The colossal meteor of iron struck the branches of the World Tree with crushing force.
Leaves and splintered branches crumbled apart and rained down upon the earth in a downpour.
But the World Tree was not so easily undone.
The true destructive power of Heaven-Collapsing Meteoric Iron lay in its descent, in obliterating the surrounding land upon impact.
Yet the World Tree’s dense, unyielding canopy had not allowed the spell to reach the ground.
It had endured a force capable of grinding an entire cliff face into dust by sheer mass alone.
But Ludger did not regret it.
It was more than enough to have stopped the branches from absorbing sunlight and firing lances of light.
That had been his intention from the beginning.
The shattered debris of branches and leaves plummeted earthward.
The World Tree was so vast that even the fragments of its broken limbs were the size of buildings.
One massive branch came crashing down with a boom, crushing the wood zombies that had clustered beneath it.
Roots shuddered violently under the weight, collapsing and writhing where they had been pinned.
Clouds of dust rose across the World Tree’s expanse from the impacts of falling wreckage.
Amid the destruction, Alex and Bereborn clashed without yielding an inch.
Though the surroundings had already been devastated, the battle only grew more frenzied with time.
Those who had reached the master’s domain of the sword could still fight at their fullest in even the harshest conditions.
The Forest Walk, which allowed them to step across crumbling debris and fight in three dimensions, could not be underestimated either.
Even so, the present conditions were perilous even for such masters.
The slightest lapse would mean death—a duel balanced on the edge of a blade.
Indeed, as they collided, massive wreckage fell from above.
If they locked into a contest of strength now, both would be crushed beneath it together.
Alex and Bereborn angled one sword toward each other, while their free blades cleaved through the falling debris above their heads.
Splintered fragments scattered outward, creating new obstacles that obscured their sight.
Each gauged the other’s blind spots, slipping behind debris to seek openings.
The two of them weaving through the rain of rubble looked like dancers moving through a storm.
In the scant seconds before the wreckage struck the ground, dozens of white flashes of steel split the air between them.
A relentless contest of skill, blow answering blow.
Every step calculated, every motion part of a deadly dance.
Yet still, their battle was perfectly matched—neither victor nor vanquished.
Bereborn began to grow restless.
“You don’t look so calm, elf.”
With his senses sharpened to their peak, Alex could read Bereborn’s state.
The man could still fight, but mentally, he was being cornered.
The cause, most likely, was the upheaval happening above them.
‘Well, I was shocked too. Who would have thought that monster of a man would appear here?’
Alex had seen him.
In the midst of his duel with Bereborn, he caught sight of a towering man forcing through the whirling roots of the World Tree.
That overwhelming torrent of strength—he could not have been mistaken.
Lutus Wardot, the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman, had entered the fray himself.
“This is troubling. The one who just passed by is a terrifying man. What do they call him again? The Strongest Swordsman?”
“......”
Bereborn leveled his sword at Alex without a word.
The tip of his blade blurred—then split downward from Alex’s crown to his groin.
But Alex had already read the intent, stepping aside just enough to evade it.
Bereborn sought to follow with another strike, but had to retreat as wreckage crashed down from above.
If he tried to cut it away, Alex would seize the opening.
“You look awfully impatient.”
Alex continued to taunt him.
Even that iron-walled, emotionless opponent was beginning to show cracks.
A battle was never just about swordsmanship alone.
No matter how skilled a knight, a shaken mind and mounting impatience robbed one of strength.
Alex knew it, and he pressed Bereborn’s nerves again and again.
A minor detail, perhaps.
But in a clash on the razor’s edge, a minor difference could decide everything.
Even the tiniest fracture would widen over time, turning into a fatal gap.
Bereborn knew it too, and fought to steady himself against Alex’s needling.
What vexed him more was Alex’s growth in the midst of the fight.
“I thought I’d stripped away every scrap of protection from you.”
All of Alex’s defensive artifacts had been destroyed.
The equipment that had bridged the gap between them was gone—yet in that time, Alex himself had risen to equal footing.
