An alleyway on a dark street, quite a distance from Royal Street.

A place where even the moonlight of the black night couldn’t reach erupted with countless collision sounds, bursting like fireworks and shattering the silence.

Three shadows danced in the darkness.

Each time they crossed paths, the air rang out like a lightning strike, and sparks flew.

Although the fight was two-on-one, the ones in the more pitiful state were, surprisingly, the two.

“Hrrgh!”

Phantos clenched his fist and struck out.

The power from those destructive muscles could smash boulders and punch holes through iron.

It was not something a bare-handed human could ever hope to imitate.

Yet Ruthers deflected it lightly and, with minimal movement, countered by going for Phantos’s neck.

His intent was to grab and twist it on the spot.

At that moment, a sword darted in from over Phantos’s shoulder, knocking Ruthers’s hand away.

Even though it was a bare hand against a sword, the sword was the one pushed back further.

But for a split second, Ruthers too had an opening, and Phantos immediately followed up with a rapid chain of strikes.

Swish-swish-swish.

Countless fine lines sliced through the air—slashes born from the claws surging from both of Phantos’s hands, all aimed at Ruthers’s body.

Ruthers twisted his body lightly at the sight.

One foot forward. The opposite shoulder slightly back.

That alone caused the lines to flow past him like water, scattering in all directions.

The combination of redirecting force and deflection—

Even without using his hands, just the barest of movements caused the attacks to glide away cleanly.

But Phantos neither admired nor regretted it.

From the start, those slashes hadn’t been aimed to strike a vital spot—they were meant to harass.

If they landed, great. If not, no matter.

Considering his opponent’s skill, plunging too deep into an attack would have been the worse choice.

Ruthers’s eyes flashed as he saw that.

As if something displeased him, his right hand shot forward—but Phantos hopped back in an instant.

Ruthers stepped forward, unwilling to let him escape.

That alone made his body stretch forward in a long stride, catching up with Phantos’s movement.

He intended to close the gap and twist his neck right then and there.

At that moment, Alex burst out from Phantos’s shadow, swinging his sword in a wide arc.

Ruthers had no choice but to pull back his outstretched hand.

Their coordination was so tight there was no opening between them.

It was a desperate struggle to avoid giving him even the slightest gap.

Alex and Phantos—

The two geniuses probably hadn’t worked together for long, yet they moved like one body.

Combining their strength produced more than twice what either could muster alone.

While he felt a strange satisfaction and joy at that, a part of him also felt a rising unease.

If I leave them like this, it’ll be dangerous.

He had always thought them exceptional, but the more they clashed, the more that feeling grew.

As time goes on, their offense and defense are getting sharper. Their responses are growing more composed.

From the very start, Alex and Phantos had been fighting him with everything they had.

They had to—otherwise they would die. But what was strange was how that momentum was snowballing as the fight went on.

They’re not pulling out some hidden trump card. These two... are growing stronger through the fight itself.

Getting stronger in real time.

Of course, Ruthers knew they must have already grasped the key to reaching the next stage before this.

But normally, even after realizing such a thing, it took considerable time to make it fully one’s own.

Some never managed it in their entire lives, even after finding the key.

These two were different.

Here and now, while breathing and fighting, they were still growing.

Paaang—!

With an air-shattering burst, Phantos’s fist once again aimed for Ruthers’s face.

Ruthers tried to deflect it lightly again, but the instant he touched it, he could feel it—

It’s heavier than before.

This time, Ruthers had to push back with more strength to repel Phantos.

And even though his blow missed, Phantos seemed to realize the difference too, judging by the provocative gleam in his eyes.

“Heh-heh-heh-heh.”

Ruthers laughed.

Watching the two steadily grow stronger in this fight—it felt like a fire was lit in his chest.

He never thought a pair of green youngsters so far below him in skill could make him feel this way.

Part of him wanted to keep this contest going.

But knowing he couldn’t, Ruthers felt both joy and regret in that moment.

“If I were just a little more selfish and childish, this would be better.”

Alex and Phantos both felt their hair stand on end at his muttered words.

