There was a sound of iron and steel eating each other and grinding down their bodies. One by one, the sounds piled up, and snatched my ears as if they were exploding. It continued again and again, with such force that it seemed as if there was no time to breathe.

　The Great Temple of Flimsulat, the hallowed sanctuary.

　In its innermost sanctum, a majestic gold and a glorious evil were battling with each other, wielding their blades to extinguish each other's life. As if to say that everything is settled here.

　The white blade twists its body in Heldt-Stanley's eyes. A spark exploded in the air.

　Once, in his birthplace, he had been cut in two by the great evil before him, and the gleam had spilled out. The blade, melted down and cast again, has become a much lighter item than it once was.

　There are no details to decorate it, and the inscription on the blade has disappeared. It is too simple to be owned by the famous Stanley family.

　An unmarked sword that has neither the support of magic nor the favor of the gods. That is the only white blade that Heldt-Stanley now wields.

　--But to the bottomless genius that is Heldt Stanley, that must be the supreme.

　The sword does not need any extra decorations or colors, just ruthless power.

　For Heldt, it is an undeniable certainty and something to be desired. It is only by crushing and shaving off everything that surrounds you that the genius of Herdt is revealed. Each swing of the blade has the brilliance to prove it.

　But even with his talent, this duel has not yet come to an end.

　His golden head of hair bounced in the air and was shaved slightly. If he slacks off even a drop, he'll end up just like that.

　I'm not sure what to make of it. The eyes are sharp, as if glaring at everything, and the atmosphere they create is undeniably intimidating.

　His behavior and martial arts are incomparable to that night. Every swing of his blade, every step he takes, everything about him has shed its shell.

　This is proof that he has gone through all kinds of hardships and heart-thumping experiences to get to where he is today. And it must have all been done by his own will. The only thing that truly makes a man strong is himself, in every age.

　Oh, yes. He's grown so strong. Dazzlingly so. But that's no reason to retreat.

　In contrast, Heldt lets the fingers of his hands clench tightly, a fiery glow in his golden eyes. Everything from that day to today has been for this moment alone. That's why I'm standing here now.

　Heldt has only one goal. It's nothing. I just want to understand, to nod my head in agreement that this is right.

　That day, that night, he lost sight of all that. What is right, what is good. And which side he was on. It's like he doesn't know anymore.

　He remembers well how it felt as if everything that he had leaned on so steadfastly had disappeared before he knew it.

　What is right? Then what is right and wrong? What was it that he believed in?

　The Daishonians around him called Lugis a great evil, and the heraldry called him a hero. It was as if they were referring to different people.

　In the end, Heldt didn't know which side Lugis, or even himself, was on. And even if he thought about it, he didn't think he would get an answer.

　Perhaps good or evil is just a pendulum that swings as one pleases, and perhaps it is a mistake to think that there is such a thing as justice in this world.

　Perhaps it is a mistake to think that there is such a thing as justice in this world. Herdt thought that the way things should be is to serve the priests of the High Holy Church who talk about justice and goodness with a knowing face.

　But even so, Heldt was no longer pure or wise enough to throw away all his thoughts and drink down the words given to him by those around him without seeking answers. Since that day, that night.

　--That's why I'm here today, to seek answers. If you don't get past him, you'll never get it.

　That's the one certainty Heldt has. There is something beyond Lugis, and what you get before that is meaningless. Only one thing is necessary.

　What was now driving the majestic sunshine was no longer the will of God or justice as it had been in the past.

　Only the great will that crouched in his heart was breathing to start again. There was nothing else to think about or contemplate.

　Besides... At this moment, Heldt could not think about anything.

　Therefore, there was only one thing to do. Lugis-Vliriganth was in front of him as an enemy. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


　I'm not sure what to say.


　I'm not sure what to make of this. It was a very nostalgic feeling, he thought. His eyelids flickered slightly.

　In the past, I thought many times that I would lose my eyesight at the sight of them.