He had caught up, in mere minutes, to swordsmanship Bereborn had honed for centuries.
A monster.
Alex’s talent was the kind scarce across the entire continent.
It should never happen, but—
If by some chance Bereborn were to fall here, and Alex fed upon that victory to grow even stronger—
Would there even be a swordsman alive who could face him then?
Therefore, he had to be killed here.
Bereborn readied himself to sacrifice an arm if needed.
Such was the price to cut down this human who now stood his equal.
Seeing the shift in Bereborn’s intent, Alex smirked.
A brilliant glint flashed in his eyes.
“Sorry, but you can’t win against me anymore.”
“Is that so?”
“No, really. If you don’t believe me, come and see for yourself.”
Thud! Crash!
Branches of the World Tree crashed down around them.
In an instant, a cloud of dust veiled them from each other’s eyes.
That was the signal.
At the same time, Alex and Bereborn lunged.
Their shadows tangled within the dust, blades clashing in bursts of light.
The shockwaves from their duel shredded the dust cloud apart.
Where the winds tore past, gouges and scars marred the earth.
Bereborn’s blade surged with green light, the embodiment of natural energy.
Alex’s sword gleamed with a sharp, ashen aura.
Speed. Skill. Strength.
In all, they were equals, neither retreating as they fought to the bitter end.
Their bodies bore fresh wounds, crimson blood dripping down their skin.
“Uaaahhh!”
Bereborn’s eyes widened as he roared.
The culmination of centuries of technique poured forth without restraint.
He would kill this human.
And he would save Lady Ventmin.
For she alone had given meaning to his life.
Everyone said he was nothing more than a hunting dog. That even Ventmin only saw him as a convenient piece.
But that was enough. That was everything.
Even if the world spat upon her, he would stand by her.
He would take upon his body every stone and every curse cast at her.
So Bereborn prayed for victory with every fiber of his being.
“You...”
Reading for the first time the will that Bereborn had never revealed, Alex’s eyes widened.
So that’s how it was. You too, like me...
A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at his lips.
The Alex who had relentlessly needled and provoked Bereborn was gone.
Now, before him, he felt kinship with another swordsman—
a man who had given everything out of love for a woman.
“I understand you. Truly, I do. But don’t expect me to apologize. I also have reasons I cannot lose.”
With those words, Alex shifted his sword.
A spiral.
Bereborn’s green energy, clashing with Alex’s aura, twisted as though caught in a violent current.
“H-how...?”
“He just showed me as he passed by, didn’t he?”
Bereborn thought desperately—he had to kill Alex before he grew any further.
Now that their skill was equal, he must sacrifice an arm if necessary to bring him down.
This was the moment. With no outside interference, it was the best chance he’d ever get.
But Bereborn was mistaken.
From the very moment of their final clash, Alex had already surpassed Bereborn.
‘Overtaken, by him?’
Just from witnessing Lutus Wardot casually demonstrate a fragment of his swordsmanship in passing—
Alex had advanced one more step in that instant.
It wasn’t interference.
It was merely a technique shown in passing, yet Alex had seized it and grown before Bereborn’s very eyes.
A monster of talent.
Bereborn felt the illusion that the man before him had become far larger than himself.
His sword path wavered, tangled in the ash-gray vortex, and veered off course.
Then, a streak of gray light slashed diagonally across his chest.
There was no sound.
Bereborn silently lowered his gaze to his chest.
The breastplate of his armor was split open, and blood was flowing out.
“I see. So, here I...”
A faint smile appeared on his face for the first time.
It was the first trace of emotion ever to touch his expressionless features.
Bereborn widened his dimming eyes, forcing them open, and stepped forward with grim resolve.
Alex’s strike had already reached his heart.
With that movement, blood burst more violently from his chest.
But it was fine.
In this moment—when he thought his opponent had completely relaxed his guard—
If he could just land one strike, even if it were his last...
“There’s no way that could happen.”
Slish.
The sword flew from his hand.
