Beyond the eastern forest, the horizon was a burning orange. Perhaps it was proof that the battle between Theo and Laevateinn was reaching the next stage. Flames would sometimes rise above the clouds, while the forest itself was filled with an oppressive heat.

White Tower Master Orta sat idly on a stump in front of a cabin in a clearing as he watched the scene.

His lips, revealed under the white mask, suddenly parted. “In the last war, the empire lost two master swordsmen. The 3rd and the 6th, they were tough opponents.”

Though his emotionless voice didn’t betray it, Orta really meant it. If he looked back on the time he had encountered the 3rd Sword, he would get goosebumps. That man’s sword had reaped the lives of dozens of senior magicians. Nor would he forget the 6th Sword’s swordsmanship. The scars from his sword had never faded. It was the reason Orta had started using his mask.

Orta unconsciously reached up to feel the mask and smiled bitterly. “It’s been fifteen years, huh? Time flies.”

Even after magicians and swordsmen reached the master level, their lifespan only spanned two hundred years. The frequent wars between Meltor and Andras also made it difficult to reach the limit of one’s natural lifespan. Nevertheless, the battle between the magic kingdom and sword empire continued on, because people would always rise to fill the empty seats at the top.

“... But that’s enough reminiscing, I think,” Orta said as he got up. He turned to stare at the cabin in the clearing. More precisely, he was staring at an empty space between himself and the cabin. Orta seemed sure there was someone there.

“Won’t you show yourself, swordmaster? If you take one more step, I won’t be able to stay still.”

It was a confusing scene. There was nothing there, just an occasional breeze passing through. There wasn’t even a flicker of mana.

In this first place, this was the Great Forest, and under the surveillance of Elvenheim’s Ratatoskr. Hiding was an impossible feat even for White Tower Master Orta, who could use space magic. But at that moment, Orta’s index finger drew a line in the air.

Kaaang!

Flames burst into existence out of thin air. Two powers collided in the space between the empty air and Orta, creating a shockwave. The shockwave rippled through the air and suddenly deflected around the empty air.

At the same time, a shocked voice rang out, “Seriously?!”

The voice sounded like the echo of an echo. It was like a whisper in an ear and a shout in the distance. It was impossible to use the voice to find its owner.

However, Orta’s eyes flicked toward another patch of emptiness. As Orta’s eyes shone, the patch of emptiness began to distort.

“... That’s amazing. You… can you really see me?” A man slowly faded into view.

His face was covered by a mask like Orta’s, but was a deep inky black. An arming sword was belted at his waist, designed to be handled with one hand and suited for agile swordsmen.

For some reason, a masked man had been hiding in the forest of the elves.

As the tension rose, Orta decided to speak first. “3rd or 6th, which one are you?”

“I don’t know. Do all swordmasters have to belong to the empire? I could just be a passing swordmaster.”

“... How slippery.” Orta frowned at the man’s riposte.

It was highly likely he was one of the Empire’s Seven Swords, but there was no way to prove it. The existence of a master who hadn’t been exposed to the outside world was annoying in many ways. On the surface, there was a non-aggression pact between the two, and a third country wouldn’t be able to plan this in a few days. In this situation, Andras wouldn’t suffer any losses.

“You were the one who released Laevateinn.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Orta continued, unperturbed,“You released the monster and infiltrated the deepest part of Elvenheim using the Meltor delegation as cover. The chaos caused by Laevateinn would allow you to target the weakened neural network. Is your purpose the assassination of the high elves?”

The man stilled. He hadn’t said a word, yet his opponent had pierced through their plan in an instant. This man truly possessed a terrifying insight. However, his silence was an inadvertent sign of agreement, and Orta immediately understood that his thoughts were correct.

It’s a decent plan. The risk is low, and there is nothing connecting it back to Andras. Their only miscalculation was Laevateinn’s level of danger, but...

Andras probably didn’t completely understand what Laevateinn was. If they knew, they certainly wouldn’t have released a monster which would burn away all life in the material world. It would’ve been utterly self-destructive. Presumably, they had only anticipated that it would deal a near fatal blow to relations between Meltor and Elvenheim. If Elvenheim collapsed due to Laevateinn, that would be good. Even if it failed, it would cause massive damage, and they would have a chance to assassinate the high elves.

For Elvenheim, the high elves were not just symbols of the world tree, but a living breathing connection to it. At least four high elves were needed to keep the world tree alive. If it fell below that, the world tree would weaken and wane. If the world tree started to wane, Elvenheim’s very existence would be in jeopardy.

Orta’s voice grew dangerously quiet. “Who was it?”

“What?”

“Only idiots would use a knife that they don’t understand. The person who released Laevateinn and sent you here, I want to hear their name.”