　The way he stands out even among the undeniable heroes. The way he acted so majestically, as if he were depicting a knight's tale. So noble, so perfect.

　The embodiment of justice, the one who has been given the will of God. That's who Heldt Stanley was. Respect was always due him, all the glitter was there.

　On the other hand, I'm an abandoned child, a shadow. I couldn't even be burned by that sunshine, and only saw the hero in my eyes. And so, in the end, there was nothing to be gained in my hands, and I could not become anything.



　It was supposed to be the end. The curtain was supposed to be pulled back and my meaningless life was supposed to be over. Until, for whatever reason, that shadow came for me.

　--But even if everything had ended then, I would have continued to watch the back of the hero like the sun in the depths of my heart and guts until the very end.

　I slid my treasured sword into the air and let the purple light run. The distance between them was enough, and the trajectory drawn in his field of vision would cut through Heldt's torso without the slightest error.

　Without a single doubt, I traced the line with all the strength I had in my hands. There was a sensation in his hands that split the air.

　At the same time, the sound of the blade kicking the sky echoed in my ears. At the same time, I heard the sound of a blade kicking the sky. It was designed to devour my blade and then slash at my neck in its path.

　My cheeks twisted and shook.

　As usual, the reaction speed and body movements are so fast that it seems as if you've stopped being human. Whenever I wield the purple light, the white blade always sits at the end of it, as if to say that I've seen through it.

　Unintentionally, my eyes narrowed.

　I had a premonition. If I continue to run the blade, it will definitely be cut off by the white blade, and I will be decapitated. I would spit out blood, splatter brain plasma, and die without a doubt. The back of my eyes are hot and heavy.

　Reflexively, I thrust my outstretched leg out another step longer, closing the gap. I switch the target of my blade from the enemy's torso to his wrist.

　I didn't think of anything. I just followed a hunch in my skull. After all, my brain is melted by the heat, my thoughts have lost their meaning, and my sanity is long gone. I don't have even a shred of time to think about anything.

　So all that existed in my gut was the thought that if I retreated, I would die there. For that reason alone, I took the first step.

　As he swung, the treasured sword drew a straight purple line and cut through the sky. At the same time, I saw Herdt forcibly twist his wrist and wriggle the white as if to pierce me.

　--The sound of iron overlapping and exploding. At the same time, something like a burning smell hit my nostrils. The purple light and white overlapped each other again.

　A moment after the collision, both arms screamed as if they had been kidnapped, conveying the enemy's brute force to the brain. At the same time, his spine was sobbing and his legs were screaming. I bit my teeth and forcibly suppressed them all. What, it's always been like this since a while ago. A scream or two won't do you any good now.

　Looking ahead, Heldt's eyes lit up with a ferocity I had never seen before. There was even a hideous ferocity to it.

　Perhaps this is a part of the essence of the human being that is Heldt-Stanley. An explosive, violent nature that in the past was stifled by great justice.

　It's not heroic, it's not graceful. It was not heroic, it was not graceful, it was a human, violent impulse. And now it's revealed itself to me as if it had lost its shackles.

　Oh, great. Definitely the best. After all, this was Heldt-Stanley's undeniable best. That's why it's worth defeating and overcoming.

　To say goodbye to the abominable sludge past, and so overcome it. I must overcome the hero I admire head on. If I don't, I'll never move forward. I think that's why I'm here.

　At any rate, how can I stand next to these extraordinary heroes with my past still beating down on me? How could I possibly be qualified to take Alueno's hand? To take the hand of my beloved, I must be worthy of it.

　Don't let it fall from my hand again.

　Shiden and Shiro. There was a moment of pause as they clipped each other's blades. And then, without saying a word, they swept their blades down and held them again. I gasped for breath. His lungs convulsed his body.

　No more words were needed. For this moment, standing there, ready for each other, was all the world needed, and this was the center of the world.

　I knew it, and I'm sure Heldt knew it, too.

　--The next swing would end this moment of ecstasy.