The lower jaw of the Red Dragon.
A canyon with just a single road stretching through it.
It wasn't straight like the Holy Sword Highway.
But it was still a single road with no forks.
A territory between borders, belonging to no country.
Once you passed through here, you'd be in the
He had simply walked there.
From the other end of the single road.
Silver hair, golden eyes, no armor to speak of—just a crude white coat made from some kind of hide.
Neither on horseback nor in a carriage. He had simply walked.
He was a man.
My impression was, at best, "He's got a creepy look in his eye."
He had truly terrible sanpaku eyes, this man.
But more than that, what caught my attention was— At his side.
A single girl with black hair.
I felt like I'd met her somewhere before, but I couldn't remember.
Pure black hair was rare in this world.
Even what looked black would, on closer inspection, turn out to be a dark brown, or slightly grayish.
I wasn't the type to remember people by hair color, but someone with truly black hair would be memorable enough.
And yet, I couldn't place her.
There was a reason this girl stood out so much.
Her face.
A mask was attached to her face.
You could say it had character, or you could say it had none.
It was pure white, with nothing written on it, and no decorations of any kind.
If I had to compare it, it was like a Dirty Mask.
But it was conspicuous.
In this world, nobody wore a mask like that.
It probably wasn't fashion.
"......!!"
Not because I was captivated by the girl exactly, but— I failed to notice that at this moment,
Every step the man took closer, her expression grew sharper, and her hand on her sword's hilt turned white from how hard she was gripping it.
When the man spotted us, he tilted his head.
"Hmm...? You—are you perhaps from the Supard Race?"
The man's sanpaku eyes narrowed.
Seeing that, a question arose in my mind.
Ruijerd currently had no hair and was concealing the jewel on his forehead.
How had the man known?
I couldn't figure it out. Was he emitting some kind of Supard stink that I couldn't detect?
While pondering this, I turned to Ruijerd.
"An acquaintance of yours...?"
My question trailed off midway.
Ruijerd's face was different.
Unrecognizably different.
All the color had drained from his white skin.
Cold sweat streamed down him, and the hand gripping his spear trembled violently.
This expression... I'd seen it before.
Fear.
"
Ruijerd's voice was shaking.
Bewildered, I nodded silently.
Eris's face had gone bright red, and she looked ready to explode.
Her hands and feet were both trembling.
Was she afraid?
Partly, yes—but more than that, Eris held hostility toward him.
But I didn't know this man.
Had the two of them encountered him at some point when I wasn't there?
For now, I decided to watch how things played out.
"Hmm? That voice—Ruijerd Superdia, is it?
With no hair, I couldn't tell at first. What are you doing in a place like this?"
The man closed the distance with casual ease.
Ruijerd leveled his spear.
I didn't understand.
Why was Ruijerd so wary of this man?
I didn't get it.
Since the two of them were afraid, I activated my demon eye, just in case.
Honestly, I did it without thinking much of it.
<The man's image was blurring, overlapping in multiple layers> It was so blurred that his outline was indistinct.
What the hell is this?
"Hmm? The redhead over there—Eris Boreas Greyrat?
And the other one... who's that? Oh well.
I see. You've read the situation, Ruijerd Superdia.
You're one who loves children, so you must have escorted these two—who were transported to the Demon Continent by that teleportation incident—all the way here."
Eris gasped in a stunned voice at the man's knowing nod.
"How—how do you know my name?!"
Her words left me even more confused.
He was someone she didn't know?
First meeting?
Then again, this was Eris—she might well have forgotten him.
That said, silver hair was almost never seen in this world.
Between those distinctive sanpaku eyes and whatever uncanny sensation that only Eris and Ruijerd seemed to feel— If they'd met even once, surely he'd be memorable.
"Who are you?! How do you know my name?!"
Ruijerd thrust his spear at the man.
So he wasn't an acquaintance of Ruijerd's either.
Both Eris and Ruijerd claimed not to know the man.
I didn't know him either.
And the man didn't know me.
But the man knew Eris and Ruijerd.
Well, that much was fine.
Ruijerd was famous.
