I'd gotten quite far away.
Fighting God Malt's rampage.
The giant demon toppled trees, tore up the earth, and rampaged like a storm.
I'd been swept away by the aftermath, distancing myself from the battlefield.
The ones dealing with him were
Since they said the Fighting God was purely a monster of power, the matchup worked in their favor.
No one could beat Zanoba in raw power—he was a vessel for a god, after all—and Doga was strong against opponents who charged straight at him.
But naturally...
I didn't have time to worry about others.
Standing before me was the Seventh of the Seven Great Powers.
North God Kalman III.
Alexander Ryback.
One of the two who had sent me tumbling into the valley.
And to make matters worse, I was completely unarmed—my Type-2 Improved was also incomplete.
This was not an opponent I could afford to underestimate or hold back against.
First strike wins— Out of the mud swamp— "Wait!"
The instant I thought that, North God Kalman III called for a halt.
But he was of the North God Style. He was the type who might use a "wait" call as a setup for a surprise attack.
Without a word, I deployed a mud swamp.
Then fired off a rock cannonball in quick succession.
"Before we fight, let's talk for a moment!"
The rock cannonball was deflected effortlessly.
No—did it veer off course?
Either way, the rock cannonball changed trajectory in midair and was deflected.
His feet should have been planted in the mud swamp I'd set up, yet they weren't sinking.
Was this the power of the North God!?
No, that wasn't it.
I'd heard about the Dragon King Sword's abilities before.
"Your anger is entirely justified.
You had both arms cut off and were thrown into a valley—of course you want to fight right away.
But please, bear with me a little.
Once we've finished talking, I'll fight you immediately.
Someone of your caliber should be able to wait a little while while your betters converse, surely?"
Small fry... he called me?!
Don't mock me—I'll tear you apart!
...But I couldn't quite work up the anger.
It was true—by the standards of the Seven Great Powers, I was undeniably small fry.
Maybe it was because I'd been hyped up so much lately that this actually felt refreshing.
"..."
I didn't want to wait. He might just be stalling for time, and I wanted to win quickly so I could go support the others.
Still, I took a step back and glanced at Sandor.
He hadn't moved—same as Alexander, he was holding still.
Without him fighting alongside me, I couldn't win on my own.
"Fine."
Sandor shrugged and stepped forward.
"So... do you have business with us, stranger?"
"Stranger? I, who know you better than anyone, am a stranger?"
"I believe this is our first meeting?"
"Our first meeting was when I came out of Mother's womb, Father."
What was Sandor playing at?
"Father, give it up already.
I can tell it's you no matter how ugly that helm is..."
If I could see through
"You are North God Kalman II. Alex Ryback!"
"Alexander-kun, you're supposed to say that after I remove my helm."
Even as he said that, Sandor sighed and took off his helm.
A black-haired middle-aged man.
Alexander had black hair too.
Looking at them again, the resemblance was striking.
"When I defeated you and you proved to be a worthy opponent, I removed my helm so I could at least see your face at the end..."
"That doesn't matter! I thought you were dead long ago... What have you been doing all this time!?"
"...Taking on disciples and teaching martial arts as I pleased.
Recently, I was moved by Her Majesty Ariel of the
"Disciples? You—after entrusting me with this sword and abandoning the North God Style—took on disciples!?"
Anger surfaced on Alexander's face.
I didn't know what had happened between them, but Sandor's words had struck a nerve.
"Alexander-kun, I didn't abandon the North God Style."
"Liar—you don't even carry a sword!"
"Hmm."
Sandor raised the staff he was holding.
A rod made of metal.
"I actually think this makes me stronger, you know."
"Don't mock me! You think that stick is stronger than this Dragon King Sword!?"
"Not at all, Alexander-kun. That sword is the strongest in this world.
No one knows that better than I do—having swung it for a hundred years."
"Then why?"
"Because it's too strong, that sword."
In response to Alexander's question, Sandor answered.
As if it were obvious.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
As though imparting wisdom.
"Wield that sword, and no giant monster, no nimble beast, no heavily armored warrior stands a chance. I won countless battles and became a hero."