However, the man just laughed and shook his head. “I don't know what you are talking about. And you, will you even be in a state to receive the answer?”

“I see.”

“Well, I did realize something.” The man casually laid a hand on his sword.

Wuuong-

The sword emitted a keening sound as the swordmaster’s frivolous attitude disappeared. His eyes sharpened as he activated the signature ability of every sword master, Aura. The swordmaster didn’t know how, but his opponent had penetrated his stealth and seen through the operation’s goals. He needed to silence them.

“You have to die here.”

A sword master’s flesh contained its own lethal power. Falling leaves crumbled into dust without warning as a white aura formed around the sword. The seemingly normal sword could now pierce through a dragon’s scales.

Despite facing a blade that could behead him with near casual ease, Orta fearlessly spread his arms. There were less than ten people who had ever witnessed the White Tower Master fight. His lips curled into a strange smile.

“It has been a long time since I’ve felt this tension. It is quite delightful.”

The swordmaster’s eyes narrowed. “... Are you going to fight like this?”

“That’s right.”

They were only separated by ten meters. It was barely half a step for a swordmaster. The man thought he was being made light of, and felt indignation bubble up under his black mask. He had thought to pay homage to the enemy who had fought against his seniors, but the sheer disrespect was irritating.

“I am familiar with the rumors. The White Tower Master, the runaway who doesn’t hesitate to show his back on the battlefield... You yourself claimed that combat isn’t your specialty, isn’t that right?”

“Well, your words aren’t wrong.”

“Is that so? Then...”

Die.

There were no warnings or hints. His ability, Disappear, removed him from the world. All signs of his existence, visual, auditory, olfactory, even tactile, were erased. His every attack was an ambush.

There wasn’t even a flutter of mana as he silently leaped forward and his sword swung through the air toward the elder’s neck.

Kiiing.

The masters landed gently on opposite sides of the clearing.

Fushu!

Red blood spurted into the air, as a steady stream started to flow down his neck. It was obvious that if the attack had been even one millimeter deeper, it would have been his brain, not his ear, that would have suffered the injury. He would have died instantly.

“Hmm, I’m still rusty,” Orta murmured as he turned to look at the swordmaster who was clutching what was left of his ear.

The swordmaster gritted his teeth. “... You, how?”

“Well, you weren’t wrong. I always preferred to explore space and time, so I never thought of combat as my specialty.” A cold light gleamed in the eyes that peered out from behind the white mask. “But I’ve never thought that I lagged behind in it.”

If one asked anyone in Meltor who the greatest magician was, they would name Blundell Adruncus. If they were asked about the most powerful magician, they would say Veronica’s name. If anyone in Meltor were asked about the most mysterious magician, they would cautiously mention the Yellow Tower Master.

This was why White Tower Master Orta was the most dangerous magician in Meltor. He would only ever battle an opponent he could kill. If he couldn’t, he would flee and find someone he could kill. In fact, it was Orta who had killed the 6th Sword in the last war, but no one had witnessed it.

As the black masked man came to terms with Orta’s strength, Orta smiled coldly.

“The price of not giving me an answer is costly. Don’t think you will be able to leave with all your limbs!”

The second battlefield was unveiled in the deepest part of the Great Forest.

***

One step left.

Theo’s bones were already trembling. His physical body wasn’t present in this realm, and the water elemental ruler’s protection and Umbra were protecting his life, but his brain was quickly reaching its limits.

But he needed to take one more step. However, his intuition told him that if he took this step, he would die.

“Damn…. It!”

He had no choice but to go. He knew he had to go. He ought to go.

However, his feet didn’t move.

The boundary of life and death… this last hurdle was so hard. Theo might die the moment he took this one step. All the glory he’d won would turn to ashes. He was afraid that even his soul would burn away. There was no way to bring out more strength. Mitra’s strength could not help in this dead land, and he had already exerted Umbra’s power to its limit. He had also activated the defense spells he’d stored with Memorize.

Theo somehow understood that this was the boundary. This was the realm of a hero, the realm of those who overcame the fear of death and threw themselves into the struggle. Then, he remembered it.

What...?

He had already crossed this boundary once. It was a space he’d already left a footprint. Ellenoa’s face flashed through his mind. When he remembered how he’d felt when he’d faced Pride, all hesitation disappeared.

He took the third step. Then as the flames burned his consciousness, Theo shouted, [Gluttony!]

- I have been waiting!

The tongue stretched out from his left hand, and in the swirl of heat and light that no one’s eyes could see through, the nemesis of a grimoire appeared. Even the grimoire Laevateinn, which didn’t have a governing intellect, felt an instinctive fear as it tried to escape.

However, there was no escaping the tongue.

- I got it!