His name wasn't particularly well-known on the Central Continent, but on the Demon Continent, plenty of people knew both his name and face.
As for Eris— A beautiful redheaded swordswoman—that kind of description could easily hit the mark by pure guesswork.
But that wasn't what was strange.
What was blatantly strange wasn't something like that.
It was his demeanor.
The difference in warmth, or temperature, perhaps.
The man's attitude and theirs were worlds apart.
The man's demeanor was extremely friendly.
His voice, if anything, carried the joy of unexpectedly running into an old friend.
Ruijerd, on the other hand, looked ready to attack at any moment.
And yet, he held back.
Despite clearly viewing the man as an enemy, he didn't launch an attack.
I didn't understand why.
Even Eris—who always made the first move—was frozen in place.
It couldn't just be because Ruijerd had told her not to move.
"Funny place to run into each other... but you look well. That's good."
The man stared at Ruijerd, who had his spear leveled at him, then eventually laughed self-deprecatingly and took a step back.
The masked girl murmured softly upon seeing this.
"Is that okay?"
"It can't be helped, given the circumstances."
They exchanged a conversation whose meaning eluded me—a conversation with missing subjects— "I'll be going now."
The man slowly walked past us, barely an arm's length away.
The black-haired girl followed after him.
Ruijerd didn't take his eyes off him.
Neither did Eris.
"You'll find out about me... eventually."
The last thing he said, almost as an afterthought.
Ominous words.
This man knew something.
I felt it instinctively.
There was something about him that reminded me of the Human God.
"Wait!"
Before I knew it, I'd called out.
The man turned around.
An expression of surprise.
And Ruijerd and Eris were both staring at me with shocked looks.
"What is it? Who are you?"
"Oh, sorry. Rudeus Greyrat."
"I've never heard of you."
Well, we'd never met.
"
"Before that—aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
"Hmm... well, I suppose it doesn't matter.
I'm
Orsted.
A name I'd never heard.
All I could tell was that it was the same as the name of someone who kept apologizing in the afterlife.
I glanced at Ruijerd, and he clearly didn't recognize it either.
"Um—do you know those two?"
"No. We haven't met yet."
"Haven't met? What does that mean?"
"You don't need to know that. So—your father?"
His words were dismissive.
He refused to answer my questions, yet demanded I answer his?
Oh well.
I wasn't the type to get angry over something like that.
"
"...Hmm?
Paul shouldn't have a son.
He should only have two daughters."
How rude.
He did have a son who looked just like him.
A foolish son who'd gone off to work on the Demon Continent.
"...Hmm?"
At that, Orsted tilted his head as if noticing something.
He slowly approached me.
"Don't come any closer!"
"Yeah, I know."
But at Ruijerd's warning, he maintained his distance.
Keeping a bit of distance, he studied my face intently.
I met his gaze head-on.
"You don't avert your eyes."
"Your stare is terrifying, so believe me, I want to."
"Hmm. So you don't feel fear?"
The man's brow furrowed.
"Hmm. That's strange. I have no memory of meeting you."
Neither did I.
First meeting.
I'd never even heard the name Orsted.
I didn't recognize his face.
And he kept saying incomprehensible things.
Finally—finally—he uttered a word I could understand.
"You— don't happen to recognize the term Human God?"
At last.
At long last.
A word I could finally work with.
Let me be honest.
I'd let my guard down.
I'd been so careful not to let anyone hear that word.
But it had slipped out—spoken casually by this incomprehensible man— And I'd responded because I thought it was common ground, something even I could talk about.
Just like that. Without thinking.
"I do. In my dreams, this thing called
A vision struck me without warning.
<Orsted's thrusting hand pierces through my chest> Moving with the speed of teleportation, his hand bored through my chest.
I couldn't dodge.
One second wasn't enough.
"Rudeus!"
The vision vanished in an instant as Ruijerd threw himself between us.
The thrust was stopped by Ruijerd, and I fell backward.
Over Ruijerd's shoulder, the man looked down at me.
Cold eyes.
"So—you were the Human God's pawn."
A false accusation.
--- Ruijerd shouted.
"Run! Rudeus!"
"Out of my way, Ruijerd."
Ruijerd swung his spear.
