Al's arm flew through the air. Airmid was even slower than Ais to notice the tragedy.
Two factors converged to create this horrific situation: her distance from Al's position and her inferior kinetic vision compared to high-level front-line fighters. Although Airmid was the undisputed best healer, her rank as an adventurer remained at Level 2. Naturally, her eyes could not track the movements of Ein, whose strength now rivaled or exceeded Level 9.
Airmid's genius lay in her extraordinary restorative abilities and her razor-sharp decision-making. Without these two traits, she would never have been named the greatest healer in the city. Consequently, Airmid was the last person in that hall to realize Al's arm had been severed.
Nevertheless, her body surged into motion, leaving behind all feelings of shock, sorrow, despair, and rage. Airmid processed the reality of Al's amputation with a composure that surpassed everyone else, and her reaction was the fastest of all. She unleashed her magic with movements devoid of hesitation, as if she had already anticipated things would turn out this way.
But as she prepared to trigger the total healing magic she had already chanted and held in reserve────── her expression darkened for the first time.
●○●○●
Overflowing, overflowing, overflowing.
Black magic energy surged in torrents. The power of the "Polluted Spirit" flooded inward. Rage, hatred, murderous intent, malice, despair, fear, pain, sorrow, emptiness, void, grief, loss, disappointment, frustration, regret, bitterness, resentment, jealousy, envy, confusion, surrender, loathing, and a craving for slaughter── every possible negative emotion began to saturate Ein's being.
A massive deluge of negative feelings stained Ein, invading her very core. A deep, hollow darkness swallowed her whole. A black swamp of gloom obliterated Ein's heart, dragging her down into an ugly image fitting of her corruption. Even those feelings that could be called "remnants of attachment," still clinging to the corners of her heart, were devoured by the darkness and vanished. Nothing remained but a deep, black madness and an insatiable desire for a massacre.
There was no turning back now.
She no longer had the right to return.
Corrupted and shattered, Ein's persona shifted, nearing its final transformation into "something else."
"────── Ah."
Ein surrendered to her impulse. With a manic smile resembling a demon's face, she transformed into pitch-black lightning and lunged at Ais───── only to sever the arm of Al, who had rushed in to protect the girl.
Ein watched the arm fly through the air amidst a spray of blood, her movements freezing as a look of bewilderment washed over her face.
Because Al was a "Sword Saint," his movements remained incredibly fast even after losing a limb. In a flash, he pulled Ais toward him and leaped backward to put distance between them and their opponent. His decision was precise and cold; even the loss of a limb failed to shake his iron will. Al calmly applied pressure to his wound as he assessed the situation.
"(... So, it's been severed.)"
It must have been cut by Ein's claws or fangs. His right arm, from the elbow down, had vanished entirely. He could suppress the pain, and he had already stanched the bleeding. Nothing blocked his will to fight. However, the greater problem was Ein's state.
She was visibly unstable. He didn't know what had happened to her, but it played to his advantage; no matter how strong she was, as long as she relied purely on brute force, there was always a way to counter her.
But the moment Al thought that, Ein vanished from his sight.
"Damn it?!"
No, she hadn't vanished. Ein's current speed truly exceeded Al's, yet it wasn't a speed he couldn't respond to in his current state. Al quickly scooped up Ais and leaped away. Immediately after, thunder struck where he had been standing, and the ground exploded.
When Ein reappeared, she held a long sword stained in pitch black.
"──── Ah, I see now."
Ten full seconds had passed since Al's arm was severed. Despite all that time, the arm had not healed, and no healing magic had come from Airmid. A healer like Airmid was capable of chanting and activating magic in far less time.
Yet, second after second passed, and the magic never came. Al did not have the luxury of looking back at Airmid, but he was certain she wasn't dead.
This, then, was the explanation: the blighted winds emitted from that black blade carried a Magic Seal effect. It seemed the "Magic Seal" curse inherent in the sword had synchronized with Ein's magic energy, increasing its range and potency. Since he was affected by the curse without being cut directly, the effect the blade carried upon direct contact was undoubtedly more concentrated.
Al, who had received the curse once and gained immunity, was unaffected. But anyone else receiving it directly would surely die. Even Airmid was helpless if the "Curse-Breaking" magic itself was sealed.
