"Woooow...!"

The woman, her face half-hidden by a cloth worn like a veil, let out a cry of admiration.

The arena was in an uproar because of the swordsman who had been sent flying into the spectator seats, but that was no concern of hers.

The commotion was happening on the opposite side of the arena.

The princess tugged at the clothes of the man standing behind her like a bodyguard and asked.

"Sir Monde. What in the world was that? Was it magic, or swordsmanship?"

The red-eyed man the princess was staring at intently had already turned away as if he had no more business there, now pointing at the Second Prince's knight.

She could see black smoke billowing from his fingertips.

The man called Monde frowned.

"...I cannot say for certain."

The princess's eyes widened under the cloth that half-covered her face.

"Even you don't know?"

"No. Whether it's magic or swordsmanship, it should be manifested through mana as a medium, but I cannot feel any mana from that man."

The princess tilted her head.

"Then what is that? He sent that huge man flying with just two fingers. What kind of power is it?"

"I wonder... The only possibility I can guess at is that it's a form of black magic..."

"Black magic?"

In a broad sense, black magic was a term used to lump together things that deviated from conventional magic.

But in a narrower sense, it also referred to the sinister arts forbidden by the Holy Empire of Hilka, which followed the will of the midday sun god, Hope.

The chilling magic that commanded the dead.

Ominous, dark magic that exuded a wicked and malevolent aura.

"I don't feel the unique deathly energy—that is, the ominous aura—of black mages either. What in the world is that..."

Monde narrowed his eyes and studied the man closely.

"What is certain is that man is not Flanco."

"Then?"

Sir Monde's eyes shifted to the seat where the man had been waiting between matches.

There, two men and a girl were cheering enthusiastically for the man in the arena.

He didn't recognize the girl with the grass-green hair braided into two pigtails, but the two men... no matter how they disguised themselves, their faces were unmistakable.

Monde ground his teeth slightly and muttered under his breath.

"...Sherwood."

The princess's eyes widened.

"Sherwood?"

'A swordsman from Sherwood with blood-red eyes...'

A figure who carried a broken sword and had recently made a name for himself by causing trouble here and there.

The one who became the new owner of a Platinum Badge by single-handedly defeating the A-rank magical beast, the Hydra.

The new captain of Sherwood, who filled the void left by Guston of the Greatsword.

The man who was acting as the focal point, gathering the scattered pieces of disaster, Sherwood, back into one place.

"Ashuban of the Half-Sword."

"...!"

The princess's face was colored with shock.

"A-Ashuban of the Half-Sword? That man is?"

"It would seem so."

"..."

The princess fell silent.

Monde, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding, leaned down slightly to examine the princess's half-hidden face.

"...My lady?"

The moment he saw the unusual light in the princess's eyes, Monde felt his heart drop.

The princess muttered under her breath, her eyes sparkling like stars.

"Found him."

* * *

The Second Prince's knight, having received my provocation, glared at me for a moment before kneeling on one knee to the chubby Second Prince and speaking.

"My lord."

The Second Prince also glared at me and nodded.

The multiple layers of his chin fat jiggled.

Judging by his expression, he didn't seem to like me very much.

Did he think I was ruining the stage he had prepared?

Maybe it's because he's chubby.

The knight, having received permission from his less-than-dignified lord, strode onto the arena floor.

He stopped at a certain distance from me and stared.

"..."

"..."

I exchanged a look with the man for a moment.

He spoke first.

"William of Beneta, knight of His Highness."

I couldn't lose.

I introduced myself as well.

"Flanco of Pantyma."

William looked at me with a strange expression.

"Isn't it Fatima?"

"Ah, Flanco of Fatima. I misspoke."

"..."

William glared at me.

He seemed to be cursing me with his eyes.

"That's a lie."

"It's true."

"You are not Flanco."

"Then who am I?"

"A vile black mage."

"Oho."

William stared at me with a stiffly hardened face.

"You use strange techniques. It must be a type of black magic. Are you in league with those who cry out for the Dark Heaven?"

"As if. I'm their nightmare."

"Nightmare?"

"Are we fighting with our tongues? Enough talk, come at me. I'm a busy man."

William said in a resolute tone.

"Whatever it is, it will not work on me."

Screee—

William drew the sword from his waist.

It was a sword that was black from the scabbard to the blade itself.

As the jet-black blade was drawn high, tracing an arc as if to split the blue sky, gasps of admiration were heard from all around.

"That is the first of Ophosis's nine great swords, the Jet-Black Sword...!"

