8mi Chapter 410: Carving Through Time
Chapter 410: Carving Through Time
[GERAGERAGERAGERA!]
Wormungandr spread both arms wide and looked up at the ceiling, laughing loudly.
Meanwhile, I stood face-to-face with the Divine Servant, drenched in sweat.
[Hahh...... haa, hahh......!]
Piki!
A sound rang from within my body.
The sound of my muscles being strained to its limits.
I had been fighting Wormungandr for a long time now.
Was it a misfortune that no one else had shown up here?
Or perhaps———-
[Gerarara...... Looks like you're about to reach your limit in that state.]
Turning his face towards me, Wormungandr scratched his temple with a fingertip.
[The unconscious state you were in is basically a state of hyper-focus...... But the fact that you've been able to maintain it this long is already abnormal. Geragera...... You're a real monster, young lady.]
[Hahh, hahh......!]
I didn't even have the luxury of wiping away my sweat anymore.
The exhaustion was terrifyingly severe.
I had struck Wormungandr countless times.
Again and again, I had wounded him.
Again and again.
I had made him bleed.
And yet———-
Wormungandr still wouldn't fall.
[I'd say you're the first human to make me spill this much blood. You've even forced me to use up a decent chunk of my regeneration capacity...... Kuku...... for a human to hang on this stubbornly. Gerarara...... nothing could make me happier...... isn't that right, Vysis......]
(Kuh...... he's right...... my focus is......)
With my sweat-soaked hand, I tightened my grip on my unique sword.
And at that moment, I suddenly remembered.
Before the assault.
I had spoken with Seras Ashrain.
We had discussed our combat capabilities.
We had talked about battle———- about strength.
(Sustainability......)
Seras had said this:
"From what you've told me, Ayaka-dono, it seems that you, like me, can only maintain your peak state for a limited time. And this...... may be our greatest weakness."
"Seras-san has the burden of your Origin Regalia...... while I have my finite MP and the strain of my Limit Break......"
Now, on top of that, I had also been in the "unconscious state" that Wormungandr mentioned.
All of them——— finite.
"He's already dead, so I'm speaking this merely out of intuition...... but whether it's my Origin Regalia or Ayaka-dono's Unique Skill and Limit Break, we might be able to rival even that Civit Gartland in strength. No, perhaps———– we might even have a chance to win."
"You're talking about that "Humanity's Strongest"......"
"At the very least, with our current selves, I don't believe we would be killed in a single blow."
Seras had suggested that we might be able to match him.
But at the same time......
"However...... I have also realized that the true strength of "Humanity's Strongest" lay elsewhere."
"His true strength?"
"Yes. As you may know, there was once an incident in the Bakuos Empire where the Emperor's younger brother, a Duke, rose in rebellion against him. At the time, most of the Bakuos nobility sided with the younger brother, who was widely admired."
A struggle for the throne between two brothers.
By the time Wormungandr finishes speaking, I’ve already moved on to my next action.
I slip to his flank, aiming to cut through his body.
His hardened backhand swings toward me, but I block it with my own weapon, focusing all its hardness to a single point.
Killing intent.
It scorches my skin———- my senses.
Intense like raging flames.
Scorching hot, pure murderous intent.
I can no longer see Wormungandr’s figure clearly.
He’s moving too fast.
Instead, I rely on the feeling of his killing intent burning through me, tracking his movements by instinct.
I parry an attack from behind without turning around, blocking it with my unique sword.
Even the act of turning would create an opening in this battle.
I don’t blink.
Against Wormungandr in his current state, even the fraction of a second spent blinking could lead to death.
I cannot allow the flower of my death to bloom here.
I grit my teeth.
Wormungandr, too, has stopped speaking.
A clash between two warriors, their senses honed to the absolute limit.
A battle of wits.
A dance where all unnecessary elements are stripped away, leaving only the chosen attacks, defenses———— evasive maneuvers.
Perhaps, to an observer, this fight might even resemble an art form.
On this battlefield———–
One misstep means instant death.
It’s a battle like threading a needle through the tiniest hole.
Keeping that fragile thread from snapping as long as I can———-
I dive even deeper.
Until that thread breaks———– I run.
My throat burns from the searing pure killing intent.
My throat.
My eyes.
My skin.
My mind.
They sting———– burning hot.
Pure scorching heat.
Even as my senses and body are scorched by the inferno of killing intent, I swing my blade.
I believe......
Even if I cannot win......
As long as I can keep Wormungandr tied to this battlefield, even for a little longer———-
I believe that this time will become the time that saves my comrades.
I will...... protect them.......
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That's why———
I will carve through time.
Even if only for a second longer.
▽
That battle, "nailed" in more ways than one————- was finally nearing its end.