Another side
What is that? Oniō Raidou’s eyes widened.
Despite the formidable Kirin, wreathed in solar flames, standing before him, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the slash attack his disciple had unleashed.
With a brainless tactic that used wind pressure as a shield to blow away the flames, the disciple had repelled the Kirin, gradually shifting the balance of the battle in his favor.
Such folly, condoning an immediate return to equilibrium.
The slash attack, unleashed by a mere human-like being, had been too magnificent to permit.
A single stroke that severed immortality.
The Ōni thought, what would happen if I were to receive that? A chill snaked down his spine.
Death.
Defense and counterattack were irrelevant.
If I defended, the defense itself would be cleaved; if I counterattacked, the attack itself.
It would be split in two.
The massive bird, struck by a slash that even the Ōni was certain would kill, was slammed to the ground, a roar echoing. The Kirin, sensing danger upon seeing one of its kind slain, also turned its attention there.
As its name, Phoenix, implies, it revives even when killed.
A symbol of immortality.
Unlike the Undead, this colossal bird, which revives by reconstructing its body, was now being looked down upon from behind by a man with lifeless eyes.
Was the heat that had incinerated the angels cooled by that slash? It no longer burned anyone.
“Kaha, he was hiding something like that,” the Ōni muttered.
A blade that literally brought about the phenomenon described by the characters “must kill.”
And yet, it still existed, unfinished.
What kind of blade would be completed if that were sublimated?
“I can’t afford to be complacent either.”
Once again, a chill ran down the Ōni’s spine as he imagined such thoughts, coupled with a competitive spirit that questioned if this was the place to stagnate.
“In that case, I don’t have time to waste with this nag. My disciple finished it with one strike. If that’s the case, then I should do the same.”
Jiro had cleanly finished it with a single strike.
For him, processing unnecessary information was bothersome, so he had simply dealt a regenerative, fatal blow that encompassed the soul altogether, swiftly and surely.
In essence, he found prolonging the fight troublesome.
The Result was the slaying of a Divine Beast with a single strike.
“Hey, don’t interfere.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it~”
The Ōni warned the nearby spirit, then
He adopted a stance, fists held at his waist.
It was a stance similar to a karate punch.
A seemingly defenseless pose, clearly indicating an imminent attack.
The Kirin glared at the Ōni, increasing the flames it wore, as if to say, “Try to break through if you can.”
A provocation, holding the smug confidence that it would be impossible to pierce those flames.
“Don’t underestimate me.”
That arrogance was the finest spice for a Demon.
As if fanning the flames of fighting spirit, he sublimated his technique to its maximum, and without a sound – no, leaving all sound and wind behind, in a silent space – the massive figure exceeded the Kirin’s speed of thought. Before he knew it, the Ōni stood directly in front of the Kirin.
And unleashed a blow he had forbidden his disciple from using.
At that time, during the test, Jiro and Raidou had fought with the intent to kill.
However, that intent was merely at the level of “if I kill, so be it,” a level of attack where death was a possibility.
This time, both Jiro and Raidou’s techniques carried the concept of assuredly killing.
“Meimū” (No Life)
If this is unleashed and received, life will cease.
A finishing blow imbued with the concept of assured killing, visualized by the Ōni.
The fist, unleashed from the punch stance, pierced the wind, pierced the sound, and pierced the light.
The moment it was unleashed, his hand disappeared, leaving all phenomena behind. It pierced the flames protecting the Kirin’s face, not only that, but the fist plunged into its nose, creating a clean hole as if a blade had been driven in.
As he completed the swing, all the energy generated by the stepping acceleration and the swing from the tip of the embedded fist exploded.
As a result, the Kirin met a gruesome death, its upper body annihilated.
Flesh and bone turned into fine fragments, and Raidou showered the area with a rain of blood.
A technique for assured killing.
The Ōni disliked this technique.
This technique was a curse that weakened him.
Because it could reliably finish any opponent, other techniques became unnecessary.
Because it was a finishing move, using anything else to defeat an opponent became inefficient.
He was delighted when he first created and mastered it, but the moment he realized this fact, his heart grew calm, and he struggled with its necessity.
He thought he would feel emotions at that time, but.
“Kahahaha, it’s not enough,” a smile flickered across the Ōni’s lips.
“What a sight,” he muttered, as if self-deprecating.
The technique he had unleashed was indeed one he had created.
However, to the Ōni, it was a pathetic finishing move, barely holding its shape, rusted.
He wouldn’t explicitly say so, but he was aware of being captivated by his disciple and inspired by him.
“If I showed this to a Nōraifu, they’d probably call it pathetic, hey.”
“To slay a Divine Beast with a single strike, what kind of standard is that?”
The spirit addressed the Ōni, who repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, unable to accept this.
“Hah, you can still talk like that after seeing your contractor’s technique? What blind fools you are.”
With a voice tinged with irritation at their incomprehension, the Ōni retorted.
“Indeed… I was wrong just now. Seeing that, it’s natural to have that kind of reaction.”
The spirit, accepting the irritation as justified, apologized sincerely.
And then, she looked at her contractor, still fighting before the gate.
“Is it okay not to help?”
