Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 19 - Chapter 2

ACT 2

“Big brother!”

As Hveðrungr was making his way back to his tent, a voice called out to him from behind. It was one he had known intimately since his childhood. What stuck out to him the most wasn’t the fact that the voice was familiar, however. There was only one person in the world who would call him “big brother.”

“Hello, Big Sister Felicia. You seem to make this mistake quite often. As far as our Chalice oaths are concerned, you’re my elder,” Hveðrungr replied, politely correcting her as he turned to face her with a smile.

Felicia furrowed her brow in annoyance. She was aware that he was teasing her. “I know full well. It was but a slip of the tongue.”

“A slip, you say? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to correct you.”

“Oh, come on! Big bro...Grrr!” Just as she was about to address him as big brother once again, Felicia caught herself and let out a muffled groan of annoyance. She had called him that for nearly twenty years; such a long-held habit was hard to break. Felicia couldn’t help doing so. He was her biological older brother, so addressing him as such was a deeply ingrained behavior. It was difficult for her to change that.

“Heheh... So, what do you need? I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have a retreat to prepare for, after all.” If he truly was in a hurry, he probably shouldn’t have wasted his precious time teasing her, but that playful streak was part of his personality—he had been born with an innate cynical and sarcastic streak.

“I’m well aware. That aside, I have a message from Big Brother, which I shall quote directly: ‘If it’s necessary, I can lend you some soldiers. I may be overstepping, though.’”

“Oh, he certainly is.” Hveðrungr snorted with displeasure.

“Brother... Big Brother is simply concerned with your safety. You shouldn’t...”

“I wouldn’t mind it from anyone else, but I won’t take that sort of help from him,” Hveðrungr replied curtly.

Hveðrungr had accepted his defeat and joined Yuuto as one of his subordinates, that much was true. However, that didn’t change the fact that Yuuto had once been his sworn younger brother, and though he would never admit it to his face, Hveðrungr believed that Yuuto was much better suited to be a ruler than he was. Of course, he had no intention of moping around in his defeats. Seeing his former younger brother worry about him was a stark reminder to him of just how far he had fallen—something he found distinctly unpalatable.

“What exactly are you going to do in terms of troops then? You’re not planning to try to stop an army of a hundred thousand by yourself, are you?” Felicia asked.

“The only person in all of Yggdrasil who even stood a chance of pulling off something like that was that twin-runed monster Steinþórr.”

Hveðrungr’s comment was wholly accurate. After all, Steinþórr had possessed both immense combat prowess and a level of recklessness that bordered on sheer insanity. While Hveðrungr was a skilled swordsman who had even competed for the title of Mánagarmr, he was well aware that his success as a warrior was owed to his cunning. As such, he wouldn’t have made such a bold claim in front of Yuuto and Fagrahvél if he lacked a realistic plan for success.

“Relax. I already have troops at my disposal. Skáviðr left a bunch of his elite subordinates in my care.”

“Huh? Lord Skáviðr did?” Felicia blinked in surprise.

He could tell quite easily what she was thinking. Skáviðr’s subordinates had almost all taken the Oath of the Chalice to Sigrún, his successor as Panther Clan patriarch. Although Hveðrungr had been Skáviðr’s predecessor as patriarch, Skáviðr had succeeded him without any sort of Chalice oath having been exchanged between the two of them. This meant that no hierarchical relationship existed that would have allowed Skáviðr to leave his valued subordinates in Hveðrungr’s care.

“These men aren’t his public subordinates. They are soldiers who serve a more discreet purpose.”

“...I see.” Felicia nodded in understanding.

Power attracted all sorts of unsavory characters, and the resulting webs of intrigue were always complex. Such things meant that there were always dirty jobs that needed doing—unsavory tasks that no one in their right mind would want to undertake. Skáviðr had willingly taken those responsibilities upon himself from as early on as when Yuuto was still serving as the Wolf Clan’s patriarch. Thanks to his long tenure in his sordid role, Skáviðr had cultivated a sizable cell of subordinates who specialized in working in the shadows.

“It appears that they were instructed to come to me if something ever happened to him. Not that I’d ever been informed of anything like this,” Hveðrungr spat out rather sourly. It had caught him completely by surprise when Skáviðr’s operatives had appeared before him.

“He did so because he trusted you, big—err, Hveðrungr.”

“Hrmph. The vast majority of them are skulkers of the shadows with checkered pasts. Sigrún would never have been able to control them, so I just happened to be the one he fobbed them off to.”