I couldn't move.
There hadn't been time to run in the first place.
Ruijerd went down in seconds.
I could do nothing but watch silently as he was tossed aside like an infant.
Ruijerd was strong.
He should have been strong.
Eris hadn't managed to land a single hit on him during the entire journey.
Five hundred years of combat experience should have made him invincible.
He should have been a man with strength rivaling the
And yet, even I could see clearly that Ruijerd was losing.
With my demon eye active, I witnessed every moment.
In terms of time, perhaps ten seconds at most.
Orsted wasn't necessarily faster than Ruijerd.
But with each exchange—each time Ruijerd made a move—by the tiniest margin, he fell further behind.
That happened three to four times per second.
With every move Ruijerd made, he dug his own grave.
Little by little, he was being cornered.
Each attack he took threw him slightly off balance.
Each attack he launched put him slightly on the back foot.
Technique.
It could only be described as pure technique.
Even I could see it clearly—Orsted was whittling Ruijerd down.
Orsted was overwhelmingly superior.
Even from my perspective, it was obvious.
The craft was exquisite.
The minimum movement possible, executed at maximum speed, to neutralize Ruijerd.
If such a thing were achievable, this was what it would look like.
Orsted read Ruijerd's range perfectly, always staying just inside the effective reach of his spear.
Ruijerd tried to push him into his preferred distance with practiced coordination, but Orsted dismantled it mockingly—unbalancing him, creating openings, forcing him to defend against attacks that should never have landed.
He could have killed him, if he'd wanted to.
But he didn't.
He knocked him out.
Against Ruijerd, of all people, he'd shown restraint.
And then.
Ruijerd had nothing left.
No recourse.
Checkmate.
A fist drove deep into Ruijerd's solar plexus, then a second grazed his chin.
A third—designed to take Ruijerd's consciousness—struck his temple.
He spun twice and hit the ground.
Ruijerd didn't move.
He wasn't dead, but he wasn't moving.
Orsted could have landed a finishing blow with just one hit.
Two would have sufficed, probably.
But it apparently took three to strip Ruijerd of consciousness.
The speed and efficiency suggested that was the fastest way to neutralize him.
"Now then."
"Guh—guuuaaahhh!"
The scream wasn't mine.
It was Eris.
She leaped in front of me, drew her sword, and unleashed a flash at Orsted.
"...Secret Technique: 'Flow.'"
Against Eris, Orsted didn't bother with effort.
He simply caught her blade gently in his palm.
At least, that's how it looked to me.
That alone sent Eris spinning like a tornado and flying backward.
She was sent soaring out of his field of vision—like a character hit by a finishing move in a fighting game.
Eris had been outside his sight.
The instant Ruijerd went down, she'd launched a slash from his blind spot.
From my vantage point, I'd say it was a flawless strike.
An all-out slash with no thought for defense.
And for that, Orsted returned a single counter.
What exactly he did, I couldn't tell.
To my eyes, he merely placed a hand on the flat of Eris's blade.
The next moment, Eris went spiraling through the air.
No—I'd seen something like this before.
Paul had shown me once.
It was a technique of the Water God Style.
But it felt like a more refined version of that.
All of Eris's kinetic energy had been reflected back at her.
"Gahh...!"
Eris slammed into the rock wall.
Chips of stone scattered as she crumpled to the ground.
She was trained too—I wanted to believe she wasn't dead.
But she might have broken a few bones.
"Eris Boreas Greyrat.
Your swordsmanship has improved considerably. I knew you had potential, but... it's still rough."
"Nn... ugh..."
Eris groaned as she tried to rise.
Normally, I would have thought to cast Healing Magic on her immediately.
But I had other things to worry about.
His gaze had turned to me.
--- It happened in the blink of an eye.
In the blink of an eye, both of them had gone down.
I'd kept my demon eye active the whole time.
One second ahead—the vision was despair.
No matter what I did, I'd be counterattacked.
The me one second from now was having every vital point crushed.
Head, throat, heart, lungs...
I could see each one being destroyed, yet I could also see that he was still standing right there.
It didn't make sense.
If this was real, then one second from now, there would be five of him.