Ruthers let the bread bag in his hand drop to the ground with a thud.

In his focus on the fight, he’d forgotten—

Up until now, Ruthers had been fighting the two with only one hand.

Now, he was casting off that restriction.

Clenching both fists, he lowered his upper body and spread his legs wide.

“I’ll end this quickly so there’s no regret left.”

With that, Ruthers vanished from where he stood.

Alex lost track of his movement.

In that moment, Phantos moved—crossing his forearms in a guard, stepping in front of Alex as if to shield him.

It wasn’t thought, but the beastly instinct of a beastkin that drove him.

An instant later, Ruthers’s fist slammed into Phantos’s forearms.

Unlike before, this was not a light strike, but a full-powered blow.

Crack. Crunch.

Phantos’s arms were forced back violently. There was even the sound of something breaking in the forearms that met the fist.

Even wrapped in Spirit, it was the same.

Phantos gritted his teeth and braced his legs to endure, but his body was still being mercilessly driven back.

At that moment, Alex swung his sword.

With the time Phantos had bought, he couldn’t miss this chance.

Aura flared along Alex’s blade, dyeing the surroundings a dim ash color.

Ruthers watched with cold eyes, then rotated his hands lightly.

Unlike an outward redirect, this time it was the complete opposite.

The aura-laden slash seemed to spiral in as if sucked toward a single point.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Not just blocking an aura-imbued attack bare-handed, but pulling it in at will?

Even if he was the Empire’s greatest swordsman, wasn’t this going too far?

But even as Alex thought that inwardly, he didn’t let go of his sword.

The sword tip, caught in the vortex, was dragged by the massive force—

That force traveled down the blade, affecting his hands and arms too.

Letting go here would mean certain death at Ruthers’s hands.

He couldn’t stop the flow—so Alex decided to ride it instead.

He spun his body like a top in the same direction his sword was twisting.

With the world spinning sharply around him, Alex slashed precisely at Ruthers’s heart.

A counterattack that could only be pulled off under extreme tension and focus.

But before it could land, Ruthers’s foot slammed into Alex’s abdomen.

Crunch!

Alex spewed blood from his mouth as he was sent flying back.

Almost in his place, Phantos charged in.

His forearms were swollen and mottled with deep blue bruises, probably broken, but he moved as if it didn’t matter.

Even with that overheated feral energy bearing down on him, Ruthers didn’t blink.

His hands blurred, leaving countless fist marks across Phantos’s upper body.

In less than a second, the number of blows was impossible to count.

Phantos’s eyes widened and he bit his lip—

Red blood trickled from between his lips.

But he didn’t fall. Planting his legs firmly, he endured.

Just as Ruthers was about to finish it, Alex—who had been knocked back—came charging again, aura radiating from him.

This time, he was moving nearly twice as fast as before.

Alex lowered his stance completely, skimming over the ground as he closed in, his sword driving up toward Ruthers’s chin.

The ashen-pointed blade looked sharp enough to pierce through anything.

It was the kind of strike that should have left him with fatal internal injuries, yet Alex moved faster than he had at any point before.

Ruthers turned his head lightly to the side.

The thrusting blade grazed his cheek.

Pik.

A small cut was etched into his face.

A single drop of blood slid down from it, tracing along his cheek.

Seeing that, Alex felt despair.

It had been a thrust made with everything he had—Phantos had even taken a blow to his own body to buy him the time for it.

It had been the perfect opportunity, one unlike any before... yet all it had achieved was a scratch on his cheek.

“Impressive.”

Ruthers offered honest praise to the two.

It had been so long since anyone had managed to wound him in earnest that he could barely even recall the last time.

Most, when faced with his skill, lost heart.

They would abandon their will to fight, even accept the death that was coming for them.

But these two were different.

Even with their guts injured, arms broken, and their muscles torn all over, they didn’t stop.

“If there were more like you in this world, it would be better for it.”

“...It’s this world that abandoned us.”

Alex glared at Ruthers with bloodshot eyes.

A storm of emotions swirled in that gaze—but not once did fear of death appear among them.

“Is that so.”