Someone like Sigrún, who had always lived justly and righteously, would never be able to understand the motivations that drove those who lived less innocent lives. On top of that, back-alley deals and other dirty jobs didn’t fit Sigrún’s image whatsoever. She was one of the most public faces of the Steel Clan; for that sort of taint to attach itself to her in any manner would damage the reputation of the Steel Clan as a whole. Such tasks were things that she shouldn’t ever involve herself in. By contrast, Hveðrungr could empathize with those who carried old grudges and held dark secrets from his own personal experience, and he felt no hesitation with taking ruthless and coldhearted actions when necessary.

“Why must you be so cynical?” Felicia chided and furrowed her brow.

“It’s the truth,” Hveðrungr replied, flatly dismissing her critique.

“Oh for...”

“All that said, these men are the perfect kind of people to serve as my underlings.”

As Felicia pouted at him, Hveðrungr curled his lips into a grin. He was well aware that this was a case of giving the right person the right job. Conveniently for him, it had also given him the opportunity to redeem himself. While his words indicated otherwise, he truly was grateful for his late mentor’s parting gift. Of course, given his personality, Hveðrungr still considered outright accepting that gift as a form of humiliation. He couldn’t bring himself to openly express his gratitude; all he could do was show it by producing results. To do that, he needed something special...

“I believe I mentioned that there was something I wanted readied—something far more important than soldiers.”

The thing he had requested was absolutely necessary for his plan to work. Without it, his entire scheme would be dead in the water. In his mind, making sure he got it was of the utmost importance.

“Of course. The fate of the Steel Clan depends on you covering our retreat. We’ll do what we can to supply you with what you need,” Felicia stated, firmly acknowledging his request.

As Yuuto’s adjutant, Felicia was greatly involved in the operational and management aspects of the Steel Clan Army. What Hveðrungr had requested was rather precious and rare, but given her insistence that he would be properly supplied, she seemed confident that she would be able to secure the amount Hveðrungr had requested.

“Wonderful. I’ll be off then,” Hveðrungr stated.

“Of course. Best of luck,” Felicia replied.

As he was making his exit, Hveðrungr noticed that something was slightly off about Felicia. There was something a little different about her. “Hah, so that’s what it is. I can’t very well die in this next battle then, can I?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Felicia tilted her head suspiciously as Hveðrungr suddenly broke out chuckling. It seemed that she had yet to notice. While Hveðrungr was neither omnipotent nor omniscient, he possessed almost unrivaled observational skills, and based on what he could deduce using those skills, he was pretty certain that the changes he’d noticed in Felicia were because of that...

“Yah!”

“Raaah!”

Sigrún and Shiba’s battle had grown more and more heated. To any onlookers, their duel would have looked like a swirling storm of sword swings. They were the greatest soldiers of their respective clans—two mighty powers whose patriarchs currently divided the rulership of the continent between them. The two warriors were closely matched in skill. The battle was practically a dead heat. However...

“Raagh!”

“Tch!”

Sigrún felt a sharp pain sting her cheek, and she furrowed her brow in response. She thought she had avoided the attack, but it appeared that she hadn’t been entirely successful. It was only a minor nick; one that wouldn’t affect her ability to fight. Still, it perfectly represented the gulf between the two of them.

“If things carry on like this, there’s no way I can win,” Sigrún murmured to herself.

She had clearly closed the gap in skill between herself and Shiba since their battle at the Flame Clan capital a few months prior. Last time, she had been overwhelmed and had been forced entirely on the defensive. In a stark contrast to that fight, in this bout, she had been able to keep pace with him. Sigrún was far stronger than she had been back then.

“This is still not enough... The gap between us is still much too big.”

It might well have only been a tiny difference in relative terms, but at their current level, even the smallest disadvantages were extraordinarily difficult to reconcile. By all accounts, things were still fine. Sigrún still had plenty of motivation and energy left. However, being at a disadvantage sapped away one’s morale, and as that morale continued to drain, it would increase the strain on her physical endurance. It was clear to her that if nothing changed, she would eventually find herself in a rather terrible position.

“Heh... What’s wrong? Is this the best effort you can muster?” Shiba smiled confidently and flicked the blood off his sword with a snap of his wrist. He, too, understood the gap between the two of them in skill. “If you don’t want to die, you should hurry up and bring out whatever reserves you’ve got!”

Shiba once again went on the offensive, giving Sigrún no time to rest.

“Ugh!”

