It took only a few minutes.
The time it took for the man to drink an unknown potion, faint, and then wake up again was that brief.
It was a time span so short that calling it “a few minutes” felt embarrassing.
It was barely a minute or two.
However, that slight difference was enough to turn the tide of battle.
Miltram, who had been in control of the situation until now, silently stared at the man.
Her complexion was visibly tense, with beads of sweat gathering on her white forehead.
It was a change that no one could understand.
Whatever he had done was unclear, but the opponent was still Ian Perkus.
At first glance, he appeared the same, and there was no qualitative or quantitative change in the magical energy within his body. No matter how she looked at him, there was no reason for Miltram to be on guard.
Yet, she could not shake off the fear imprinted in her instincts.
Her intuition was ringing alarm bells that transcended rational thought.
That man is different.
Ian Perkus had always been a strong and dangerous adversary, but he was not comparable to the current Ian Perkus.
He might die.
Miltram’s breath quickened at the first possibility that she had entertained in decades since becoming a dark priestess. She had enjoyed eternal life and youth by switching between countless bodies.
Her obsession with life was stronger than anyone else’s.
Unable to overcome her unease, a desperate shout erupted from Miltram’s mouth.
“Ah, you’re alone now! Even when they swarmed you, you couldn’t do anything, so what on earth can you do alone…?!”
“A lot.”
The man replied in a dry voice.
Plain and direct, the language of a strong person.
And that only made Miltram feel even more chills.
That one word was his unvarnished sincerity.
With sword in hand, the man took a step forward.
“Watch closely; I’ll show you one by one from now on.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Miltram gave instructions to the test subjects.
“…Kill him immediately!”
There was not even a trace of the previous composure or mockery.
Miltram ground her teeth in apparent rage.
Seeing the fear in her eyes, the man swallowed a bitter laugh.
“Quick to catch on.”
The man murmured as two heavily armed test subjects charged in.
Two massive bodies, launched like metal projectiles, left terrifying gashes in the air.
However, the man didn’t show any signs of flinching.
He simply continued to move forward, lowering his sword to the left.
And in the next moment.
With a sharp sound, blood and water splattered into the air.
Miltram’s eyes widened. The same was true for her companions, but especially intense was the reaction of Ceria.
Seven claw marks were etched.
Blood was bursting forth along the silver lines. It was the remnants of life from the test subjects who had lunged at him.
The sight of the two giants being cleaved in armor felt unreal.
Not just the armor.
Even the blades they had wielded fell off along the silver cutting edge. The metal that had lost its support dropped heavily, leaving behind a pitiful death throe.
The apex of that murderous skill was uttered from Ceria’s mouth.
“…Golden Lionsword!”
If it was indeed the seven Golden Lionswords, it was the level of skill on par with the Marquise Yuridina in her prime.
It was only natural for Ceria to look perplexed.
Of course, the man didn’t seem to care about that at all.
As chunks of flesh and blood fell, Miltram, who had been gazing blankly, stammered.
“My, my masterpiece… how…?”
“I told you.”
The man said so, walking through the spilled blood and entrails.
“I can do a lot… there’s still plenty more to come.”
After a while, Miltram’s eyes shimmered with rage, tinged with blood.
Gnashing her teeth, she spread her arms wide.
Black smoke began to rise from the ground.
It was the power of the evil god.
Yet, there was no change to be read from the man’s face.
He felt no sense of despair, fear, or anxiety. Rather, there was a countenance devoid of even confidence or malice.
He simply continued to walk silently.
As the distance began to shorten, Miltram’s anxiety grew even more.
When she waved her hand as if to command, all enemies except for the test subject keeping the party in check charged towards him.
One test subject wore unusually fine armor, two wielded daggers, and behind them, there was also a test subject holding a bow and another gripping a wire with a weight attached.
They were formidable opponents that had caused trouble for the party one by one.
There was no way the masterpieces Miltram had spent decades carefully crafting would be ordinary.
With two, it might be manageable, but with five, the man would surely find himself in a predicament.
As Miltram expected, when five test subjects charged in, the man’s response also changed.
He was ready to charge into battle.
The man shot forth, landing right in front of the armored test subject.
In the blink of an eye, the man closed the distance, and the test subject hastily swung down his sword. Yet, the test subject couldn’t even make use of the effort he had put into holding it up.
With a clank, the man inverted the sword and deflected it.
Even as the angle was slightly askew, the test subject couldn’t respond at all. Realizing this, the man simply tightened his grip on the sword in his hand.
Having knocked away the test subject’s blade, the man’s sword drew a silver horizontal line.
The armor was robust, but it could not withstand the man’s aura. One head, encased in a helmet, flew into the air.
Along with it came the test subjects wielding daggers.
The beams of light shot forth at both sides of the man, far too fast. No matter how quick the man’s response, they seemed as if he could never catch up.
However, that illusion was corrected in no time.
With two consecutive cracking sounds, lightening struck.
There was no other way to describe it but ‘lightning.’ Miltram’s mouth hung open in shock, disbelief clouding her eyes.
“Wha, what…?!”
It was a sight she had never encountered in her decades of life; a speed of swordsmanship that was far too fast.
The horizontally drawn sword cut straight through the chests of the two test subjects, leaving penetrating wounds. Unable to withstand the force, the upper bodies of the two test subjects slumped backward.
Naturally, the paths of the two beams targeting the man also skewed off track.
The aftershock triggered by the supersonic sword strikes did not stop there.
A loud explosion burst forth, causing a small storm to sweep the surroundings.
The two newly felled test subjects were caught in the shockwave. Their bodies, spinning haphazardly, were thrown aside.
That was not all.
Arrows that had been flying were twisted, and the wire that aimed for weakness also flailed wildly.
