Chapter 16

A flying red blade. A flaming slash was Van’s specialty. He rained heated Flame Slashes upon the enemy in succession. The fake Zeke dodged them with the same minimal movements as the real one. He had expected it, but how to land an attack would likely be the key to this battle. Perhaps because of impatience, anxiety, and tension, sweat appeared on the hand gripping his sword more than usual.

(So Mentel can only reproduce strength… It doesn’t seem like it can talk.)

It showed no sign of speaking. It had no emotion and only fought. Simple and easy to understand. …If it had reproduced even the real one’s barrage of abuse, Van’s mind would probably have gone insane. It was a blessing in disguise.

“Sorry, but I can’t afford to lose to a fake.”

He stabbed his flame-filled sword into the ground. Flames rising toward the heavens burst up from beneath his feet. Heat-Rising Flame Blade: Pursuing Dragons.

He gave it no opening to flee and no time to dodge. Multiple raging flame dragons manifested, jaws spread wide as though to swallow the enemy whole.

The black domain may have been a cage that trapped Van inside, but Mentel’s escape routes were limited all the same. If anything, it had cut off its own retreat.

(Zeke would know this technique. Looks like it isn’t a perfect copy of the real one.)

Zeke was swallowed by the flames. Van did not think it would end with that, but it should have dealt at least some damage. He did not lower his sword stance as he prepared for a follow-up.

(How should I attack next? Fire and ice. In terms of compatibility alone, I shouldn’t be losing.)

The flames vanished, and heat lingered in the surroundings. However, there was no smell of anything burning mixed in with it. Zeke’s figure had disappeared.

(Where is he…? Behind me, overhead—above!)

Van rolled away without looking and dodged the axe kick that came swinging down from above. He immediately stood up, but the fake Zeke closed the distance. A storm of consecutive martial-arts techniques, punches and kicks alike, came at him. Van somehow parried them with the flat of his sword, but he was forced onto the defensive.

(Each blow is fast and heavy…)

It was a barrage that could be mistaken for that of a proper martial artist. It was a technique Van could not imitate. He desperately clung on so he would not be overpowered.

(But… I haven’t spent this past month playing around!)

Zeke’s movements were certainly fast. Van could barely follow them with his eyes. His body was only somehow reacting—at least, that would have been the case for the old Van.

He stepped half a step back in time with the fist swinging toward his face. Reading an enemy’s movements would normally have been difficult for Van. But his opponent was Zeke’s mirror image. Its fighting style was efficient and perfectly accurate. That was why it was not hard to predict. Van’s sword and the fake Zeke’s sword clashed.

“I made you draw it… your sword.”

“…”

Zeke only drew his sword when he acknowledged that the enemy was at least somewhat worthy. It had been the same during the training in the Forest of Death. Zeke changed his combat style depending on his opponent, but when he used a sword, his strength leaped to an entirely different level.

The two locked blades.

For Van to find a chance at victory, he had to draw the battle not into martial arts or magic, but into a sword fight. He was not so conceited as to think he could win if it was with swords, but if there was a possibility, it was still with the sword.

(Today, I’ll beat you. I’ll win and move on to the next stage.)

The real Zeke was surely far beyond this. The fake Zeke had not yet shown its full depth, but the same was true of Van. If it was letting its guard down, he would settle this in one burst while he still could.

“Blazing Flame Dance!”

He continued swinging his flame-clad sword in succession. This time, it was Mentel’s turn to receive the storm-like sword technique. The sword reproduced by the fake seemed to have the same hardness as the real one, and metallic sounds echoed out. Then Van swung through, but the fake Zeke vanished like smoke.

“I told you, I can see them! Your movements!”

“…”

As he turned around, he parried the enemy’s sword. Without straining and without resisting the movement of his body, he stepped fluidly. Things Van had never been able to do before had become possible through his training with Zeke. His range of movement had widened. His options had increased. He had gained confidence. …It was all thanks to Zeke.

“Flame Whirlwind!”

The instant Van’s flames tried to bite into the fake Zeke, a high-speed chant began. A cold gust of wind snuffed out the flames, and Van was sent flying backward as well.

From ahead came a tingling pressure and killing intent. Surging mana and a freezing chill. There stood the existence closest to the real one, clad in cold mana like armor.

“…Yeah, I figured it’d come to this.”

The sweat running down Van’s body froze in the cold and scattered into mist. Inwardly, Van felt proud that he had forced it to become this serious. If he did not think positively, he felt as though he would break under the intense pressure. With the end of the opening battle, the true fight to the death began.

Van dodged the raining ice as he ran, sometimes blocking it with his sword while searching for a chance to counterattack. He had thought that if he could draw the battle into a sword fight, he would have a decent chance of winning, but Zeke had overwhelming ice magic.