I couldn't move.
I realized that whatever I did would be pointless.
Unable to do anything, one second passed.
He was right in front of me.
Right in front of me, where I couldn't move.
A sliding movement that seemed to defy all laws of physics.
He'd appeared before me as if by teleportation.
Abruptly, like a poorly animated scene missing frames.
And when he arrived, he'd already completed his attack.
I'd seen this kind of movement before in some old fighting game.
A brutal game where every character had an infinite combo or an instant-kill combo.
By the time I realized it, I'd already taken the full force of his dual palm strike.
About eight of my ribs broke simultaneously.
There was impact.
But my body never flew backward.
I felt a crushing pressure, as if I'd been attacked from behind at the same time.
All damage was channeled internally.
My lungs were crushed.
"Gahh!"
Blood surged up my throat in an instant, and I vomited it.
"There's nothing like crushing a magician's lungs..."
The man said this to me, kneeling on the ground, as though it were nothing.
I looked at my blood spreading across the ground, and somewhere in my mind, I understood.
Crush a magician's lungs.
That kills their incantation.
In fact, I'd been cut off from Healing Magic at this point.
Of course, having your lungs crushed didn't just prevent incantation.
It also prevented you from sustaining life.
In other words, a fatal wound.
"Go die and tell the Human God this: 'The Dragon God Orsted will never let you live.'"
Dragon God.
Ranked second among the Seven Great Powers.
Orsted glanced at me, hunched over and clutching my chest.
Then he turned on his heel.
I saw that as an opening.
I'd already taken a mortal wound. Defeat was one thing, but death was imminent.
Why did I still think to fight?
Maybe because I could see Eris trying to stand in the corner of my eye.
Maybe because I thought that after confirming my death, this man would bother to finish off the two of them.
Either way, I launched a Rock Cannonball at him.
Why hadn't I used stronger magic?
I was capable of higher-level spells.
Even afterward, I couldn't explain it.
I'd probably just used what I was most comfortable with.
The hardest rock I could manage, at the fastest speed I could achieve, with as much spin as I could impart.
I thought the Rock Cannonball was surprisingly powerful—even to myself.
It flew toward the man across the extremely short distance between us, glowing red-hot.
<Orsted turned and shattered the Rock Cannonball with his fist> And it shattered.
Rock fragments scattered to the ground.
When they hit the earth, they rang with metallic clinks.
Orsted was looking at his fist.
"That was a Rock Cannonball... Impressive power.
To think this kind of magic could wound my body..."
The back of Orsted's hand had the skin peeled back.
A scratch.
It was useless. The Rock Cannonball couldn't hurt him.
I couldn't damage this man.
"I crushed your lungs, didn't I... Chantless magic?
Did you get that from the Human God?
What other powers has he given you?"
Orsted looked down at me, studying me.
He should have just finished me off.
He gazed at me the way you'd stare at a grasshopper with its legs torn off—coldly.
It hurts...
"Gahh...!"
I created wind magic and forced air into my lungs.
It made me choke violently.
It felt pointless, but I forced it anyway.
Then I filled my lungs to capacity and held my breath.
"Oh. Interesting use of magic. What's the purpose?
Why not just heal your lungs with Chantless magic?"
Orsted rested his chin on his hand, watching me struggle with evident curiosity.
In my fading consciousness, I tried to form a fireball with my right hand.
Fire magic grew hotter the more mana you poured into it, and expanded in scale.
If the speed and hardness of a Rock Cannonball weren't enough, then perhaps heat and explosive force...
"Forget that. 'Disrupt Magic'!"
That naive thought was swept aside in an instant.
The moment Orsted pointed his right hand at me, the mana gathering at my fingertips was thrown into chaos.
No matter how much I pushed mana out, it refused to take shape and scattered.
Even in my delirious state, I understood.
By interfering with the mana leaving my hand and disrupting its form, he nullified the magic.
I could probably do something similar myself, I thought vaguely.
My right hand was sealed.
But I still had my left.
With my other hand, I built a spell— and slammed a shockwave into the space between me and Orsted.
A heavy boom echoed, and Orsted was blown backward.