"It's also called the Black Iron Sword, isn't it?"

"Indeed, it's incredible!"

"Amazing! I can feel an extraordinary aura just by looking at it!"

At the nobles' reaction, William's lips curled up slightly in a smirk, and then, hup! he exerted his strength.

A black aura rose from the sword.

The sounds of admiration grew even louder.

"Ooooh...!"

"That is aura!"

"So that is true aura!"

The nobles were in an uproar.

"Hmm. Is that all it is."

I crossed my arms and closely examined the black aura that had bloomed on the black sword.

I began to think that it might really be the Jet-Black Sword.

Because that aura didn't seem like something he could produce with his skill alone.

If that was true, then the Jet-Black Sword had ended up with a poor master who couldn't even bring out half of its abilities.

William slowly lowered the black sword that had been pointing to the sky and aimed its tip at me.

"Draw your sword. Coward."

"Alright."

Screee—

I drew the sword from my waist.

Of course, it wasn't the half-sword I usually carried, but the longsword I had taken from Flanco.

It was a bit lighter than what I was used to, but it wasn't bad.

Just as he had done, I raised the sword high as if to pierce the blue sky.

"..."

But the cheers that had poured down on him were not heard for me.

Instead, only the cheers of Linda and Dofang, and the sound of Schmidt's applause, echoed somewhat desolately in the arena.

"Demon, you're so cool!"

"Haha, little brother! You've become quite the entertainer since I last saw you! Excellent! A fine sight!"

Clap, clap, clap, clap!

Yes, that was enough.

I pulled my lips into a satisfied smile and looked at the imposing William.

I briefly spread my ki sense to gauge his level from a closer distance.

In terms of mercenary rank, he seemed to be at least Gold rank.

Among them... no more than average?

He was decent, but... I questioned whether he was skilled enough to proudly declare himself the master of the great Jet-Black Sword.

Of course, depending on how he used that ki, he could be at the lower end of Gold rank, or he could rise to the upper end.

In any case, he was no match for me, the owner of a Platinum Badge.

The gap between Gold and Platinum rank is by no means small.

William, the master of the maybe-real, maybe-fake Black Iron Sword, spoke in a frighteningly serious tone.

"I will give you the chance to receive my sword."

Then he arrogantly flicked his sword.

"Come."

I flicked my sword tip in response.

"No, you come."

"Stop wasting words and come."

"I said you come."

A vein popped on his forehead.

"Do you not realize this is the last courtesy I can offer before I cut you down?"

"Ah, really? I didn't know."

"That's enough. I'm coming."

"No, I'm coming."

I immediately shot my body toward him.

To first feel the power of the black aura on that sword, I decided to clash with it without imbuing my own sword with any internal energy.

CLANG!

Indeed, my hand tingled.

"Hup!"

He swung his sword this way and that.

How should I put it.

It was a sword style with no distinguishing features at all.

It was as if it had no personality whatsoever.

How could it be this boring?

I resisted the urge to yawn as I clashed swords with him.

At least the aura on his sword was decent enough that I didn't fall asleep during the fight.

Clang! Clang-clang!

As we exchanged blows, I could see Flanco's sword starting to show signs of breaking.

Craaack—

It was the sound of a small crack forming on the blade.

It was the sword's scream, unable to withstand the power of William's black, burning aura any longer.

At the same time, our eyes met.

It seemed William had heard the sound too.

Judging by the way his lips pulled into a smile.

"What are you grinning at?"

"It is the sound of your foretold destruction."

I quickly kicked off the ground and retreated backward.

But William pursued me relentlessly, as if he had no intention of letting me go.

As he did, he swung his sword even more fiercely, trying to shatter poor Flanco's sword.

Clang! Clang-clang! Clang!

A sigh escaped me on its own.

'Good grief... what a pathetic fool.'

The way he was focused only on breaking the sword was truly...

It was like a carrot dangling in front of a donkey.

"Are you saying Flanco's sword is a carrot?"

"That's enough of your nonsense."

It was a moment that clearly showed his lack of combat experience.

Combat is not about breaking the opponent's sword; it's a game of being the first to stick a blade into the opponent's flesh and render them unable to fight.

Of course, if my sword broke, I would be at a great disadvantage, but by using the psychology of an opponent distracted by that, I could strike a gap and be the one to win.

This guy named William... it felt like he had never even killed a single magical beast, let alone been in a real fight.

It seemed he had only learned how to strike poses in front of nobles.