“Are you joking? Would you want to stand next to someone who unleashes slashes that could make you question the usability of your own body at any moment?”
What stood there was no longer a mere disaster, but something else entirely.
Despite having had its neck severed, a man was still repelling angels on the body of a Divine Beast that had not shed a single drop of blood—a pristine corpse.
Even though they were contracted, the spirit stated it was dangerous even to approach him.
“Isn’t this interesting?”
The Ōni responded with a grin of curiosity, and the spirit shook her head, calling him hopeless, then pointed at the man wielding his sword.
“Men are truly fools. What my contractor is swinging now isn’t a physical phenomenon. Do you understand? He’s currently slicing apart souls with a physical object.”
Even if it were possible, the spirit said, reaching that point was nearly impossible. But the Ōni retorted, calling her a fool.
“He probably had that kind of talent from the start. And the fact that neither I nor Nōraifu noticed it just means we were blind. Both Nōraifu and I initially judged him as just a rough, unrefined man. But when it all came out, a man emerged who strove to surpass our power. For such a man to now achieve great feats, we can only be amazed, not find it strange?”
“…Indeed. Come to think of it, he was a man who could carve into the walls of another world with mere practice swings.”
Abnormalities, for better or worse, stand out.
Whether to accept them as good or bad depends on the observer.
While the spirit understood that the attack wasn’t directed at her, she felt a slight fear towards her contractor, who was increasingly able to sever the concept of dimensions. But then she remembered his personality and reassessed it as unfounded worry.
The Ōni saw a glimpse of the pinnacle in the man’s technique, who carved only what he wished to cut, with minimal effort and clean precision, without even creating spatial distortions. He evaluated the strength of a man stepping into that realm.
“If this continues, he might be able to cut that gate as well. Well, if that happens, he might be able to do something interesting.”
“…God Killer.”
What lies beyond the glimpse he saw?
The path beyond swordsmanship, which was merely a killing art.
Realizing this, the Ōni’s smile widened, as if finding it even more interesting.
For Isal, such a thought would be absurd, even presumptuous to consider.
It’s impossible, they would think. Killing a god is impossible; it’s impossible to even wound them.
That was common sense, no, the truth for humans.
However, the Demon Lord’s Army had set the goal of defeating gods.
They had anticipated fighting gods when reclaiming the world.
Given that gods themselves had parted ways, it was natural to consider that a decisive battle with a god would eventually occur.
And for Jiro, gods were not beings that could not be killed.
Gods have died in various myths.
They are absolute, overwhelming, yet not perfect beings.
Because gods are perceived this way and are subject to various interpretations, he thought they might be incomplete.
“Yes, that gate of light is the embodiment of a god’s power. The Tower of God, the Castle of God—these are merely substances from our world combined with divine power, impure entities. But that gate is different. It’s power made from genuine divine power, using the souls of angels and heroes, processed and dyed with divine power as its material. My contractor is now trying to cut it.”
Therefore, he did not consider it impossible.
Even if the possibility was as thin as a thread, and even if it required passing through a thousand needles in the eye of a needle, as long as it was not zero, it was a possibility.
What else could this be called if not abnormal?
“He thinks such absurd things, and yet, it seems like he might actually achieve it.”
To call it abnormal, and say it’s amazing.
Having witnessed humans of various races over many years, the spirit recalled that while many had turned the impossible into the possible, she couldn’t recall anyone who had so stubbornly believed in it and made it a reality.
This was something that made one think, “Perhaps this really can be done.”
“By the way, can you destroy that?”
Sensing something exhilarating, the spirit mischievously asked the Ōni such a question.
“It’s not a question of can or cannot. Jiro did it. So, I will do it too.”
He had not yet accomplished it.
Surely, in the past, he had not accomplished it either.
However, he was about to accomplish it now.
With that conviction, the Ōni, along with the spirit, continued to watch the back of a single man.
Using the Divine Beast as a foothold, he leaped up and attempted to cut straight ahead.
His sword was short and small in comparison to the gate of light.
A single person could never possibly cleave that gate of light in two.
In reality, it should be so, yet for the Ōni and the spirit, two beings of different species, they were witnessing an event that would likely change history at this very moment.
A seemingly casual horizontal swing.
To those without skill, it was an action that would make them scratch their heads in bewilderment, asking, “What did he just do?”
But to those with skill.
“He cut it.”
“Yes, it was cut.”
They were to witness this great feat.
The range of Jiro’s sword, even when swung horizontally, was at most five meters.
Yet, after a delay of just a few seconds, a moment that arrived slightly later.
A diagonally slanting cut appeared on the light gate, which boasted dozens of times that size, and it shifted to the side.
Transcendence of physics, turning the impossible into reality.
“My contractor never ceases to be interesting to watch.”
“No doubt. Ever since he arrived, our former common sense has been called into question.”
From bewilderment to praise.
From surprise to awe.
And then.
“Ah, my head hurtsttt!”
The Ōni and the spirit chuckled at the words of the man who had overcome the impossible with sheer grit.
Stepping forward to congratulate him on his achievement.
“Good work.”
“You did well.”
They praised the man who had found hope.
Another side End
A word for today:
What cannot be done can be made to be done.
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