With no plan in mind as to how she could possibly win this battle, Sigrún deflected his downward slash. With her own wrist flick, she aimed a slash at Shiba’s face, but he avoided the strike by craning his head very slightly. The blow had been tantalizingly close to reaching its target, with perhaps a grain of wheat separating the tip of Sigrún’s blade from Shiba’s nose. Sigrún had even momentarily thought she had caught him. However, he had clearly read her attack.

“Hragh!”

With a powerful roar, Shiba brought down his sword against Sigrún. She hurriedly drew her sword back and took the blow with her blade. She felt the numbing impact of his strike run up her arms. He had taken advantage of her brief opening, and as a result, she hadn’t been able to properly deflect his attack.

“I’m not done just yet!”

Shiba quickly followed up with a horizontal sweep of his blade. Taking two of Shiba’s powerful blows in a block would put too much strain on her arms. She tried to strike back at him to deflect the incoming blow.

“Not good enough!” Shiba yelled tauntingly.

A split-second before their blades clashed, Shiba drew back with his sword and instead changed to an overhead slash.

“Mmph!”

Having been caught completely flat-footed, Sigrún’s response was slow. She couldn’t counter in time—she was about to die. The moment that thought crossed her mind, the color drained from her vision, and the movement of Shiba’s blade began to slow. Of course, the blade itself hadn’t actually slowed down, but rather, Sigrún’s perception of time had slowed dramatically. She used her superhuman reflexes to turn her blade and managed to barely block Shiba’s blade with her own. There was no stinging impact this time. Perhaps it was simply due to brute strength fueled by adrenaline, but when she was in this state, her strength increased substantially. That was probably what had kept the impact from jarring her grip. This was the Realm of Godspeed—the ace in the hole that had allowed Sigrún to slay countless powerful opponents in her previous battles.

“I see you’ve finally entered it,” Shiba said, laughing with glee. It seemed as though he had actually wanted her to reach this state. Being the kind of man he was, that assessment was probably true.

“He actually forced me into doing it...” Sigrún thought to herself as she gritted her teeth in frustration. She’d been dancing to Shiba’s tune this entire time. It was an extremely dangerous situation to be in.

“In that case... I shall join you!” Shiba’s movements began to accelerate. He, too, had entered the Realm of Godspeed.

Once again, the sound of their rapid exchange of sword blows echoed through the air. The superhuman speed of their duel meant that it sounded as though countless blades were clashing at once. Even if the Steel Clan Army’s forces were to find them, there would have been no way for them to have intervened—the two fighters were simply moving far too quickly.

“Very good! However large Yggdrasil may be, you’re the only one in this entire land who can fight me in this state!” Even in the midst of such an intense battle, Shiba’s face was lit up with glee. In truth, Shiba was sincerely enjoying this battle.

The first time he had entered the Realm (the phenomenon Sigrún referred to as the Realm of Godspeed) had been ten years ago, way back when he had responded to Nobunaga’s call to arms and defeated the previous patriarch of the Flame Clan. Lævateinn, Nobunaga’s predecessor as Flame Clan patriarch, was known by the title of the Sword King, and he had been widely recognized as the greatest warrior in Yggdrasil at that time. The reason Shiba had joined Nobunaga was not out of a desire to be on the winning side, but because he wished to fight the man who was known as the greatest warrior in Yggdrasil.

By all accounts, Lævateinn was remarkably strong—so strong that Shiba, who had already established a reputation as a powerful warrior despite his youth, was constantly on the defensive during their battle. It was during that very battle, with death staring him in the face, that he had first entered the Realm. He hadn’t been able to forget the sensation of being in the Realm ever since, and after intense training, he had finally learned how to enter it at will five years ago.

He had mastered the art of battle. He still remembered the joy—the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction—he had felt at the time. At the same time, however, that had been the start of his descent into despair. No one remained who could put up a fight against him. Obviously, no warrior within the Flame Clan stood a chance against him, and even the most powerful Einherjar of the clans they had invaded weren’t able to hold a candle to his skill either.

He’d never once had an opportunity to fight with everything he had—not a single time over the past five years. He had sorely hoped that the twin-runed monster Steinþórr, the former Lightning Clan patriarch—a man who was once known as the greatest warrior in Yggdrasil—would be the opponent he was searching for; a man against whom Shiba could unleash the full extent of his power and finally learn just how strong he was.

