The Tale of A Man Who Believed That His Reincarnation Had Granted Him A Japanese Sword And The Greatest Battle Sense, Only To Have The God Finally Inform Him "Huh, I Didn't Give You Any Combat Sense… That's Scary…" - Episode 46

I step into the arena, moving against the flow of people fleeing towards the exit. I have no intention of losing. Not even a fragment of doubt exists in my mind. But that doesn’t mean I’m underestimating my opponent. Angelica’s magic is far more powerful and large-scale than I initially imagined. It surpasses my expectations in ways I never considered.

I don’t lose confidence, but I don’t underestimate my opponent. I don’t doubt my own strength, but I keep thinking about my enemy. Perhaps this mindset is the same as that of the man who once stood by Sakurako Hashihime’s side.

I pass through the reception area of the arena, the same one I visited with Laila before. Then, I walk through the familiar corridor leading to the battleground. As I approach, I hear the roars and heavy breathing of a massive beast, the sound of walls and floors crumbling, explosions like lightning tearing through the air, and the triumphant laughter of a woman who is utterly convinced of her victory.

“Well then, let’s go.”

Muttering to myself as if I were heading out for a casual stroll, I draw my sword from its scabbard. Usually, I fight driven by the heat of the moment, moving instinctively as if repeating well-practiced actions from the past. But this time is different.

This battle is one that I, as I am now, must fight properly. It is a battle to settle the consequences of my mistakes—the mistakes I made when I sought power without struggle, when I became arrogant from strength I gained too easily.

“This time, I will fight as my present self.”

I speak to the source of my strength—the killer within me, the presence that feels as small as a grain of sand yet as undeniable as shattered glass. No words come in reply. But unlike usual, the all-consuming rage of battle does not rise up within me.

“Do as you please, boy.” If he were here, that foul-mouthed self of mine would likely say that.

Gripping my sword firmly in my right hand, I extend the blade outward. My left-hand rests near my waist, while my feet move swiftly, skimming the ground as I step out from the corridor into the arena.

“Gugiii… Gwooooaaaargh!!”

The first thing I see is a massive, four-legged monster covered in pitch-black fur with glowing red eyes. It is the very definition of a “demon hound,” as if the term was created for it. Its body is as large as a dump truck, and it struggles as if an invisible force is pressing down on it. Despite the crushing weight, it attempts to stand and rampage.

Beside the demon hound stands the Twilight Knight, Lith, clad in a new, high-quality, heavy set of armor different from what he wore in the preliminaries. His full-face helmet has elegant curves, and his armor still bears the owl insignia. However, the once-pristine owl design is now marred by three deep claw marks, as if slashed by a beast.

With both hands, the Twilight Knight raises a sinister crimson spear toward the sky. It seems that he is using the spear’s power to pin the demon hound down.

“This won’t hold much longer…! Enri! You’ve finally arrived! Our guardian goddess—!”

At a distance from where the knight and hound struggle, I see a familiar sight: the great witch Angelica, standing atop the arena stage. She holds a long staff, thrusting it toward the sky.

At the tip of her staff is the royal viewing platform, newly constructed above the spectator stands, even higher than the seats of the five great merchant families.

A single girl remains in the royal box, holding back the ceaseless blizzard pouring from Angelica’s staff with a protective barrier.
Her hair is a gentle, clear blue, more vibrant than the sky, flowing down to her waist. She wears simple yet elegant golden chest armor and gauntlets. At first glance, she appears to be a young girl, but the fierce determination on her face is that of someone who has sworn to protect the people of this land.

She clenches her teeth, eyes wide open, as she puts all her strength into holding up a circular shield, using it as the focal point for her barrier against Angelica’s relentless magic. But she is being pushed back, little by little.

“Pallas… Ah, Pallas, Pallas, Pallas! Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? How long I’ve dreamed of turning you into a mindless sack of flesh with my own hands? Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to live in the warm, fertile land you and George created?”

“If you despise the world George and I built so much, why don’t you just throw yourself into the river of the underworld?!”

With a triumphant roar, Angelica’s blizzard intensifies. The audience has mostly evacuated, leaving the arena nearly empty. The goddess, called Pallas, glances at me as I enter. Angelica, on the other hand, is completely fixated on her revenge, oblivious to her surroundings.

I take a slow breath as I scan the scene. I want to rush at Angelica immediately, but I must not act rashly. This time, I have to end this battle here. I cannot allow her to escape again.

Striking her will be the final step. First, I must eliminate the immediate threats.

Spinning the hilt of my katana in my right hand, I approach the Twilight Knight, who is still struggling to keep the massive demon hound at bay.

“Did that witch summon this beast?”

“Guh…! Is that really a question worth delaying the goddess’s rescue for?!”

“Yes. It is that important. ‘To slay the general, first shoot his horse.’ That’s a saying from my homeland.”

Groaning, the Twilight Knight tightens his grip on his wildly struggling spear and gives a brief reply.

“Yes, she summoned it! More precisely, she brought a child here and transformed it into this beast!”

As I thought. This demon hound must be Logos—the one Angelica took from the wand storage. She must have twisted its body and soul through some kind of magic I cannot even begin to comprehend.

The beast lets out an ear-splitting howl as it thrashes violently, trying to break free from the Twilight Knight’s hold. As I approach, the knight starts to say something but then falls silent, choosing instead to watch how things unfold.

Clenching the hilt of my sword tightly, I recall my past mistakes and the regret that weighs upon me. Logos ended up like this because of me. I met her, I took her with me, I made her my offering, I called her forth, and I let her escape. And because of that, Utsuho ended up like that. This is my sin, and I must now atone for it.

“I will make every last human in this city my undead slave! Their skulls shall be my goblets! Their skin, my robes! Their limbs, my beasts’ feast!”

I hear Angelica’s victorious voice as she moves to fulfill her revenge.

I grip my sword and focus my gaze on the demon hound. Amid its frozen blue body, I see a faint patch of pale yellow, as delicate as a lone island in a vast ocean.

I see it—a thread like a spider’s silk, one that only those who understand failure and redemption can perceive.

Raising my sword high, I fix my stance. With a single step forward, I release all tension in my body and bring my blade down, following the thread.

The blade slices effortlessly through the demon hound, as if cutting through water. There is no resistance—no sensation of striking flesh. But as proof of the cut, a thin line of bl00d seeps from the beast’s massive body.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to sever a connection, to cut away fate itself.