But now, it would end.

Ruthers raised his hand.

This time it wasn’t a fist, but a hand formed into a knife-like edge.

For someone at his level, a sword was optional.

With just this hand, he could take a man’s head as easily as cutting grain at harvest.

“Farewell.”

Even then, Alex did not resign himself.

His eyes, brimming with killing intent and hostility, never left Ruthers.

Ruthers saw much in that gaze, but he did not hesitate.

With a single swing, he could reap the man’s life like wheat in autumn.

“...”

But he didn’t.

From afar, something was hurtling toward them.

He saw a white light shooting toward them like an arrow.

In an instant, it expanded—

Not because the light grew, but because it was closing on Ruthers at a speed that could only be called supersonic.

“A deer?”

When he saw what was inside the light, Ruthers’s eyes widened.

It was a deer wreathed in white radiance—with golden antlers.

The deer slammed both antlers into Ruthers.

He grabbed hold of them with both hands, trying to hold his ground, but even his strength could not fully stop the immense energy pouring through them.

In the dark night sky over Rederbelk, a streak of white lightning tore across the heavens.

Passersby in the street below gazed up in shock, thinking a shooting star had fallen.

Kwahhh-boom!

The streak crashed into a nearby forest far from the city, triggering a massive explosion mingled with mana and throwing up a dense cloud of dust.

The trees swayed violently outward, scattering debris in all directions.

And yet, from within, Ruthers rose to his feet unharmed.

“That stung.”

Even after catching a headbutt infused with such dense mana in both hands, he dismissed it with a light remark.

In truth, his body bore no injuries at all—only his clothes were dirtied by the blast’s aftermath.

Even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off the deer as it emerged from the haze.

“Not an ordinary beast, I see. I don’t recall Rederbelk being a city where nonhuman monsters roamed so openly.”

But what drew his attention even more was the dark silhouette riding on the deer’s back.

A man cloaked in darkness, astride a beast of radiant light—

It was a rare pairing, and yet Ruthers instinctively knew.

“Yes... it’s you. You came to save those two, didn’t you?”

Ludger stared back at him silently.

Ruthers Wardot.

The first time he’d seen him in the capital, he’d thought him truly remarkable.

So much so that, at first glance, he had mistaken him for a sword standing upright rather than a man.

And now, his skill was such that even Alex and Phantos attacking together could be subdued bare-handed with ease.

And to think he could block Hans’s spirit-infused charge so casually.

That had been a desperate rush from Hans, eyes squeezed shut, for the sake of protecting his reluctant comrade.

Clumsy though it was, the spirit’s mana within it was nothing to scoff at.

And yet, Ruthers had stopped it bare-handed.

As expected... the Empire’s greatest sword. The strongest knight.

Ludger leapt down from Hans’s back.

The Ater Nocturnus shrouding his body roiled violently, as if sensing something from Ruthers.

Ruthers addressed him.

“You must care a great deal for your subordinates, to make such a dramatic entrance.”

Or perhaps, thinking of those two, they were worth the trouble.

Ruthers muttered that with a faint chuckle, his gaze fixed on Ludger—

Cold and probing, as though trying to see exactly what kind of man he was.

“So... why did you fight my subordinates?”

From behind the plague doctor mask, Ludger’s voice rumbled.

“What else? I deemed them a threat to the Empire.”

“And you still think so now?”

“Now? Of course.”

Ruthers’s eyes moved over Ludger and Hans in his spirit beast form.

A beast like that roaming the city, yet no one knowing? That ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ was no small matter.

It could mean that part of Rederbelk itself was in league with them.

Perhaps even the city’s mayor and nobles were involved—and if so, it was a far graver issue.

It meant such creatures had been striding openly beneath the Empire’s shadow.

In that case, there was no helping it.

Ruthers glanced around, picked up a broken piece of wood from the ground.

Testing it with a casual swing, he gave a satisfied nod, then fixed his gaze back on Ludger.

“To me, you don’t seem like someone I can deal with bare-handed.”

Yet even with just a wooden stick, the pressure radiating from him was enough to take one’s breath away.