As fate would have it, however, that opportunity never arrived. Nobunaga had made the rational and correct decision to slay him using the Flame Clan’s matchlocks. Had Shiba been slain by Steinþórr, the Flame Clan’s morale would have collapsed, while the Lightning Clan Army’s morale would have shot up. Of course, the Flame Clan would have won in the end, but Shiba’s death would have made the conquest of the Lightning Clan much more difficult. Furthermore, it was easy to imagine that without the Flame Clan’s most aggressive and offensively capable berserker general, their subsequent conquests would have taken substantially more time. It was entirely sensible for Nobunaga to have done what he did to dispose of Steinþórr.

Nobunaga’s guiding principle was to fight only once he had secured victory. He would never begin a battle in which he believed that he stood any chance of losing. He wasn’t going to take such a dangerous gamble simply to satisfy one of his sworn children’s desire for a fair fight. As a general—and as a ruler—Nobunaga had made the right choice, and Shiba had no intention of holding that fact against his liege lord. Still, it had been an extreme disappointment. Shiba had put in the effort to master the art of battle, only to lose the opportunity to ever make use of it.

“This was the way things were meant to play out, I suppose. The gods truly are heartless. I knew that full well, but still...”

He had resigned himself to his current fate. That was until he had met the silver-haired she-wolf that had stepped into the same Realm.

He could still remember the powerful emotions he had felt during his first battle in the Realm of Godspeed—the ever-present fear of his own demise and the tension that came along with it, and the joy of utilizing skills he had spent years perfecting. He couldn’t remember anything that had made him happier. It was the most satisfying and most intense experience of his entire life. It affected him profoundly enough to make him regret that the battle had to eventually end—to cling to the prospect of actually not ending it.

It was in that very moment that she had exceeded even his expectations. She had fooled Shiba and escaped with her soldiers in tow. Of course, at the time, he had been enraged to have had his enjoyment brought to such a sudden end, but now he was glad it had happened. She now stood before him again, after all—and she was far stronger than before!

“Yaaaah!”

“Raaaah!”

Sigrún continued to deflect Shiba’s full-powered blows. He had never fought anyone who had managed to survive so many of his blows while he was in the Realm. Even the strongest Einherjar he had gone up against were all left as corpses after a few exchanges, and yet, despite the fact that they had exchanged at least thirty sets of blows by this point, his opponent was still very much alive.

“Heh... Sigrún, you really are quite something! More! Let me enjoy our battle in this Realm even further!” In the midst of their violent duel, Shiba let out a cry of pure joy. He felt his skills growing sharper with each attack.

Fighting wasn’t something one did alone. It required an opponent. It was only by fighting an opponent of the same skill level—by getting used to their speed, and by making adjustments mid-battle—that he was able to refine his movements within the Realm. Nothing could make Shiba feel happier than he did at this moment. However...

“Grah!”

“Oomph!”

One of Shiba’s more powerful blows finally managed to disarm Sigrún, whose blade was sent flying. She had been holding up against his assault to this point, but it appeared that she had finally succumbed to his superior brute strength. This seemed to be the limit of her ability.

“It’s over!”

He at least wanted to end it painlessly for her and swept his blade down toward her torso.

“Guh!”

Unable to withstand the strength of Shiba’s blow, Sigrún was thrown to the side and rolled across the ground. Despite Shiba’s best attempts to finish her off, Sigrún’s body was still intact.

“Still struggling, huh?” Shiba snorted.

Sigrún had partially unsheathed the other sword on her hip and had managed to just barely block Shiba’s attack. However, she hadn’t been properly braced, and as such, hadn’t managed to block the entirety of the blow. No, that wasn’t quite right, actually...

“Huff, huff...”

Sigrún picked up her main blade and used it to support herself as she stood up shakily. Had she let herself be thrown in that direction, or was it simply coincidence? No, it was more likely just down to chance. Sigrún’s face was drenched with sweat—she was gasping for air, her shoulders rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing. It was clear she was near her breaking point, but even so...

“She hasn’t given up just yet, it seems.” Shiba became even more cautious upon witnessing this sight. He took up his stance once again and faced his opponent, being sure to watch her closely. Shiba knew from experience: it was the wounded beast that was the most dangerous.

“Huff, huff... I knew as much already, but this guy is ridiculously strong,” Sigrún muttered to herself sourly as she readied her favored sword once more.

Given that their fighting styles were at complete opposite ends of the spectrum, the comparison she was about to make was a difficult one, but even so, Sigrún felt that Shiba was much stronger than Steinþórr. Of course, she also had to take into consideration how fitting each of the opponents had been to her fighting style.