"But one day, I stopped and thought.
I had become a hero. But had anything really changed between before and after I obtained that sword?
Was North God Kalman II, Alex Ryback, truly strong on his own merit?"
"Once I started thinking that way, I could no longer fight as before.
Of course, I don't mean to deny my past battles or my companions... but I believed my days as a hero were over.
So I entrusted 'the North God as hero' to you, and I resolved to spread 'the teachings of North God Kalman I' instead."
It didn't quite land the way he'd intended.
I didn't fully understand, but basically, his father Alex (Sandor) had grown tired of fighting, relinquished his symbolic sword, and set out to spread the style.
His son Alexander, for his part, seemed furious about it.
Well, I could understand that.
Being suddenly burdened with something so heavy, and then having your father disappear—of course you'd be angry.
"And the result of that was that Oubert? That eccentric faction?"
"One of the paths shown by North God Kalman I."
"I don't recognize the eccentric faction. That's not the North God Style."
Alexander shook his head without bothering to hide his displeasure.
Oubert, huh...
Indeed, that man hadn't been a swordsman.
He'd been a ninja.
"It's not even swordsmanship!"
"North God Kalman I used a sword, but there's no need to be fixated on one."
"Is that why you use that stick?"
"Exactly. With this, I can feel myself growing stronger. And when people perceive their own growth, they grow even stronger."
"...I don't understand."
Alexander looked disgruntled.
He was still young, perhaps. When he'd committed himself to something, he couldn't accept being told otherwise.
"So, Alexander-kun. Let me ask you in return—why are you here?"
"I've come to defeat
"Ambitious. I'm proud of you as your father."
Sandor smiled as he praised Alexander.
Sandor?
I don't mean to deflate your pride, but you're on our side, right?
You're not about to say "Then I'll help" and turn on us, are you?
"Though I'll be your opponent this time, if you defeat me magnificently and go on to challenge Orsted, that would be something."
"Naturally. Even if my father is my opponent, I, North God Kalman III, will earn a reputation to be proud of."
A reputation to be proud of—what did that even mean?
There was a part of me that thought that, but when your father and family were that great, it made sense to care about such things.
As for me, I couldn't exactly cheer him on.
"That's not all. I'll exterminate the demon Supard tribe!"
"Hmm? The Supard tribe aren't demons, you know. You've been to their village once—you saw for yourself."
Sandor tilted his head, and Alexander nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That doesn't matter. The Supard tribe are famous as demons. If I destroy them, my name will be passed down as a hero for all eternity."
"That's not what heroes do."
"Maybe not. But I can't afford to be picky about my methods.
Otherwise, I'll never surpass my father's deeds.
I'll never surpass the name of North God Kalman II."
"So surpassing my name is what it means to be a hero?"
"That's right!"
Sandor stared at Alexander, mouth half-open.
Then he bowed his head.
"I'm sorry, Lord Rudeus. I thought I might be able to persuade him, but this idiot son of mine is even more of an idiot than I thought."
"...It would seem so."
He seemed to be dancing to the tune of the word "hero."
He didn't want to take heroic actions and become a hero—he just wanted the fame, the adoration.
Everyone wanted to tell him that wasn't the way, but no one could quite find the words to say it wasn't.
"Let's stop him."
"Right."
Sandor donned his helm and raised his staff.
I positioned myself behind him, spreading both hands in a support stance.
Alexander glared at us with a sullen expression.
His way of doing things had been denied, he'd been looked down upon with contempt—his pent-up frustration was surely swirling into a rage with nowhere to go.
"...You think you can beat me, the wielder of the Dragon King Sword, with a stick and a novice baggage carrier?"
"Absolutely. I'll teach you a lesson."
Sandor declared with utter confidence.
The word "lesson" snapped Alexander's last nerve.
"Don't underestimate me!"
The battle between North God II and North God III began.
--- "GRAAAH!"
Alexander struck first.
He swung the greatsword effortlessly with one hand and slashed diagonally at Sandor.
