entire army is still reeling from the wounding of their general. Once again, their backs were weakening. I have served my purpose. Now we can join up with the main army.

　He narrowed his eyes at his master, who was still bent over with the black sword in his hand. He turned his thoughts around in his head for a moment, twisted his lips, and said.

I think I've won this time, old man.

　He speaks to her as if they were in a tavern. I could hear his voice strangely passing through the battlefield.

"I'll give you that, you little shit.

　He said. Richard, the old man, threw me a drink from his hip, even though it must have hurt. He responds with a slight lift of his shoulder, his voice echoing.

　--We've served our purpose. We'll rendezvous with the main army. We'll survive.