5
The eye patch covering the Sword Saint’s left eye fluttered down to the white floor.
“…Ah.”
Julius was dumbfounded as a feeble sound escaped his lips.
A curtain had come down on their all-out clash. However, unable to stop his momentum, he thrust his aurora-clad sword forward, piercing his opponent’s vitals.
“Tch, damn it. What a lame way to end this.”
Julius was shocked even though he was the one who had done the stabbing. Ironically, Reid was utterly calm. Despite the sword buried in his chest, he showed no sign of pain on his face. He didn’t so much as wince. Was it due to his unwavering mental fortitude, or was there a different explanation inside his heroic body?
His burly chest sported another wound in addition to the one made by Julius’s sword—they were cracks. And more were appearing. They reached his arms, legs, neck, and cheeks. Wounds that looked like cracked glass spread across his whole body.
Julius understood on an instinctive level what it meant.
An impossible distortion that should never have existed was being corrected. That was what he was seeing.
“Well, there it is. There ain’t nothing in the world that can contain a guy like me ’cept my own body,” Reid said as he looked at his disintegrating hand. It was plain to see that he was right.
After Gluttony’s authority pulled him in, Reid Astrea took over the Archbishop’s body and returned to this world. But that didn’t change the fact that the body was fundamentally the same one that belonged to the Archbishop of Gluttony, Roy Alphard.
In other words, the container Roy Alphard couldn’t possibly hold Reid Astrea’s soul.
The battle with Julius had pushed it to the limit.
“Then maybe you should have been the one to—!”
“Kah-kah-kah. Things never go the way you want ’em to—if you’re a weakling, that is. What, you gonna cry about it?”
Casting down his sword, Reid donned a nasty grin.
How could he act like that? He was doomed to disappear from the world once more.
Perhaps, if he had defeated Julius, he might have been able to live a new life. That possibility had slipped away.
“Dumbass. What was I gonna do if I came back to life? Maybe play around with that babe who passed through before, or the broad over there might have been fine, too. Or that sexy babe…”
“D-do you really have no regrets…?”
“Nope. Doin’ what I want, when I want is my style. It would be a lot easier for you if you did the same.”
“…I am grateful for your advice. However, I believe that path to be much thornier.”
Julius had chosen to keep his shell. He would wear it with his head held high. It would be fair to accuse him of living a lie, or perhaps more gently, to say that he was playing the part of someone fundamentally different from himself, in a way.
Because Julius had known someone who had chosen that path, had learned that he could live in that way, as he wished to be, he wouldn’t choose Reid’s uninhibited wildness for himself, though he found it dazzling to behold.
Tracing the scar beneath his left eye that would forever remain, Julius made a vow to the pinnacle of swords.
Reid snorted in annoyance at that response.
And then he looked at his own chest, pointing to the one mark that wasn’t a result of the cracks formed by passing his body’s limits.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, you bastard. It was a fluke your sword reached me. If this was my body, you wouldn’t even be able to touch me with your snot.”
“Not that I would ever attempt such a thing…”
“Hah! Loosen up a little!”
Reid hit Julius’s shoulder.
Tensing at the impact, Julius let out a long, deep breath. It wasn’t as if he had come to terms with everything, or even accepted it. But while he was flustered by what had happened before his eyes, to let this moment slip away would be unbearable.
The cracks spread enough that the end was in sight.
So Julius raised his sword he had pulled out of Reid and held it in front of his face.
“From the depths of my heart, I respect the strength of your blade.”
“I don’t need the adoration of a guy. I’m runnin’ away with this victory, Julius.”
“ ”
Julius gazed in wonder when he was addressed by name at the very end.
However, since he had decided in his heart to stay steady, he hid his shock with a slight smile and a bow.
As the Finest of Knights, he had a duty to uphold his ideals. Just like he had so boldly claimed when he introduced himself to this living legend.
“Indeed, to the very end—it is your victory, Reid Astrea.”
“Hah. Not a bad look for a loser.”
With those parting words, the fractures spread…
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