In Steinþórr’s case, he was someone who used his god-given gifts in his fighting. His power and speed far exceeded those of both Shiba and Sigrún even while in the Realm of Godspeed, but he enjoyed fighting and had a tendency to hold back to better enjoy his battles. He also fought in a rough, unrefined manner, and while that added an element of unpredictability, it also meant his movements were crude and lacked finesse. Sigrún had been able to just barely hold her own against him for those two reasons, despite the fact that he was far superior in terms of physical ability.

By contrast, Shiba was simply a superior version of Sigrún herself. He had more power, more speed, and was more skilled. Furthermore, he showed no trace of overconfidence or playfulness in his fighting, and he presented none of the openings that Steinþórr had given her.

“For Father’s sake, I can’t lose here!” Sigrún shouted as though to steel herself—to push herself forward. The memory of Yuuto’s face and back as he had struggled with the grief of losing a loved one was seared in her mind. If she were to die here, Yuuto would blame himself and mourn her death. She couldn’t let that happen—there was no way she could let herself lose here. She needed to win at all costs.

“Relax, Sigrún.”

“Ah?!”

Suddenly hearing a familiar voice, Sigrún’s eyes widened in surprise. It was a voice she should never have been able to hear ever again.

“Brother Ská?!”

She felt for his presence, but the only people around her were Shiba and herself. There was no one else here. Of course, that went without saying. Skáviðr had already departed for Valhalla at the Battle of Glaðsheimr, after all. Nonetheless, the voice continued to speak.

“You’re like ice. Cold, hard, and sharp.”

“A heart of ice is necessary for a warrior, but ice alone cannot defeat your enemies. You may very well kill a man by sharpening it, but it cannot defeat steel. However, not even steel can cut water.”

“The clearest reflections come not from ice, but from water.”

“Learn to be as water, Sigrún. Only then will you become stronger than you are now.”

The words continued in quick succession. They were lessons that Skáviðr had repeatedly drilled into her during their training sessions.

“I’m told people reflect on their lives when near death... Perhaps this is something like that?”

As she stared death in the face, Sigrún’s survival instincts must have been searching through her subconscious to find any hints that could help her survive this situation. “Be as water, you say...?”

At the time, she had no idea what he had meant, but when she had found herself at her lowest point after losing to Shiba and injuring her dominant hand, she had painfully learned the importance of relaxing in battle, and she now understood, at least partly, what Skáviðr had been trying to teach her. By shifting from the hardness of ice to the softness of water, Sigrún had found a way to become just a bit stronger. If she hadn’t done so, she would have been dead by now—slain early in this duel.

“There’s still a step beyond?”

She had thought that mastering the Willow Technique had been the last thing she would need to learn from Skáviðr, but Skáviðr’s teachings always held deeper lessons. Even when she believed she understood the initial lesson, she often found there was a second or even a third lesson beyond it to be learned. That said, if there was something more to be gleaned beyond that initial teaching, Sigrún couldn’t see what that could possibly be, and she wasn’t at all confident she’d conveniently find the answer during this battle.

“Everything’s much clearer now. It seemed I’d gotten too tense again,” she stated in realization.

Having been overwhelmed by Shiba’s raw strength, both her heart and body had tensed up once again. That tension had reduced her Willow Technique’s effectiveness, and as a result, she had been unable to deflect Shiba’s blows. It had also narrowed her perspective and made her movements more predictable.

“Still, finding some way to relax in this situation is easier said than done...”

Finding a way to relax both in mind and body when faced with the very real possibility of your imminent death was an impossibly difficult thing to do. She thought back upon Skáviðr’s battle against Steinþórr with admiration; it was truly impressive that he had been able to maintain a state of such calm under the circumstances.

“Oh? It seems like you’ve thought of something. What sort of scheme have you come up with? You better show it to me quickly.” With his interest piqued, Shiba began to close the distance, step by step. While, by all appearances, he seemed to be casually stepping forward, there wasn’t even the slightest of openings present in his movements. Despite the fact that their relative abilities had become clear, and he was a step away from victory, there wasn’t a trace of overconfidence in any of Shiba’s actions. He was a troublesome opponent indeed. She wasn’t going to be able to hope for a mistake on his end.

“I have indeed. I suppose I may as well try it out.”

Sigrún released her right hand from her sword and held it only in her left hand.

“Mm?”