"HAAAA!"
Sandor deflected the overwhelming mass with his staff.
Alexander's stance faltered—but he wasn't exposed.
With terrifying balance, he shifted his body and struck at Sandor again.
Sandor moved as if he'd anticipated it.
He dodged Alexander again as the younger man came at him like a storm, spinning as he attacked.
And while dodging, he used leverage to sweep Alexander's legs.
Alexander's stance was instantly broken... no.
Alexander's body launched past Sandor as if flying, then landed on the ground at speeds that shouldn't have been possible.
Impossible movements.
But I knew them.
This was the ability of the Demonic Sword, Dragon King Sword Kajakt.
...Gravity manipulation.
"YAAAAH!"
But Sandor was prepared for it.
With his back turned, he dodged Alexander's blow, dodged, dodged.
Eventually, he gradually shifted his orientation to face Alexander head-on.
Alexander's strikes were not so easily dodged.
With each step forward, the ground was gouged open. The shockwaves of his slashes sliced through massive trees, which groaned and toppled.
The vacuum waves generated were sharp enough to slash the cheeks of someone standing at a distance—me.
But none of those blows reached Sandor.
He might be retired, but he was still the North God, however unofficially.
He continued to dodge Alexander's slashes with perfect composure.
Alexander's movements, with their gravity manipulation, were boundlessly free, acrobatic, and unpredictable.
And on top of that, Sandor wasn't standing still either.
To the eye he seemed perfectly motionless, but he was subtly shifting his body bit by bit, seizing favorable positions.
So this was a battle between North Gods.
The speed wasn't particularly fast.
Perhaps from training with
I could see them, but the density was too high, prediction too impossible, and finding an opening for support fire too difficult.
"OOOOH!"
"TAAAAAH!"
Even so, they were noisy.
No time to think about that.
I steadied my breathing and watched their movements closely.
If they were evenly matched, a single intervention from me could tip the scales.
Their movements were hard to predict even with Foresight Eye.
But Alexander aside, I could read Sandor's movements.
They were minimal, easier to predict compared to Alexander's.
There was a pattern.
Go right, go left.
When the opponent circled behind, follow this flow...
"There!"
I fired a rock cannonball.
The rock cannonball flew straight with a sharp whistle and struck Alexander.
No—not straight, and not a direct hit.
It was deflected.
It gouged through Alexander's armor and vanished into the depths of the forest.
But Alexander's stance was broken.
"HAH!"
Seizing that opening, Sandor's strike slammed into Alexander's solar plexus.
"Gu—!"
But Alexander leaped with a grunt, coming straight at me.
Fast!
"Don't get in my way, small fry!"
<Sharp lunge. Downward diagonal slash> I watched with Foresight Eye and deflected with my remaining gauntlet.
"Ugh..."
The instant I caught it, tremendous weight slammed into my legs.
The gauntlet shattered. I dropped to one knee.
My left hand was sliced off...
Or so I thought—but a black arm caught the blade with a grinding screech.
Sturdy. The Atophé Hand.
"That arm...! Don't tell me that's Grandmother's!?"
"Lightning!"
With my other hand, I unleashed the magic I'd been charging—a bolt of lightning.
Purple lightning licked across Alexander's body.
Immediately after, I charged my left hand with mana to fire a point-blank rock cannonball at his face.
"Take this!"
But Alexander's movement didn't stop.
He arched backward like a shrimp, dodging my rock cannonball while spinning on one foot to slash at my legs.
I instinctively jumped to dodge.
But by then, Alexander had already recovered his stance.
A blow that would cleave my neck in two was bearing down on me.
"HAAAAH!"
At the last moment, Sandor burst in from Alexander's side and drove his staff through.
Alexander spun like a top and flew sideways... but gently, on a trajectory that defied gravity, he landed on the ground.
"...Hmph."
On the surface, he showed no damage.
The lightning didn't seem to do much either.
Was it the sword's power?
Or the armor's performance?
Or just sheer stubbornness?
Their training methods were different. Perhaps their very body structures were different.
Anything was possible.