It wasn’t that he had dropped it—Alex’s blade had severed his wrist.
Bereborn’s final desperate strike, fueled by the burning of his last life, had already been foreseen by Alex.
“H-how...?”
With a pale face, Bereborn looked at Alex and asked.
How could he have known he would attempt that final attack?
“I told you, I understood you. You had the face of a man fighting for the woman he cherished.”
Alex’s answer was clear.
“A man like that wouldn’t give up over just a wound like this. That’s why I didn’t let my guard down. Because if it were me, I would’ve done the same.”
It wasn’t mockery.
It was, in fact, the greatest praise Alex could offer.
Bereborn realized at last that he had been surpassed both in skill and in will.
And the man he had fought so fiercely against—
was also someone who understood him, a man in the same position.
“I see.”
To at least be acknowledged in his final moment—perhaps that wasn’t such a bad end.
With that thought, Bereborn closed his eyes and fell to the side.
Alex silently offered a brief prayer for his repose, then lifted his head and looked upward.
Above, countless dazzling spells were detonating in succession.
It must have been Ludger at work, and just from the waves of power he could feel, it was clear he was pushing himself to the extreme.
“My life sure is troublesome.”
Alex grumbled as he stepped on the debris and leapt upward.
* * *
Draining artifacts of their energy and drawing mana even from Hans in his spiritualized form, Ludger poured every ounce of his focus into unleashing spell after spell.
To use just one of these required burning that vicious mana amplifier like tobacco.
Yet now he was controlling mana dozens of times greater.
Outwardly calm, but in his head it throbbed, as though it would explode from the sheer computation.
If not for the support of Source Code, blood might already have been pouring from his eyes and nose.
But it was fine.
With this, he had fulfilled his role of opening the way.
The army of wood zombies had been swept away, and even the roots of the World Tree had been mostly obliterated.
At that moment, as if waiting for it, Lutus, Ambella, and Vierno charged straight ahead.
With the wind spirit leading him like a storm, Vierno pierced forward, while Ambella and Lutus took the supporting flanks.
“You damn worms!”
Ventmin, while fending off Ludger’s magic, stretched out her hand toward the three rushing at her.
Her fingertips split open, and countless wooden tendrils burst forth.
From # Nоvеlight # a single finger, they grew to the size of massive trees, splitting into two and three.
In an instant, a tidal wave of wood blocked their vision.
“I’ll open it!”
Ambella swung her sword wide, as though she had been waiting for this.
The gathering of power, and then, at its peak, release—
The world before her was split in two.
The green tidal wave rushing to crush them split apart left and right, and the three, without slowing, charged through the gap.
Golden arrows, swinging roots, sprays of acidic sap—
None of them were enough to halt three who had already reached the realm of absolutes.
Ventmin realized she could not go on like this. She decided to ignore Ludger’s magic and concentrate on the three instead.
Woooong.
The World Tree shook violently again.
The surroundings darkened as if night had returned, and the World Tree shone even brighter.
It was coming.
The same attack that had wiped out the entire moderate faction’s army in a single strike.
Should they evade? Defend? Block it at once?
That was what Vierno thought—until he grit his teeth.
“Just keep running!”
There was a strange certainty in his voice.
Lutus and Ambella exchanged a glance, then nodded at the same time.
Seeing the three continue without stopping, Ventmin’s lips curled into a cruel smile.
It was the same attack that had annihilated an entire army.
No matter who they were, the three of them could not possibly remain unscathed.
The absorbed light gathered into one, forming a massive sphere of destruction.
The pulsing energy beat like a heart, then unleashed in one direction.
It was like pouring light into a colossal funnel and forcing it through a narrow channel.
Everything around was dyed white.
And within it, suddenly, darkness began to grow.
“I was waiting for this.”
With Ludger’s voice—impossible to hear amidst the chaos—
a new magic unfolded.
6th-Circle, dark-element grand magic.
[Dreamlike Darkness of Oblivion].
A massive whirlpool of shadow, reminiscent of a black hole, devoured the World Tree’s light.