In a single blow, all threats aimed at the man had been efficiently eliminated.
It was as if a real lightning bolt had struck.
Amidst that violent turbulence, one blade suddenly shot out.
It was the sword held by the man.
The sword traced a straight line, directly piercing the forehead of the test subject holding the bow. And it curved once more, severing the skull.
The balance of stillness and motion.
Since this was a technique he was already familiar with, Miltram exerted all her effort to control the last test subject.
The test subject instantly sank down, bending its knees. Then, silver beams whizzed past above it.
It was a razor-thin margin.
For the first time, a thrill of excitement glimmered in Miltram’s eyes as she watched the battle.
The path of the weapon thrown by Ian Perkus could only be altered once.
At least, that was what she believed.
Then, Ian must have no weapons left now.
However, she could not rule out the possibility he might pick one up from the ground, so she had to take action immediately.
Having made her judgment in an instant, Miltram tried to issue commands, only to pause.
This was due to a bizarre sight coming to her eyes.
The sword was rotating in place.
It was a phenomenon that could not happen naturally. Upon realizing this, Miltram’s complexion turned pale.
In a swift motion, the sword beheaded the kneeling test subject.
It was a clean execution, like a executioner hewing a condemned man.
The spinning sword plunged into the ground along with the blood and then returned once more to the man’s hand.
Not just once, but three times.
That was the extent of the changes seen until the man dealt with two test subjects and reclaimed his sword.
It was the man’s fatigued voice that startled the dazed Miltram back to reality.
He spoke in his usual disinterested tone.
“…You shouldn’t mistake me for an amateur.”
Once he finished that statement, the last remaining test subject fell down with a thud.
Now, only the test subjects who were keeping the party in check remained.
However, in order to face the man, it would only serve to increase the enemy’s firepower. If they began to back him up even though they couldn’t handle a single one, there would be no way forward.
She was aware of that.
Though she knew, Miltram felt a sharp fear and instinctively wanted to shout.
To stop that man.
To make him stop his leisurely stride, so that he couldn’t approach her any further.
Miltram cried out in a fit.
“Stop coming closer, or my comrades will be dead…!”
Bang, bang, bang.
The skulls of the test subjects who had been restraining the party burst open.
It was the result of the man taking the dagger that had dropped to the ground and throwing it.
The overwhelming and effortlessly neutralized force left the party in shock as well.
As the pressure holding them down released, one by one, the bodies without heads began to fall.
They could only gaze at the man, holding their breath.
The man paid no mind to the party. He merely resumed his previously halted steps.
Miltram resisted until the end.
“Do, don’t come near!”
Suddenly, the head of a test subject burst forth from the ground.
The prelude to an explosion; the man showed no sign of alarm as he faced it head-on with the blade.
And at the moment that the loud explosion echoed,
The man struck the center with the flat of his blade.
Then, the shockwave spread out in a fan shape, leaving traces of blood and destruction behind.
The direction was directly opposite where the man stood, towards Miltram.
Miltram’s body was flung into the air, rolling across the ground.
The clattering of her teeth testified to how intense her anxiety and dread had reached their peak.
It was an unfathomable opponent.
To adjust the range and direction of the explosion at will?
Miltram considered all means she could use to counteract it, but no answer came.
No matter what accident occurred, the conclusion remained singular.
Her death.
The man’s declaration became reality.
Miltram, not wanting to accept it, desperately racked her brain. Her long-standing obsession with life poured lubricants into her thoughts chaotically.
Thus, Miltram found her lifeline.
The trembling body of the woman calmed down, and soon a sound of chuckling escaped her lips.
Miltram’s eyes, glazed with a faint madness, turned toward the man.
Though she was in a messy state, with her head cradled in her hands, it didn’t matter. What mattered to Miltram now was her life.
She had thought of a brilliant idea.
“Ian Perkus… you are strong.”
The man’s steps came to a halt, now just a stone’s throw away from the woman.
His golden eyes, burning with intensity, turned to Miltram as if to hear what she had to say.
Miltram intermingled a tittering sound with her voice.
“Wonderful, excellent! I don’t know what methods you used, but the test subjects’ regeneration functions aren’t working… However, there’s something you overlooked!”
The man’s closed lips showed no sign of parting.
Not caring what that meant, Miltram continued with increasing enthusiasm.
She was so caught up in the excitement that she was half-rising off the ground.
“The grand plan I’ve been preparing for over ten years is right before my eyes… of course, in this Perkus Manor! Oh, the lord’s retinue shall descend upon this place! Hundreds will die and thousands will be injured… Since the ceremony has already begun, it will proceed in my absence.”
There seemed to be no deceit in her words.
Anyone would feel the same.
In her delirious state, it seemed impossible that there could be falsehoods mixed into her wildly uttered words, even if she were a cunning dark priestess.
And so the atmosphere of the open space sank in an instant.
It was a terrifying conspiracy just to hear it spoken.
Miltram read the change in that mood and grinned even more broadly.
“You’ll have to spare my life, Ian Perkus… if you don’t wish to see the inhabitants you cherish so dearly die and suffer.”
The woman stumbled as she stood up.
With a triumphant smile, she spread her arms wide.
And shouted.
“Now, lower your sword! And cancel the ceremony, or…?!”
It was just before her words came to a close.
A silver line crossed through the void.
It was exactly the trajectory that sliced across Miltram’s neck.
Miltram’s head lifted into the air. That was the last expression she crafted in life.
A visage frozen in horror and disbelief.
As Miltram’s body wobbled, gushing blood, the man only spoke in a voice devoid of any emotion.
“…So be it.”
It was the death of a dark priestess who had led a long, arduous life.