Even if Van had the advantage in terms of elemental compatibility, he was poor at handling magic in the first place. When compared to Zeke, the difference in their mana capacity was like heaven and earth. Even so, that did not mean he could win with a sword. His opponent was superior to him in every way. He had understood that it would be a harsh battle, but actually fighting made him realize again how formidable it was, even if it was a fake.

(Its physique isn’t that different from mine, but its physical ability is so high because of the difference in mana… huh.)

Breaking the ground with a single fist and moving long distances with a single step were both made possible by outstanding body enhancement. It was not enough to simply possess abundant mana. Without the technique and talent to control mana, movements like that were impossible.

(Right. I don’t have talent. But…)

The power he had continued storing in his sword amid the fierce magic. After a large technique, an opening was bound to appear. Van’s only chance was to strike that opening again and again without wasting it.

(I’ve been swinging a sword since long ago. If it’s only the time I’ve spent facing the sword, I won’t lose even to you.)

He desperately endured while taking the storm-like magic filled with cold air against his body. It was not impossible to dodge, but it was also difficult to block it completely. In that case, he would use the opponent’s power. After all, a fierce wind could sometimes make flames burn even stronger.

(I’ll show you. My flames.)

The image was force. A counter technique that returned the damage received doubled. He would unleash it without a moment’s delay into the opening that was certain to appear after the magic was activated.

“Flame Reversal!”

He slammed it down from directly above, along with the enemy’s magic. It split the cold air, cut through the storm, and burned the caster to ashes with raging flames. It was a downward cleave with greater power than usual.

Even Zeke could not come out of that unscathed. The damage Van had taken should have been worth it. …With this—

‘Did you think it was over?’

It felt like he heard that. A chill and killing intent came from behind him. It might have been a coincidence, but simply reacting was already a good result. The sword he swung instinctively crossed with the sword swung by the fake.

—Crack.

How many times had this happened now? How many times had Zeke broken his sword? The last sword he had brought for training vanished mercilessly from the base. He barely avoided the follow-up attack. But Van no longer had a next move.

“I have to fight this monster… without a sword?”

The final test. As Zeke had said, it was not easy.

The blood that flowed down froze from the cold air. Van’s body also grew sluggish from the chill. He had desperately resisted, but if he remained entirely on the defensive, his limit would gradually arrive. Van had been cornered.

He did not have knowledge of martial arts, nor could he use magic like Atri. He tried to imitate Luke’s magic sword by watching and copying, but all it did was waste mana. His stamina was nearing its limit too. His thoughts were becoming disordered.

(It’s cold. My body’s freezing…)

It was pathetic, but Van’s combat style consisted only of swordsmanship. Of course, he could use the bare minimum of martial arts and magic, but in front of the fake Zeke, he was no different from an amateur. Now that he had lost his one and only main weapon, his sword, he had no means of counterattack left… except for one trump card.

(I have no choice but to gamble… At this rate, I’ll definitely be done in.)

He did not know whether he could use his full power without a sword. In the first place, he did not even know if he could control it, and the risk was huge. At worst, he would self-destruct.

(I’m not perfect like Grandpa, and I can’t become like him either. But…)

There was a world of difference between ending without doing anything and burning out as a result of taking on a challenge. …No, he would absolutely succeed.

—The image was scorching heat. A symbol of destruction that reduced everything to ash. The ultimate secret technique of the Freak style and the extreme point of flame. The raging fire called from hell burned his body.

Perhaps sensing Van’s change, Mentel grew cautious. It took distance and began chanting to finish him off with magic. …It would still take time to call it forth.

(Damn it… I can’t stabilize the power.)

It was his first time summoning it without a sword to use as a medium. It was adding more difficulty to an already harsh situation. …There was no point wishing for what he did not have. He had no choice but to continue like this.

He raised his arm. There was no sword in the hand he clenched. Normally, he would only have been able to envision failure, but for some reason, he felt no unease. For some reason, he was filled with confidence, even though he had not imagined for a moment that there would be powerful support.

At the same time as space glowed dully, a sword appeared. It was the sword he had admired and seen so many times. A symbol of an era, the proof of a Sword Saint permitted to be held by the strongest swordsman. Masfelt’s sword settled into Van’s hand.

(He certainly didn’t enter this domain, huh. That guy really is…)

Power surged through him. The flames stabilized. Unlike before, he understood how to handle the power as if he held it in his hand. Was this the power of the sword, or was it something else?

“—Flame Demon God!”

The god of destruction manifested while erasing the fake Zeke’s magic. A calamity clad in scorching flames that would turn everything to ash was summoned from hell. For the first time, Mentel showed agitation.

“Guh… My body’s burning.”

The flames had already begun eroding him. Normally, the standard method was to use it at the same time as healing magic or some other means of recovery, but naturally, there was no way Van could do such a thing. …He could probably last a minute at most.

(I’m not Grandpa. I’m different from Zeke too. That’s why…)

Complete control of the Flame Demon God was still difficult. His stamina was nearly gone, and he could not recover. That was why he would bet everything on the next instant.