"(I cannot let Airmid die───)"
Until moments ago, Al hadn't paid much attention to Airmid compared to the rest of the Familia. Unlike ordinary healers, a fatal injury wasn't fatal for Airmid, the greatest healer among all adventurers. As long as her magic remained active, she wouldn't die even if subjected to a magical bombardment or a lethal blow.
Thus, he hadn't factored her in as someone needing protection. The proof was that she was still standing despite being exposed to the magic energy discharge from Ein that had knocked out first-class adventurers.
But now, after the absolute total healing magic—the very thing that made Al call her a Saint—had been sealed, Airmid was just a Level 2 adventurer. In this state, she could not withstand Ein's attacks. Furthermore, corrupted magic energy laden with curses was overflowing from Ein's body.
That energy, polluted by Ein's mana, was highly toxic. While Al possessed immunity, the other members would never endure it. At this rate, the damage wouldn't be limited to Airmid; it would spread to the rest of the comrades. If that happened, Al did not trust his ability to protect them with only one arm.
"(... No other choice.)"
He clearly decided that the lives of his comrades were more important than fulfilling his personal desires. At the very least, if Airmid stayed safe, he would find a solution for the rest.
"Cra.. nel..?"
"Facing an opponent stronger than me with one arm and my back against the wall? Well, it's not so bad."
The problem was the need to buy time in the absence of backline support, until Airmid could break the cursed shackle herself. How long could he hold out with one arm? Al's skill, [Ra Phoenix], could break curses, but he didn't have the luxury of doing that now.
Al laughed mockingly at himself for his poor prioritization due to haste, then shifted his focus entirely, locking his eyes on Ein. Ais was no longer capable of fighting, and this opponent wasn't someone he could settle scores with in a one-on-one duel. Al quickly abandoned the idea of subduing Ein and focused entirely on hindering her movements and preventing her from advancing.
If he wanted to achieve his grand goal, it would have been ideal to subdue her and then "stage" his death, but gambling in this place without prior preparation was too high a risk.
"A, aa, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!"
Ein screamed like a beast and lunged with incredible speed, swinging her long black sword. Her sword strikes, which far exceeded the limits of heroes, combined with her skills to reach the level of divine speed. With a manic, demonic smile and eyes devoid of any trace of reason, the Ein who stood there was no longer the same person.
Al began to parry and redirect Ein's attacks calmly. Although her means of attack were limited to claws and a long sword, her strength far surpassed any monster Al had ever fought. With every attack he received, the wounds on Al's body increased.
This was due to the sheer difference in physical power. Ein was piercing Al's defenses through brute force, inflicting continuous damage. Even though Al's [Ra Phoenix] was a versatile and comprehensive skill, it did not reach the level of the Saint's specialized healing miracles. It lacked the instantaneous effect that Airmid or Hedin possessed; it might heal fractures and deep wounds, but it could not regrow lost limbs in the blink of an eye. If Airmid were at full strength, she would have healed him in a second; now, it was impossible.
The important question now was: how much time would Airmid need to rise again? Given the strength of Ein's curse and the doubled curse from the Behemoth drop items, and considering Airmid's skills, breaking the curse was possible, but how many tens of minutes would it take──
"Al, give me five minutes... no, just three. That is enough time for me to kill this curse completely."
As if she had read his thoughts, Airmid's words reached him from behind. Al's eyes widened in surprise, but he immediately regained his composure and smiled confidently.
"──── Understood."
●○●○●
Wait, only three minutes?!
I almost died because of this curse once, do you know that?
If not for Bete's intervention breaking the curse from the outside, I'd be dead by now!
And how will you break the curse yourself while unable to use magic, even if it doesn't cause direct physical harm?
Even I, given time and equipment, could use the [Mystery] skill to develop an antidote that shatters the curse without magic, but in this situation, it's absolutely impossible!
And you say three minutes...
Good grief, you are the one who scares me most here.
Airmid... You really are Airmid!! (The greatest rebuke I can manage).
Learn from Hedin a little, Hedin!!
..... Exhale.
... Truthfully, I wanted to die here and now, but if I do, Ein will kill Ais and the others. Also, I'm afraid Airmid might unleash her hidden potential and turn into more of a "monster" than she already is. So, I'll postpone this moment of despair.
●○●○●
Ein pounced on Al like a demon, leaving black afterimages in her wake. Her speed had reached a point where it was impossible to track with the naked eye.
But Al remained calm. Airmid's words carried a tone of absolute certainty, and Al believed in those words. There was no reason for him to doubt the person for whom he held the deepest trust and awe. Al began to redirect Ein's strikes, shifting them, absorbing their shocks, and evading them with supreme skill.