Shiba looked over at her with his brows knit in suspicion. Sigrún hadn’t been able to withstand the strength of his blows even with both hands. Based on the battle so far, Sigrún was clearly right-handed. It seemed like utter madness for her to fight him using just her off-hand. In a sense, this had left the perfect opening for Shiba, but he was so surprised by her actions that he wasn’t able to make a meaningful move. During that moment’s hesitation, Sigrún drew the other sword that she had used to block Shiba’s blow from earlier. It was the first sword that Yuuto had crafted, and it was a sword that had saved Sigrún’s life on countless occasions. However, since it had been his first creation, it wasn’t a particularly well crafted weapon, and as of late, Sigrún had started favoring the blade Ingrid had made, which better suited Sigrún’s height and fighting style. Of course, Sigrún had always worn Yuuto’s sword as a charm every time she went into battle. She held on tightly to that lucky charm—that sword that protected her—in her right hand.

“You’re dual-wielding, are you?” Shiba furrowed his brow, his expression conflicted. It was as though he wanted to hope, but couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to it. “Are you sure? If we clash, I won’t hold back at all. If you want to put it back, then now’s the time.”

Sigrún could easily read what Shiba was thinking. “Two swords are stronger than one” was the thinking of an amateur who knew nothing about swordsmanship. If it were true, the world would be full of dual-wielding swordsmen. But in reality, there were almost no dual-wielders. The reason was simple: almost all fighters had a dominant hand, and their off-hand was inferior in both strength and in dexterity.

Rather than swing a sword with that off-hand, using both hands to wield a single blade produced superior results both in terms of speed and in terms of power. And of course, Sigrún, as the most powerful warrior of the Steel Clan, was well aware of that fact.

“Not an issue. It’s true that I haven’t mastered the skill just yet, but I’m not making this choice out of desperation, and it’s not something I’ve just decided to try on a whim.”

She had first come up with the idea two years ago. Back then, she had switched from primarily using Yuuto’s blade to the one Ingrid had made her, and she had fought a battle to the death against her beloved wolf Hildólfr’s mother. Perhaps it had been a strange twist of fate, but then, like now, she had survived by drawing Yuuto’s sword at the last moment. Since then, Sigrún had been trying to find a way to include Yuuto’s sword in her fighting form. While Ingrid’s sword was easier to handle, she desperately wished to continue using the blade crafted by the man she loved and admired. Of course, taking such feelings to the battlefield would only invite death. For that reason, though she had trained using this strange fighting style, she had kept it largely to herself, electing to fight all of her major battles until this point with just a single blade. However, given that her standard single-bladed techniques had no chance of working against Shiba, fighting with dual blades was now her only hope.

“Interesting. Show me what you’ve got! Don’t let me down, Sigrún!”

Shiba lunged forward with a roar, stepping firmly into Sigrún’s range. He, of course, was greeted by a slash from Sigrún.

“Pointless!”

Shiba deflected the blade with an angry shout, his rage driven by disappointment. Sigrún was unable to match Shiba’s strength with both hands. There was no way that a swing using one arm—her off-hand at that—would stand a chance against him. Just as Shiba was about to go on the offensive...

“Ah?!”

Sigrún’s right-hand blade quickly followed the previous blow. He blocked it, only for the left to trail immediately in its wake. Faced with a constant barrage of sword strikes, Shiba was forced to focus on his defense.

Each slash wasn’t particularly heavy. In fact, they felt almost breezy and insubstantial. However, this proverbial breeze was made of sharpened steel. A steel blade didn’t need much power behind it to kill a person. Even a child’s strength would be enough to take down the mightiest warrior if the blade struck at that warrior’s heart. Shiba was just as vulnerable to this as any other warrior.

Of course, Sigrún was no child; she was an Einherjar. Even her one-handed blows were stronger than those of a two-handed swing from an ordinary soldier. Furthermore, each of her hands held within them a katana with a sharp, deadly edge. If Shiba took even a single one of those blows head-on, it could very well be enough to take off an arm or even his head.

“Yaah!”

“Graaah!”

As Sigrún continued to unleash her whirlwind of attacks, Shiba’s expression lost its composure for the first time during their battle, and he furrowed his brow in concentration. Sigrún continued to unleash her twin-bladed barrage from within the Realm of Godspeed. Even with Shiba’s skill, the attacks came at him with such regularity and ferocity that he was forced to focus entirely on blocking the blows.

“I see... She’s abandoned her defense and gone all-in on her assault.”

It was a fighting style she could only pull off if she had steeled herself for the possibility of her death and put everything on the line. The fact that her left hand wasn’t her dominant hand meant the strikes from her left blade were slightly slower than her dominant hand’s would be. That small detail was basically all that was keeping him alive right now.

“Hah! So this is it! This is my full potential!”