"Am I going too easy? Maybe I should get a little more serious..."
Alexander said something like a frustrated fighting-game player, but the situation wasn't bad.
At this rate, we could win.
Sandor fought on the front line while I provided support.
If we landed one hit at a time, eventually the moment would come.
North God Kalman III.
A tough opponent, yes—but Sandor was strong too.
If they were evenly matched, the difference would be me.
I wasn't dead weight!
"This isn't good."
That's what I thought, but Sandor's words didn't sound reassuring.
You've got to be kidding.
We had the upper hand, didn't we?
Sandor had taken no damage.
I'd lost Zarith's prosthetic arm in that exchange, but the Atophé Hand had equal or greater performance.
We could still go on.
"He's conserving his strength for his fight with Lord Orsted afterward.
He'll gradually ramp up."
Ah, crap.
He'd been holding back this whole time.
He really wanted to treat me like small fry.
"How much longer until
"I don't know."
She said she'd let us know when preparations were complete, and it had been almost half a day already—I figured it should be soon.
As long as Eris and Zanoba hadn't been overrun and Roxy's position hadn't been breached.
"He seems significantly stronger than the last time I fought him. I may have bitten off more than I can chew."
Sandor said that without much confidence.
Don't say stuff like that—just do your best.
I'd do my best with support.
"Either way, we need to buy time."
"R-Right."
After a brief huddle, Sandor charged.
Alexander, as if in answer, ran to meet him.
"OHHH!"
"COME ON!"
And they clashed once more.
But just as Sandor had said.
On the surface, nothing seemed to have changed.
But Sandor could no longer deflect all of Alexander's strikes.
Each time he received one, his stance was gradually disrupted.
The level of Alexander's slashes was changing.
The appearance was the same, but the weight was different.
If Sandor fell into a disadvantageous position, my rock cannonballs wouldn't find their mark either.
Deflected, dodged, or evaded.
That was becoming more and more frequent.
"..."
I stopped firing rock cannonballs.
Instead, I used magic to manipulate the earth.
First, I'd put a stop to those erratic, bouncing aerial maneuvers.
That would ease the burden on Sandor and broaden our tactical options.
As a result, my rock cannonballs should start landing again.
For that— "Earth Spear!"
I created four pillars of earth surrounding the two fighters.
And on top of that— "Earth Net!"
I formed a net of earth roughly fifty centimeters above Sandor's head.
If I cut off the space above, those erratic jumps would— "Annoying!"
It was shattered in an instant.
No good.
"What's wrong, Father! Is that all you've got?"
No good.
Sandor was being pushed back steadily.
It wasn't a difference in technique. It was unmistakably a difference in weapons.
Every time the Dragon King Sword landed a blow, Sandor's staff bent further.
I scrambled to support with rock cannonballs, but they were deflected as before.
Moreover, he'd apparently decided to ignore me—he started disregarding the rock cannonballs entirely.
This was bad. We couldn't even buy time like this.
We'd lose by attrition.
"GAAAH!"
That was when it happened.
From Alexander's flank, a shadow came hurtling in like a comet.
The red-haired woman brought both swords down on Alexander with everything she had.
Alexander caught the blow, but Sandor's strike sent him flying backward.
The red swordsman pressed the attack.
After landing with a gravity-defying recovery, Alexander immediately swung his greatsword.
The red swordsman couldn't match it.
"Hmph...!"
But behind her—the green warrior who'd followed like a shadow—deflected the slash.
"GRAAAH!"
The mad dog snarled.
A sword flash streaked toward Alexander's neck, but was deflected by something invisible.
The blade struck his shoulder, but surprisingly sturdy armor stopped the blow, reducing it to a scratch.
The mad dog didn't overcommit.
Seeing the attack fail, she leaped back.
An instant later, Alexander's greatsword swept through where she'd been standing, cutting away a few strands of hair.
The distance widened.
Red hair and green hair stood with their backs to me.
"Rudeus, we kept you waiting!"
Eris glanced at me and said.
They'd come to save me.