At the same time, I was sent flying in the opposite direction.
"Oh? You nullified 'Disrupt Magic'?
No, that's not it... It's a type of multiple incantation?
To do it chantless—what a talented one you are... Is that how it works?"
The man snapped his fingers with his left hand.
A small window, about fifty centimeters square, rose from the ground at his feet.
It was silver and ornately decorated with an elegant dragon design—a beautiful window.
"Oh. This is harder than I expected."
Ignoring it, I unleashed the most devastating magic I could manage at Orsted.
In my mind, I pictured a massive fireball. A mushroom cloud.
A nuclear explosion.
Gathering everything I had, I poured mana into the spell with brute force.
I didn't consider that it might engulf Eris and Ruijerd.
I'd already lost the capacity for such thoughts.
"Open—'Front Dragon Gate.'"
The man murmured softly, and the window opened.
The instant it did, the mana in my left hand—poised to become a spell—was sucked away.
The window frame cracked with a sharp snap.
At the same time, an explosion occurred near Orsted.
It was overwhelmingly smaller than I'd intended.
He'd avoided it easily.
"Immense mana reserves. A 'Front Dragon Gate' of this size couldn't contain it all.
You're on par with Laplace... as expected of the Human God's agent.
But why haven't you healed your lungs?
Are you trying to lure me into lowering my guard?"
At this point, my consciousness was on the verge of fading.
I had no judgment left.
I hadn't been able to breathe properly for some time.
The man continued to study me.
Our eyes met.
"Are we done?"
In a single instant— Orsted closed the distance on me, frozen in confusion as I was.
I had no moves left.
"Can you do anything besides magic?"
My magic was sealed, and my legs were rooted to the ground.
Before that overwhelming killing intent, there was nothing I could do.
In the corner of my vision, the window frame was disappearing.
But there was nothing I could do.
"Gahh!"
What came out instinctively was a meager roar I'd learned in the Doldia village.
"Oh...!"
My action made Orsted tense up.
But.
Of course.
It was just a mouthful of blood. It had no effect whatsoever.
"...Just mana? What are you trying to do?"
I had nothing left.
My magic was sealed, and in hand-to-hand combat, I stood no chance.
The only thing left was to grovel.
"Well, die."
But Orsted didn't even let me grovel.
"Gahh..."
A thrust, delivered at blinding speed, pierced straight through my body.
His fist had definitely gone through my heart.
A certain fatal wound.
A wound that even my Healing Magic probably couldn't heal.
"How anticlimactic.
The Human God... using someone who can't even channel Fighting God's Aura as a pawn.
What's the game...?"
He withdrew his fist.
It was slick with my blood.
I tried to stand.
My body wouldn't obey.
Against my will, I crumpled to the ground.
In the corner of my fading vision, I could see Eris raising her head and staring at me blankly.
Our eyes met.
"Ah... ah, Ru... Rudeus... Rudeus...!"
In my fading consciousness, I thought calmly.
Oh. This is bad.
I don't want to die.
I haven't fulfilled my promise with Eris yet.
Just two more years. I need two more years.
Then I could go in peace...
Healing.
Healing...
Gather mana. The wound is just one.
I can't incant. There's a hole in my lungs.
But I can do it—slowly, gather the mana.
It'll heal. It will.
I can't die yet.
"Waaahhhhh!"
Eris screamed.
A cry of anguish.
"Was he someone important to you?
I'm sorry, Eris Boreas Greyrat.
But someday—you'll understand too.
Let's go,
"Y-yes..."
The man departed at an unhurried pace with the girl in tow.
Eris couldn't stand.
Was it damage? Fear?
Or shock?
She could only scream— weaponless, reduced to crying and wailing.
"Ruijerd! Gilleen!
Grandfather! Father! Mother!
Therese! Paul!
Someone, anyone, please help!
Rudeus is dying!"
No good. My consciousness was fading.
You're kidding me.
Is this really where it ends?
I don't want to die.
I don't... want... to...
--- "Hey, Orsted—there's something I've been wondering...
Wouldn't it be better to keep this one alive?"
Just before my consciousness cut out, I thought I heard a voice like that.