Even at what he believed was his full power, he still found himself being pushed to the very edge... It was the first time he’d felt this way in ten years. He was definitely in danger. He was being cornered by his opponent, and yet the only thing that Shiba felt was unbridled joy.

Yes, he was certainly struggling. It was difficult. He was frustrated. He was scared. Frightened, even. But this was what he had been searching for over the last ten years: an opponent he could fight with all his strength and yet not easily defeat. That was what was so great about this battle in his eyes. It was because he was fighting such a powerful opponent that he could take himself beyond his own perceived limits. He was finding a part of himself he’d never come across before. He had never been satisfied with his current self. Shiba had always sought out the next peak, the next step.

“Grmph!”

In the midst of the savage exchange, Shiba’s cheek split open, and his blood spilled onto the ground. Until now, he had never been wounded while in the Realm since the very first time he had entered it.

“Hah!”

Regardless, Shiba showed no sign of fear. If anything, his expression was locked into a grin befitting the war demon he was. He then lunged forward with all his might.

He now regarded Sigrún as his equal. She was the one opponent he couldn’t defeat unscathed. He needed to draw her as close as possible. The wound on his cheek was deep; it would leave a scar, but it was still his cheek. It had no impact on his fighting ability. And so, now that he had drawn her this close...

“Got you!”

He quickly took advantage of the smallest of openings to make his own attack. The most he was able to manage was a single blow. However, a single strike could very well be more than enough. A sword held in one hand stood no chance against one of Shiba’s full strength attacks. Shiba unleashed a slash with all his might.

“Even two blades aren’t enough to break through his defenses, it would seem...”

In the midst of her relentless assault on Shiba, Sigrún felt a prickle of anxiety.

Her decision to dual-wield had substantially increased the speed of her attacks. However, there were also many downsides to doing so. One of these was the fact that it was extraordinarily difficult to use the two blades in unison, as it required coordinating their strikes to complement one another rather than having each blade work independently. For the moment, the Realm of Godspeed’s effect of slowing down her perception of time had helped her solve that problem.

Unfortunately, there was another issue that was substantially more dangerous: defense. It was impossible to block an attack from a stronger opponent using just one hand. While Sigrún had tried to come up with a method to deflect strikes one-handed through the use of the Willow Technique, she hadn’t quite found the right solution yet. It was particularly difficult for her to pull such a thing off when she tried to use her left hand for defense. The Willow Technique required a nuanced understanding of both the user’s and their opponent’s strengths. However, because her left hand—her off-hand—lacked the dexterity of her right, Sigrún wasn’t able to control it with the level of precision that was necessary to make dual-wielding a viable option for her. This was the greatest reason why Sigrún had steadfastly refused to use two blades in actual combat until now. In a sword fight, even a single blow was lethal. To face off against opponents like Shiba using such a fundamentally flawed fighting style would have been the height of recklessness.

“I need to settle things here or I’m finished.”

While things were going well for the moment, if she was forced on the defensive, the illusion of superiority she’d been maintaining through the battle so far would quickly crumble away. She needed to shatter her opponent’s iron-clad defenses and bring this duel to an end before that could happen. However, as for whether things would go the way she had planned...

“I can’t get through!”

Despite the fact that she was now moving faster than him, Sigrún was still unable to best Shiba.

“The gap between us is just...”

One thing that had become painfully clear to her in this duel was just how skilled Shiba was at reading and avoiding attacks. It felt as though he had grasped every aspect of her fighting style: her form, her physical abilities, and even the very paths that her blades would take. He was using that knowledge to read her attacks, and because of that, she wasn’t able to take the last step needed to break through his defenses.

“At this rate... Tch!”

Although she still maintained her offensive advantage for the time being, her attacks were essentially a non-stop flurry of blows that left her no time to even breathe. It was extremely taxing on her body—especially so considering she was doing all of this while in the Realm of Godspeed. It was like punching a hole in a water cairn. She felt the strength rapidly draining from her body.

“Grmph!”

One of the attacks she unleashed in her anxious frenzy finally landed, splitting Shiba’s cheek. Sigrún’s joy was short-lived, however. Her rune, Hati, the Devourer of the Moon, was practically screaming at her in her mind. One of the abilities that her rune gave her was to detect approaching danger. Though he had been wounded, there was no sign of hesitation or fear in Shiba’s eyes. His fighting spirit burned brightly in his gaze, and he stepped boldly forward.

“He’s taking the wound so he can finish me!” Sigrún thought to herself worriedly.