If I'd been a maiden, it would have been love at first sight.
Sweep me off my feet! Ravage me!
"How could they..."
While I was lost in that maiden fantasy, Alexander wore a look of surprise.
No—shock, perhaps.
"Could it be that Gal Farion has fallen?"
I looked at Ruijerd for confirmation. He nodded.
You're kidding.
Eris and Ruijerd—they'd defeated the Sword God?
"Even accounting for the fact that she'd retired from the Sword God's seat, to be defeated so easily... it seems I overestimated her."
Alexander spoke with arrogance, but his expression was pained.
Come to think of it, when he'd thrown me into the valley, he and Gal had seemed to get along well.
"It was only a short time... but she was a good person..."
Alexander's aura shifted.
It was different from before.
The intent to hold back and win cleanly was gone.
"I thought I'd quickly scatter the two of you and then face Orsted together..."
Alexander dropped into a deep stance.
Something was coming.
Sensing the overwhelming pressure, Eris and Ruijerd both lowered themselves into defensive positions.
But if he was going to get serious now, it was too late.
Alongside Sandor and me, there was Eris and Ruijerd.
Four against one.
Even if he was the strongest swordsman among the Seven Great Powers...
"A sword in my right hand."
The sword in Alexander's right hand rose, its tip pointed skyward.
"A sword in my left hand."
Alexander's left hand gripped the sword's hilt.
Two-handed grip.
The greatsword he'd been wielding one-handed until now—he held it with both hands.
Was this his true fighting style?
"Get back! Run!"
Sandor shouted sharply and leaped to the side.
But it was too late.
"With arms that bring forth, I shall take the life that is and shall be, and bring about singular death."
Alexander raised the Dragon King Sword high above his head.
"My name is Alexander Ryback of the North God Style."
By the time I realized it, my body was floating.
Not just me.
Eris, Ruijerd, even Sandor who'd leaped to the side— Every one of us was suspended in midair.
Of course, every fallen leaf, every branch—all of it was floating in the air.
The Dragon King Sword's gravity manipulation.
I couldn't descend, and I couldn't move upward.
No matter how I flailed my arms and legs, I couldn't retreat even an inch.
Completely defenseless.
I could see Alexander gathering power through his entire body.
"Now I shall avenge my ally!"
This was bad.
By the time I thought it, my body was already moving.
I poured mana into both hands—a shockwave.
I blasted Eris, Ruijerd, and Sandor far away.
Immediately, I pulled the remains of Zarith's prosthetic arm drifting nearby toward me, aiming the mana-absorbing stone at its tip at Alexander.
Whatever had existed between the sword and me vanished, and I landed on the ground.
I hurled the mana-absorbing stone aside and poured every last drop of mana I had into both hands.
Straight at Alexander, who was bringing the greatsword crashing down— "Secret Technique: Gravity Sever."
A deafening explosion and a blinding flash.
————My consciousness cut out.
--- When I came to, I was in a tree.
I'd been blasted away.
I knew because my leg was broken.
The leg armor had shattered completely, and my leg bent at an unnatural angle.
Not just my leg.
Most of my body armor was destroyed, and intermittent pain lanced through my chest.
My ribs were probably broken.
"Keho... ah, ah..."
I coughed and pain shot through my chest, but not enough to prevent me from speaking.
I immediately cast healing magic to mend my injuries.
"How far was I blown—wha—!?"
As I tried to sit up, the tree branch supporting me snapped.
Crack, crack—the sound of splintering wood as I tumbled a considerable distance.
But I still hadn't hit the ground.
I'd been blasted quite high up.
Just as I realized that, I saw the ground below.
There was a crater.
A crater some twenty meters in diameter.
It hadn't been there before.
It had just appeared.
Probably from that last attack.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
I glanced around.
Over toward the Supard village, something had flashed.
A familiar glow.
"That's—wha—!?"
Another branch broke.
This time I fell all the way to the ground, bouncing off branches along the way.
"Ow..."
I'd just finished healing magic, and here I was injured again.
I quickly recast healing magic.
First things first—I needed to assess the situation.
