◆◆◆
Azel suddenly kicked off the ground, retreating several meters back.
His movement was clearly not an attack. It was a sign, he was preparing something.
And Ygdra could sense it. Whatever that “something” was, it was far from ordinary.
No one would move like that for a mere sword strike or a simple spell.
As proof, Azel hadn’t even touched the hilt of the longsword at his waist.
Instead, he raised his right hand high toward the heavens.
Ygdra exhaled slowly.
It had been a long time since he had seen a human who neither ran nor cowered, who chose instead to face him head-on. And just earlier, it had been Ygdra who hesitated between fleeing and fighting.
And yet now, this young man stood tall, ready to meet him in battle.
—Brave one, I shall slay you, devour your flesh and blood, and reclaim my pride!
Ygdra poured even more magic power into the breath he was about to unleash.
An all-out strike so powerful, it could wound even himself.
Azel, meanwhile, clenched his raised right hand into a fist and began to bring his arm down, as if to strike from above with a mighty blow.
But there was no sword in his hand.
The longsword remained sheathed at his waist, swaying slightly in the wind, with no sign he intended to draw it.
Ygdra hesitated for an instant,
Then caught the subtle motion of Azel’s lips, forming words.
・
・
・
「Fiat Lux, manifest!」
The moment those words were spoken, Azel’s right hand, or rather, the space just above his palm, began to gather shimmering particles of light.
Grains of sand and small pebbles around him started to tremble, and a ring-shaped glow of magic power rose up from beneath his feet.
—A holy sword!?
A sharp edge of wariness entered Ygdra’s gaze.
One who wields a holy sword, that could only mean…
—A Hero. I flee from a devil, only to encounter a Hero now?
But retreat was no longer an option for Ygdra.
A part of him even believed that if he could kill this Hero and consume his flesh and blood, he might stand a chance against that devil, Hein.
◆◆◆
What is light?
Some mages described it as “a kind of fire” or “the breath of the gods”, using poetic and often confusing metaphors.
But what Azel was invoking through his chant was unlike any of those things.
In the world before, Azel had wielded this power many times.
Of course, it came with a price.
Even so, he had determined this moment demanded its return.
Ygdra was simply that powerful a foe.
・
・
・
Ygdra experienced a strange distortion of vision.
A dazzling brilliance was condensing in Azel’s hand.
Then a beam of light extended skyward from Azel’s right hand.
◆◆◆
Ygdra involuntarily trembled.
His draconic instincts screamed.
Run.
You’ll be killed.
But now, it was too late,
A torrent of breath erupted from Ygdra’s jaws.
Thunder shattered the air.
And then, an even greater flash of blinding light.
He was swallowed whole by a searing beam of radiance.
**One strike of the Holy Sword.**
The blade of light cleaved through the heavens and the earth alike, slicing straight through both the oncoming breath and Ygdra himself.
A strategic weapon with energy surpassing 10,000 degrees Celsius, that was the true nature of the Holy Sword, ‘Fiat Lux’.
Ygdra instinctively channeled magic into his scales to defend himself, but even that was meaningless before the torrent of radiant heat.
In seconds, scales harder than steel melted away, his flesh and bone exposed and then incinerated without mercy.
His scream tore through the wasteland, a cry so horrific it could shatter the minds of those who heard it.
The scorched air erupted into a violent updraft, kicking up ash and sand in a howling, fiery gale.
The air itself trembled with sound, something between thunder and a tempest.
And so, before his brain could even process the pain, Ygdra’s consciousness was torn apart in fragments, and lost forever.
◆◆◆
On the scorched wasteland where battle had taken place, only black smoke and superheated dust remained.
Ygdra’s corpse no longer retained any recognizable form. What remained was no more than a melted mass.
Scraps of leathery wing membrane and fragments of liquefied scales were scattered within the charred remains, leaving not even a trace of the once-proud dragon warrior.
・
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・
「…Haa, haa…」
Azel gasped for breath, kneeling on one knee in the barren earth.
All color had drained from his face, his features visibly gaunt.
His lips were cracked, patches of skin dried out, and sweat poured from his hairline like a waterfall.
The holy sword demanded a steep price, not just magic power, but even the very essence of one’s life.
What Azel had lost in that single strike was far more than a year of his lifespan.
Perhaps five years. Perhaps ten.
Even breathing slowly caused a burning pain deep in his lungs.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his head swaying in a dizzy haze like he was suffocating.
Still, Azel grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet.
He couldn’t afford to collapse here.
There were still things he had to do.
「…Even so, why… Why was Ygdra here, like this…?」
He muttered in a hoarse voice, casting another glance at the decaying remains of the dragon.
In this battle, Azel had undoubtedly secured victory.
Yet something lingered uneasily in his chest.
Because in the original world, Azel and Ygdra were not meant to face each other until two years later.
Where had Ygdra been going, alone? What had he intended to do?
He had no answer.
This world looked much like the one before, but it was not the same.
Azel’s thoughts drifted, inevitably, to the one difference between the two worlds.
Hein.
—Hein… are you involved in this somehow?
A silent question.
Of course, there was no reply.
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