A sound like a thin glass window shattering rang out, and fragments of Baha’s sword flew through the air like splinters of light.
Shimmering pieces of metal fluttered in his vision, followed by a much heavier sound of impact.
Baha felt the greatsword, which had smashed through his own blade, crush his fingers and cave in the back of his hand.
Like a trained assassin, he quickly retreated to gain distance, but the heavy greatsword never lost sight of its fleeing prey.
The tip of the sword had only brushed him.
If it were a thin sword, it would have merely cut his clothes and skin, but the sword carrying massive weight devastated everything in its path.
Baha was cut across the chest, and his ribs were crushed beneath the torn skin.
Baha was a man who couldn’t feel pain, but there is a limit to the load a body can handle, no matter how many drugs are poured into it.
He tried to swing even his broken sword from where he stood, but his shattered ribs and mangled hand wouldn’t send the blade in the direction he wanted.
Baha’s sword bent limply, and Zavad swung the greatsword held in both hands once more.
This time, it didn’t end with a mere surface graze.
Baha’s shattered ribs lost their shape entirely and turned into blades piercing his internal organs.
A waterfall of blood erupted from his deeply cut abdomen.
He stood upright for a moment, unlike someone whose body was completely pulverized, but then he staggered heavily as if the drugs flowing through his body were pouring out with the blood, and finally collapsed.
Zavad let out a long breath, unable to even wipe away his sweat.
This time, even he seemed to have reached his limit, his breathing coming in ragged, continuous gasps.
He wasn’t exactly relaxed, but it was a clear victory.
Zavad had swung it as if it were nothing, but many conditions were required to utilize his specially made greatsword.
Simply being strong wasn’t enough; one had to have mastered basic swordsmanship and trained their body with perfect balance.
One must use the muscles of the entire body, not just the forearms, to pour all their strength into the moment of the swing.
The firmly gripped hands must endure the dizzying weight of the blade, which exceeded 100kg, and the sword must carry the full, fierce momentum that cuts through all the air in front, without losing a single bit.
It must be as sharp as the claws of a bird of prey and able to press down with a crude weight that crushes bones, putting all of one’s weight into the strike to ensure the prey doesn’t escape.
If even one of these was lacking, there was a risk of being consumed by the sword and having one’s own body crushed, so it was better to use a regular sword.
However, Zavad was a man capable of that.
Usually, he would use a relatively light sword to subdue his opponents, but if the target was a villain threatening the peace of the Empire, he could use the heavy greatsword on his back to render them incapable of combat.
That was the fighting style of the Empire’s First Sword, Zavad Pomel, who would later gain fame as the strongest knight on the continent.
It was crude and rough compared to his elegant and noble appearance, but no one could deny that his sword style—which collapsed his opponents—was uniquely peerless.
However, his current self was not yet the finished version.
As soon as Baha collapsed, Zavad immediately sheathed the greatsword behind his back.
He could no longer support the weight of the sword with both arms.
The strength had completely left his forearms, and his fingertips trembled as if seared by electricity.
His wrists, with strained ligaments, screamed, and his exhausted muscles throbbed with pain.
Since he had anticipated these side effects, he had hoped to avoid drawing the greatsword if possible, but Baha was by no means an easy opponent.
Zavad looked down at the fallen Baha, suppressing the pain that felt like his limbs were being torn apart.
“Heh… heh…”
Even in his blood-soaked state, Baha was still laughing.
The bizarreness of him laughing even after being defeated made him look more like a demon from the snow mountains than a human.
It was to the point of wondering if he had demon blood mixed in.
Since his body was damaged to this extent, there would be no way to save him even if the Saintess came.
Having made his judgment, Zavad intended to leave him behind and give orders to his knights.
That is, if Baha, with his blood-slicked lips, hadn’t mentioned his servant’s name again.
“…A pity, heh, I haven’t… killed Ranshel yet…”
In Zavad’s eyes, there was now a more intense bloodlust than when he had just crushed Baha’s body.
“How dare you speak of anyone with that mouth? If you want to preserve your corpse, shut up and die.”
“……Heh, heh.”
“The Count is also pitiable. To have raised something like you as a precious son and made you the Holy Commander.”
Baha swallowed blood and burst out laughing as if Zavad’s words were absurd.
“What does that… matter? My background… is all just a fake made for the mission…”
“……What nonsense are you talking about?”
“Heh, well, it’s the same for Ranshel, but…”
Zavad didn’t have the energy to waste on a man in a daze just before death.
Naturally, he wanted to ignore him, but it bothered him that Baha kept mentioning his servant’s name.
“I don’t know why you’ve been dragging someone else’s property into this since a while ago. It seems you want to drive a wedge between Ranshel and me, but do you think I would ever cast my servant aside because of that?”
“Heh, that would be… good too. Ranshel seemed like… he wanted to fulfill the mission well. Keep him with you properly until the end…”
Zavad found it hard to swallow his surging annoyance.
He should just let it go regardless of what a dying man babbled, but he didn’t know why his nerves were so on edge.
“It’s impressive that you can babble such nonsense even with a crushed body. I don’t know what meaning there is in spending your final moments on something so useless.”
“You are… quite loyal. Ranshel… it was worth him devoting his whole body, wasn’t it? The ‘training’… was done right…”
Zavad’s eyes glinted fiercely.
He didn’t have the strength left to hold anything with his arms, but he looked around, his eyes tracing the claymore he had plunged into the ground.
‘I really should gouge out his eyes.’
It would be fitting to let him wander as a blind man even in death so he can never look for Zavad’s servant.
Zavad reached out a trembling hand, barely trying to pull out the sword, but his fingers, bent like claws, didn’t move as he wished.
In the meantime, Baha was still wagging his tongue.
“Do you really… trust that boy? That terrible boy…?”
“Do not try to defile what is mine. It is merely pathetic.”
“Wow, you’re so… great, I want to tell you something…”
Baha curled his lips, which could no longer even form a smile, and whispered as if shedding a snake’s skin.
“There is an organization called… Nameless. They buy children for a pittance, raise them as assassins, and sell them again. I came… to kill the Pope.”
“…….”
“Ranshel… grew up with me there… heh, everyone was raised for assassination…”
“…….”
“Who did Ranshel… come here to kill?”