The manifested Flame Demon God changed shape. It was different from Masfelt’s and from Zeke’s. The incarnation of flame, which had boasted a body large enough to make one look up at it, shrank until it was just large enough to envelop Van. If one were to describe it, it had the image of armor.

“This is my… Flame Demon God! —Enma Flash!”

An explosive blaze burned the world to cinders.

Van could not move for a while because of the raging storm of flames. The backlash from summoning a complete Flame Demon God for the first time had also left him with more damage than he had imagined. He could barely remain standing.

(The sword should have taken a burden too… but there isn’t a scratch on it.)

Masfelt’s sword was unharmed. If it had been any other sword, it would have been unable to withstand the heat and would have vanished. The technique itself should have failed as well.

He spread out enemy detection, but he could not clearly tell whether the enemy was alive or dead. Between the cold air and heat, Van’s senses were a complete mess. On top of that, the influence of Flame Demon God had left him in the worst possible condition.

“Haa…”

Van sighed, thinking one stage had come to an end. His face twisted at the great sense of accomplishment and the delayed pain that followed. He looked overhead and immersed himself in that feeling of accomplishment. What spread across his vision was the black curtain.

“?! No, wait…”

‘The domain Mentel creates will not vanish until either you or it dies.’

Zeke’s words echoed in his mind. At that time, Zeke had certainly said that. And now, Mentel’s domain still remained. There was only one answer that could mean.

“What are you, a monster…?”

Mentel stood up. The fake in Zeke’s form was still not dead. There was no doubt it had taken considerable damage, but it seemed more energetic than Van.

(Did it recover? No, if it did, it’d be strange for it to still be that battered.)

It seemed unable to reproduce sacred arts. It was not drawing out Zeke’s true power either. Even so, it still bore one part of Zeke’s strength. Its ability to endure a blow from Flame Demon God was real.

The fake Zeke showed no sign of chanting, as though it no longer intended to use magic. However, the mana poured into the sword it gripped was extraordinary. It intended to reap Van’s life with the next strike.

“…So this is how it ends.”

Van also poured in his mana. He gathered every bit of mana he had left into one arm. Cheap tricks would not work. He simply gathered mana with all his strength and desperation. There was no technique there, and it no longer had anything to do with the teachings of the Freak style. Van’s left arm was clad in absurd flames. Naturally, there was no way Zeke’s fake would overlook that. Van’s left arm was cut off.

(You’re strong. You’re way too strong.)

In terms of elemental compatibility, Van had been better off. Within the limited space of the domain, Van, who could more easily close the distance, had the advantage.

(You have so many things I don’t.)

Van only had his sword, but Zeke was a genius who possessed everything. Swordsmanship, magic, martial arts, and everything beyond that. Zeke existed far ahead of Van.

(It must have been painful, but you still came back properly.)

Zeke did not need to go along with this world’s circumstances. Rather, normally, it would not have been strange for him to side with Elzen. Even so, Zeke chose to protect. He did not run away.

(Because you’re someone like that, I wanted to become like Zeke.)

The kindness and resolve hidden behind harsh words. A hero who always overturned things in the end, no matter how adverse the situation. It was like looking at Masfelt.

(I won’t think this means I beat you. The real one isn’t this weak.)

The sword gripped in Van’s dominant hand. The greatest gift delivered by a certain meddler. Without this, Van would have been the one to lose.

Van’s left arm danced through the air. Just where would the abnormal flames poured into it escape to?

(I knew you would definitely notice. If you were Zeke’s fake.)

What Mentel had targeted was not Van himself, but his left arm. The impact of the Flame Demon God that had appeared moments earlier must have been far too great. That was why it had moved to erase it. It had been forced to move.

(You feared Flame Demon God more than you feared me. If you had pierced my heart, it would’ve been over—that was your reason for losing.)

Van’s left arm exploded in midair. There was no way the fake Zeke could dodge, and it was swallowed by the explosive flames at point-blank range. …At last, Mentel fell to one knee on the ground. It was battered so badly that anyone could see it.

(Zeke. You really are amazing after all.)

“Me, right up until the very end… it was all a gamble.”

The image was a flash. He loaded every last bit of his remaining mana into it and swung. This was truly his final blow. With the first Freak-style sword technique Van had ever learned, he cut open the future.

“Scarlet Sword: Draw Slash!”

The scarlet sword bisected Mentel.

There was no resistance, and the fake was cut apart without even raising a death cry. At the same time, the black curtain-like domain also vanished.

“Haa, haa… Is it over?”

The outside air and weak sunlight he felt for the first time in a while. He felt relieved at the sensation of returning.

“Hmph. You finally managed it after losing one arm. It is below a passing mark, but… well done, Van. I will make a special exception and praise you.”

Just before he lost consciousness, an arrogant voice reached his ears, along with a silver light he felt. It may have been Van’s imagination, but for now, anything was fine.

It was the end of the long training in the Forest of Death.