He focused entirely on absolute defense, utilizing all his abilities, even abandoning large evasive movements.
"(Why can't I crush him? How can he parry my attacks with one arm───── No, more importantly, what is this 'style'?)"
Ein began to regain some of her composure in the face of this illogical scene. Her strikes weren't missing Al entirely; rather, Al was redirecting every strike with pinpoint accuracy. The wounds on Al's body were increasing. At this rate, one of the strikes would eventually pierce a vital spot. Yet, that fatal blow never arrived.
He was indeed heavily wounded, but he prevented them from being decisive at the critical moments. Despite the one-sided assault, Ein felt a strange illusion as if she were the one being cornered.
Al did not attack; he was content with parrying all of Ein's strikes. Her attacks were incredibly fierce, but Al handled them with precision. Despite losing an arm, he used his greatsword as a shield, using the flat of the blade rather than the edge to redirect Ein's strikes, sometimes pushing her away using the hilt or the pommel.
Of course, if Ein stopped the close-quarters combat and switched to magic, the situation would change. But Ein in her current state lacked that level of coldness.
The first strike, the second, the third, the fourth.
His white hair scattered, his cheek was torn, his ear was cut, and his bones were scraped, but Al continued to parry.
"What is this 'style' really?!!"
Ein concluded that she didn't know this style, despite being Al's close companion for a full year. This perfected defensive pattern was entirely different from what Al usually showed. She had never seen him use such a technique. It was as if she were watching a different warrior entirely.
"This is ────"
Finn, who still couldn't return to the fight while protecting Lefiya and the others from the plague winds, opened his eyes in shock as he watched Al's battle. It was natural for Finn to be amazed at Al dedicating himself to defense and showing a technique that prevented Ein from ending the match.
But Finn's amazement didn't stop there. He was familiar with that perfect defensive pattern, those movements that neutralized monster strikes, and that overwhelming presence. That image was a perfect match for that specific warrior.
To Finn, that person was an old comrade-in-arms and a worthy rival. It was the "strongest warrior of the current era" recognizing the "strongest warrior of the previous era."
"This is ───── Ottar's swordplay."
"I have a strange habit; I can mimic any movement I see, even just once."
───── (Absolute Defense).
With the techniques of a "Sword Saint," Al in his current state would not be able to withstand Ein's overwhelming onslaught. Thus, he resorted to mimicking the "most perfect technique" to survive that storm. He couldn't reproduce physical strength or special [Skills] no matter his genius, but he could mimic the sword's path and the way of moving.
Obviously, a mimicry—no matter how good—would never reach the level of the original. But with Ottar's techniques, the situation was different.
"Though it irritates me deeply."
He didn't want to admit it, but to Al, Ottar was the "unclimbable wall." He had watched his techniques, experienced his maneuvers, and "tasted" the weight of his strikes more than anyone else. If it were the technique of another warrior, it might have been difficult, but he understood Ottar's techniques more deeply than anyone.
Millimeter-perfect sword control, extreme speed, perfect power distribution, precise angles, and center-of-gravity shifts. Just by moving the sword, one realized the amount of effort and grueling training required to reach this mastery.
He was still "far away." The "King" was still steps ahead of the "Sword Saint." Al alone realized that the title of "strongest person in the city" still belonged to Ottar alone. Even without discussing innate talent, Al's [Status] might even be superior, and he didn't think his own techniques and maneuvers were inferior. Yet, reaching him was still impossible.
Experience, time, and effort; everything was still lacking. The hero of this age who surpassed the "Thousand-Year Wall" and the history of the Zeus and Hera Familias. Al knew very well how strong the "King" who used this technique was.
But that was another matter. Now, and only now, he would use this technique to buy time.
"A, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!"
"───── Owaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!"
The screams of Ein and Al echoed in the hall. Even Al, who was usually cold, screamed as loudly as the owner of that "technique." The battle was grueling; one could even say he was completely pressured. But that was fine.
The melody of the decisive battle did not stop, and thunder clapped everywhere. Ein's storm-like consecutive strikes were relentless. Al parried it all, as if a single blink would cost him his life. He neutralized every strike from Ein, which possessed lethal power.
Al was placing a burden on his body that surpassed all limits. His joints began to scream, his internal organs were damaged, and he spat blood as he parried Ein's attacks. Because he was physically weaker and heavily wounded, Al could not take Ein's attacks head-on. Thus, he diverted their paths to kill the impact force and mitigate damage.