He was a terrifying opponent. He had quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the strike, so instead, he moved just enough to avoid any fatal damage and created an ideal opportunity to return the favor. Sigrún could do little else besides marvel at the impressive speed of his judgment and his ability to accurately read her attacks.

“Damn it!”

What came next was a diagonal slash aimed at her left side—yes, her left. It was a strike that had accounted for the weakness in her dual-wielding.

“He took the bait...!”

Sigrún focused her strength into her left hand and deflected Shiba’s attack.

Certainly, she still needed to refine her skill with the Willow Technique when using it with a weapon in her non-dominant hand, but because she knew where his attack would be focused, she was able to prepare for it and vastly increase her chance of success.

“I had faith that you would spot it!”

Faith in such an implacable enemy was an odd thing to have. While she didn’t know much about Shiba’s character, she was fully aware of his skill as a swordsman. She had essentially wagered her life on his combat experience allowing him to identify the weakness she had left open for him to exploit. As luck would have it, he had indeed done so. He let loose a powerful finishing blow aimed directly at her left flank, just as she had hoped.

“Rah!”

However, Shiba was a master of his craft. The moment he had noticed her using the Willow Technique, he immediately stopped his blade mid-swing, preventing her from taking him off balance. He had kept the possibility of her using the Willow Technique left-handed firmly in mind. He was a thoroughly troublesome opponent. Still, as impressive as his read had been, Shiba’s unplanned movement had forced him to tense for just a moment. For Sigrún, that was more than enough of an opening. The moment she had realized her left-handed deflection had worked, she had already unleashed a blow with her right blade. Everything she’d done until now had been for the sole purpose of allowing her to take advantage of this split-second opening he had been forced to leave her.

“Tch!”

Shiba leaped backward to avoid the attack, but Sigrún was faster. She felt the sensation of her blade cutting through flesh, and a fresh horizontal wound opened on Shiba’s face, spraying blood. Shiba grunted in pain. The moment she finished her swing, Sigrún collapsed to one knee and heaved her shoulders to draw in breath. Her lips were blue from a lack of oxygen. She was at the very edge of her limit, close to passing out from a lack of air. Even through that, she had felt her blow connect. It had all been worth it. Shiba was left doubled over, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“I managed it, somehow...” Sigrún muttered to herself, barely able to speak.

If she were being honest with herself, it was most likely that she’d have only successfully connected a hit onto Shiba in just a single try out of ten. This blow hadn’t been dumb luck, however. She had made use of a tactic Yuuto employed incredibly effectively—showing an opponent one’s weakness to lure them into a false sense of security.

Her long experience serving under Yuuto had borne fruit at this very moment. The injury she had sustained to her right hand during the campaign against the Silk Clan had, in the end, been a blessing in disguise. It had given her the necessary insight to truly master the Willow Technique, and more than anything, it had forced her to undergo intense training using her left hand—her off-hand.

She had also been graced with an exceptional sparring partner. Hildegard, who had fulfilled that role, was much stronger than Sigrún, at least in terms of raw physical ability. Thanks to her rigorous practice against Hildegard, she had learned a great deal. Sigrún’s last maneuver was, in essence, the sum result of all of her efforts and experiences up to that point.

“Heh. Heheheh.”

Despite taking Sigrún’s attack head-on, Shiba laughed as he stood up. His face was soaked red with blood, and he looked like some kind of mythical monster that feasted upon the flesh of people.

“Still alive, are you?” Sigrún said with a pained expression. She recalled the feeling of her blade cutting through his flesh, but it seemed that it hadn’t been enough to dispatch him.

“Impressive, Sigrún. Even I thought I was finished for a moment there,” the crimson devil said with a predatory grin. He was bleeding profusely, and he had lost an eye, but he was still more than capable of fighting.

Sigrún, meanwhile, tried to force herself to stand, bracing herself with her sword, but her knees trembled, refusing to listen to her commands. She had a splitting headache, and the color had returned to the world she saw through her eyes. She was no longer in the Realm of Godspeed.

“It seems that last attack took what little energy you had left out of you.”

Shiba instantly sized up Sigrún’s current state. That wasn’t so much a result of Shiba’s sharp senses as a warrior, but rather due to the fact that Sigrún was visibly spent. The truth was that Sigrún’s body and mind were at their very limit. Her limbs were heavy from the effects of lingering in the Realm of Godspeed for such an extended period of time. The sheer exhaustion she felt made it difficult for her to focus her eyes. However, even as crippling fatigue clouded her mind, she knew; this was the worst possible situation that she could be in.