What happened to Eris? Ruijerd? Sandor?
And Alexander?
"!"
As I thought that, I stood up—and realized someone was right in front of me.
I flinched and took a fighting stance.
But the figure before me was no enemy.
"Sandor!"
"...Could you spare some healing magic for me too?"
He was covered in wounds.
His armor was half-destroyed, his helm shattered, and blood streamed from his head.
His left arm hung limp at his side.
"Of course."
I placed my hand on him and cast healing magic to mend his injuries.
"Thank you."
"How are Eris and Ruijerd?"
He'd barely finished thanking me before I asked about the two of them.
If Sandor was this banged up, Eris and Ruijerd couldn't have gotten off cleanly either.
"They're lightly injured. Thanks to you creating distance, it wasn't too bad.
They shouldn't need healing magic.
Though over there, they're still unconscious."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"So what about North God Kalman III?"
"He seems to have assumed he'd beaten us and gone on ahead."
"He didn't go in for the kill?"
"That last technique was the North God Style's ultimate secret technique. He probably didn't think it was necessary."
Same as when he'd thrown me into the valley—there was something he kept overlooking.
I'd survived because of it, but still.
He'd gotten through.
He'd gotten through to Orsted.
Orsted would surely win.
He'd fought Alexander with the Dragon King Sword in previous loops—he must have at least experienced it once.
On the route, if there was no necessity, he wouldn't have sought out a fight—but just like when he'd effortlessly defeated Water God Reida, he'd surely cut Alexander down easily.
But that technique.
There were other people in the Supard village.
The Supard tribe who'd only just recovered from illness, Juri,
If Orsted took that sword technique head-on—or deflected it—to protect them, he'd be forced to expend considerable mana.
A defensive fight was harder than an offensive one.
If Orsted didn't protect everyone, it would mean their deaths.
"Sandor, can you still fight?"
"Are you planning to go?"
"It's not over yet. I saw a light from the forest just now. A summoning light. If Roxy's preparations are complete, I'm heading there now."
As I said that— From deep in the forest, a green-haired man came running.
Two of them. Both were warriors of the Supard tribe.
Not Ruijerd.
They spotted us and hurried over.
"Message from Roxy. The summoning was successful."
"Good."
I nodded.
"Then I'll go ahead and buy some time."
"Don't push yourself too hard."
"I understand."
After that brief exchange, Sandor took off.
"You two—take care of Eris and Ruijerd.
When they wake up, tell them to come provide support."
"Right!"
"You—I'll need you to guide me."
"Right!"
I entrusted Eris and Ruijerd to the Supard warriors who'd nodded, then ran alongside the other warrior toward Roxy.
I leaped over tree roots, crashed through bushes, and headed straight there.
My Magic Armor was destroyed, so I couldn't move very fast.
Actually—it seemed to have lost all function entirely; it was just heavy.
Halfway there, I stripped off the Magic Armor "Type-2 Improved."
I ran on, unburdened.
North God Kalman III was stronger than I'd expected.
But I couldn't pull back here.
This was the deciding moment.
"Rudeus...!"
I reached the destination.
Roxy wasn't there.
What remained were a Supard warrior and
Then— Everything was going according to plan.
"You're in a terrible state..."
Though healing magic had cured my wounds, my armor and clothes were in tatters—and Elinalise's eyes went wide at the sight.
But she quickly composed herself.
"Everything is ready."
Behind her.
There was a magic circle, clearly drawn in a hurry.
A magic circle that had already lost its glow.
It was the same as one of the ones drawn on the scrolls that had become useless in the Earth Dragon's Valley.
The scrolls had been made by Roxy Migurdia.
The magic circle had been crushed.
Crushed under the weight of a massive suit of armor placed on top of it.
That armor was a Magic Armor.
A backup, duplicated in case a Magic Armor was destroyed in battle.
There had been no room for it in the office's armory, so it had been left at the workshop instead.
The one and only trump card that had survived the destruction of the office.
"It's the Magic Armor 'Type-1.'"
Now, then—round two.