Yet, the wounds continued to grow. There was no hesitation in Ein's strikes, stained with despair and murderous intent; every hit was enough to end Al's life. Ein's ferocity reached its peak, but Al diverted them all.
"Evolution" in the face of a difficult opponent. It was as if Ottar and Mia were silently telling him to reach higher horizons after Al had remained "stagnant" due to his supreme talent.
Al didn't care for the title of the strongest in the slightest. But a sound echoed in Al's brain, like the meshing of gears. The incubation period was over, and Ein wasn't the only one about to "emerge from her cocoon."
Here, a secret technique was innovated; Al modified the King's "Absolute Defense" to elevate it to "Absolute Response." With every passing second and increasing wound, Al reached that rank in the heart of the death field—the pinnacle of Absolute Response, created solely to buy time until Airmid finished breaking the curse.
The fight between them reached a speed difficult to see, and the exchange never stopped. Flashes of lightning and darkness flew in every direction, and nothing could be heard in the hall but the sound of destruction. With every sword swing, stones shattered and steel tore, in a scene resembling a natural disaster.
Madness and rage, rejection and despair. Conflicting emotions surged, and words no longer had a place. Ein's slender sword clashed with Al's greatsword, sending sparks flying and producing a deafening metallic screech. The duel between the monster and the hero accelerated boundlessly, surpassing the speed of sound to reach the speed of lightning.
A reenactment of a heroic legend. Their confrontation became something beyond human perception. Al's body was mangled; it was no exaggeration to say he had become a walking corpse. Techniques and maneuvers no longer mattered; it was an assault based on pure power.
"Craaaanellllllllllllllllll!!"
Ein's scream, resembling a howl, shook Al's eardrums. Ein no longer saw anything but Al before her. Despite hearing that cry of pain from her soul, Al continued to raise his greatsword in silence. Their gazes met amidst a storm of blood.
"Look at meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
"Damn it?!"
With a cry full of resolve, Ein unleashed a strike with all her might. A strike that made everything prior look like child's play, with a massive pressure that robbed Al of his senses for a fleeting moment.
The Absolute Defense shattered.
With a sharp metallic ring, the greatsword flew from Al's hand into the air. For the first time, shock and anxiety appeared in Al's eyes, and ─────.
"(In the name of holy thought ─── I heal.)"
The Saint's chant rang out from behind. A pure prayer and a purifying light. A chant in an instant, magic at lightning speed. A majestic and beautiful singing voice pierced the battlefield.
Grains of pure white light overflowed, raining down on Al's body. A brilliant white magic circle spread across the stone floor.
(───── Dia Frater)
A calm radiance enveloped Al. Wounds began to heal before their eyes, and lost blood was replenished. Even the arm he had lost began to grow back, returning him to a perfectly ideal state.
A miracle performed by the "Saint of the Battlefield," Airmid Teasanare. The Saint's miracle freed Al from the brink of death after the shackle of the Magic Seal curse was broken.
".... It hasn't even been two minutes, not three as you said."
Al turned with a bitter smile, to which Airmid responded with a small smirk.
"Yes, but I have already 'grown accustomed' to it."
A definite achievement for the girl called a Saint. Al raised the corner of his mouth slightly in awe, while Airmid smiled back at him.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────
Note:
During these four years, the Saint has become physically and mentally strong due to the constant anxiety and treatment of that idiot who is brought to her every so often on the verge of death.
Based on the original story and what was mentioned in the games, it seems Airmid's blood carries a curse-breaking effect even without magic... is it a skill?
Lefiya and the rest of the second line ── in a state of unconsciousness.
The four Amazons ── suffering from severe exhaustion and affected by a [Debuff], nearly unconscious.
Bete ── lost consciousness after a subsequent attack.
Finn ── sustained serious injuries because he just regained consciousness and protected the remaining members.
It is not that Ottar is absolutely stronger than Al; rather, Al himself does not wish to become too strong, and their experience differs greatly due to the length of Ottar's life as an adventurer. Thus, Al believes Ottar surpasses him. In reality, their specialties and what they can do are entirely different, so it cannot be determined who is better; they are in the same rank.
When Al acknowledges something, he becomes blindly devoted to it (like his exaggerated awe of Airmid or his trust in Finn, which will become clear later).
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