For a guy like this to be a prince's knight.

It was a passage that made me realize anew just how stagnant and rotten the royal court of Milgard was.

If the thing in his hand was truly the first of the great swords, then that great sword had met the most pathetic master possible.

But the equally pathetic nobles were shouting "Ooh" and "Aah," praising the Second Prince's knight.

"Indeed, what a magnificent aura!"

"That man is no match for him!"

"It seems his strange techniques from before do not work against Sir William's aura!"

"Haha, as expected of His Highness's knight!"

"As expected of the master of the Jet-Black Sword!"

As they said, I retreated as if I were barely managing to block his attacks...

When I reached the edge of the arena, I glanced back and let out a sigh.

A look of despair was an added bonus.

"Ah!"

It was a sigh meant to imply that I hadn't realized I had come this far, and at the same time, it was a psychological trap.

William fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

"Insignificant fool. Die!"

He swung his sword in a wide arc with the expression of a hero delivering justice.

I matched him, swinging Flanco's screaming sword to meet his.

KANG!

The sword broke.

It shattered beautifully into pieces against his black aura and scattered.

William, with a triumphant expression, pointed his sword at my neck.

"Your sword is broken. What will you do now? Try talking big like you did before."

I decided to give William some advice that would be his blood and bones.

"William. I'll tell you something important."

"What is it?"

"A sword can break as many times as it wants. As long as my spirit doesn't break."

"What kind of nonsense is—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a sparkling starlight bloomed from the broken sword in my hand.

"What!"

His eyes flew open.

I immediately struck his sword with my starlight sword.

CLANG!!

The black aura spreading on his sword wavered greatly.

It looked like a flickering candle flame.

Startled, William staggered back before hastily retreating.

I grinned and approached him, one step at a time.

"Sorry, but I'll be taking that sword. As I said just now, as long as you have an unbreaking, upright spirit, you don't need a special sword. Take this as a lesson."

Whooosh!

The Fleeting Shadow Steps reached its peak, and my clothes, hair, and the white band around my head whipped violently.

In that state, I took one step forward.

With just that, I was already inside his guard, along with the wind.

"...!"

As soon as I confirmed his eyes widening, I wrapped one hand in the White Snow Cold Curtain and grabbed his blade, while with the other hand, I gathered starlight in my palm and slammed its tensile force into his chest.

CLANG!

The air burst in a circle as William flew horizontally and collided with the spectator seats.

BOOM!

"Kyaaaak!"

"Ugh!"

Screams erupted.

In the center of that chaos, I raised the black sword I had taken high into the sky and declared.

"This sword is mine now. I can do whatever I want with it."

Then, I immediately shot up into the air.

I unfolded the Black Immortal Steps and ran across the sky, escaping the arena.

When I happened to look back, I saw black clouds scattering like an afterimage with every step I took on the air.

I grinned and muttered.

"Master, what do you think. Do I look like an immortal?"

The Heavenly Demon laughed lowly.

[An immortal as black as a storm cloud. It is surely the step of a Black Immortal.]

* * *

The people gathered in the arena stared, mouths half-open, at the red-eyed man running across the sky, his white headband fluttering.

He was lightly treading on the empty air as if stepping on invisible stairs or footholds, running as if in a mirage.

With every step he took, a dark, storm-cloud-like mist lingered hazily for a moment before scattering.

He looked like a ghost wandering the night, or a mysterious spirit of the night.

Or perhaps, like a grim reaper from the legends, manifested in the mortal world.

Even the guards stationed around the arena were too busy staring, dumbfounded, at the absurd sight to give chase.

"What in the world..."

Monde, the princess's guardian knight, who had also been blankly following the sight with his eyes, lowered his gaze at the urgent tug on his clothes.

The princess, her face half-hidden by the cloth, was hurrying him.

"Sir Monde, what are you doing?"

"Pardon?"

"What are you doing just standing there! We have to chase him!"

Monde stared blankly at the ghost of the night, which was receding into the distance, leaving faint smudges of dark clouds behind.

It was like a stain on the bright blue sky.

"...You want me to chase that?"

But the princess was adamant.

"Quickly, before we lose him! Hurry!"

Monde quickly looked to where his companions had been, but they had already vanished like a mirage.

Having no choice, Monde swept the insistent princess up into his arms and hurriedly chased after the ghost, which had already shrunk to the size of a small dot.

"Sir Monde! You absolutely cannot lose him!"

"...I'll try."

(End of Chapter)