Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 44

Chapter 44
It happened in a literal instant. El-Cid, moving Leon’s body into an unfamiliar stance, struck the monster’s neck the very next moment.
Merak was the name of the second star of the Big Dipper, and also the second form of the Grand Chariot. It was a technique that released densely compressed Aura from within the body at a terrifying speed in a single slash.
“
Grk
?”
The giant monster, decapitated in one blow, coughed up a mist of blood. Its durability of not even budging against Caesare’s hammer or Khan’s flurry of blows, couldn’t withstand even a single strike from this.
Black blood dripped from the unhealing wound—its toxicity and malevolence sizzled as it melted the ground. A hiss rose from the earth, proof of the venom and evil energy embedded in the fluid.
Arms that were severed a beat later thudded to the ground. The two massive limbs lay helplessly on the ground.
The monster hadn’t failed to block. It had reacted instinctively, and yet the slash had torn through its defense and taken its head.
Its eyes, filled now with a different kind of horror, stared not at Leon, but at the sword in his hand. That such destructive force had come from someone not even a Swordmaster?
“
Guh... grk
...!”
The once-limitless power surging through it drained like a receding tide. With its neck severed, even muttering a spell became impossible.
And still, the monster desperately clutched its head. It couldn’t regenerate, but its life force was astonishing. Even with every vein, bone, and nerve severed, it remained alive by sheer will as long as it kept the pieces in place.
“Still alive with your neck cut? That’s pathetic,” El-Cid scoffed, speaking through Leon’s lips. “Or is this what you’re into? Then ditch your foreign god and worship a dullahan instead—they walk around just fine without a head.”
“How... insolent...!”
Enraged by the mockery, the monster howled, blood spilling from its throat. With two arms holding its head, it clenched its other two fists.
Even headless, the thing could still fight. Planting its eight legs firmly, it could minimize recoil, and with just its tail and two fists, it could still smash enemies to bits. With the ritual setup of City Swallowing at its back, it glared at Leon, ready to die fighting.
“Oh, you’ve got grit.”
El-Cid chuckled, lifting the sword again.
Truthfully, he was pushing himself—or rather, Leon. He’d meant to finish it in one strike, but using Leon’s body dulled the power. His fingertips trembled subtly, signaling their limits.
Whether he could endure another strike was a gamble, but even so, Leon didn’t hesitate to give El-Cid his approval.
El-Cid.
“I know, I know.”
El-Cid raised the Holy Sword overhead. A stance that made his intention so clear: a high guard, blade pointed skyward, radiating divine light. He was going to cut.
Leon emptied his mind. His eyes, cleared of all thoughts, turned transparent like glass—and the world before him transformed. He could now see it: the flow of air, the vibration of matter, the warping of space.
In that shared vision, he realized—this was the peak of what Rodrick’s Vision could attain.
Heavenly Core First Form: Dubhe.
And again, Leon couldn’t even see it.
What the hell...?!
Though he experienced that moment more deeply than anyone, Leon couldn’t comprehend the sword’s principle nor how his body had moved. It was beyond even an instant.
The moment he thought to swing, it had already landed. His understanding of swordsmanship shattered. Only the aftershock in his muscles and bones told him it had even happened.
“Kraaaaah!”
This time, the monster was truly split in two. Black blood sprayed from its bisected form, along with the residue of exolaw within, and thick, tar-like smoke boiled outward.
It was the accumulation of sin—an abomination built upon thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of deaths. A mass of guilt no redemption could erase.
Inside the now-cleaved body, the priest—soaked in blood—screamed, “Die! Die! All of you die with me!”
An immense amount of energy condensed into a singular point like a keg of gunpowder seconds from ignition. It was a preparation for a self-detonation so wicked it consumed even the soul, aimed to widen the dimensional tear of City Swallowing while destroying the entire labyrinth.
That would be the end.
“I saw that coming from a mile away,” El-Cid said and smirked coldly, moving into stance once more. “That’s why I held back. So I’d have strength left over for this final strike.”
The true power of Grand Chariot lay in its chaining techniques. Two strikes were better than one, and three better than two. Leon couldn’t master even one, but if the Holy Sword bore the recoil himself, a single-use finisher was possible.
A vertical cut was followed by a horizontal one in the manifestation of the Grand Chariot’s Chain Secret Technique: North Star Cross. An X-shaped cataclysm formed as Dubhe and Merak converged, and blinding starlight surged in every direction.
Only Leon could see it. The light bursting from El-Cid’s sword split the smoke cloud in two and cleaved the crystal of life force at its core.
The light did not just cut matter. It severed the evil amassed by the priest, and even the rift in space created by City Swallowing.
“Im...possible...” the priest muttered in disbelief.
The monster’s body, now quartered, tilted backward. Its last act of defiance failed, and it moved no more.
The dimensional rift behind it pulled the creature in. To be devoured by the very crack it had created—what a pitiful ending. Even the priest let out a mad, hollow laugh.
That was when Leon and El-Cid saw something appearing behind the priest. A gaping mouth opened and devoured him, right as he was being pulled into the dimensional tear.
In that single instant, the dimensional gate vanished.
“Was that... the thing...?”
El-Cid, once again returned to sword form, confirmed, —Yeah.
The creature summoned by City Swallowing, the thing meant to swallow an entire city with the hook—it had brushed past them. Had they been even seconds later, they all would’ve died.
Understanding that, Leon broke out in a cold sweat and said, “That was way too close.”
He finally lowered his sword and collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t move another inch, not even if someone put a knife against his throat. His knees buckled, his fingers wouldn't twitch. He had never been so utterly drained before.
A moment later, Caesare and the others caught up.
“Brother Leon!”
Caesare reached him first and supported his body.
“Bishop Caesare...” Leon muttered, all tension leaving his body.
“You don’t need to say a word. Just rest a moment.”
After checking Leon over, Caesare exhaled in relief.
“There are some minor spasms and blood congestion, but no major injuries. Thank the Goddess.”
Karen then popped her head in with a chirpy voice.
“Hey, rookie! We really won, right? I saw a big flash and poof from far away, and then that thing was gone. Was that you?”
Khan, now beside Karen, joined in noisily.
“Right?! And what about that ritual-whatever thing? I’ve got no clue what happened, so you better explain!”
Blood was still leaking from his side, but he didn’t seem to care—he just brushed the gore off his fists.
Leon’s consciousness was starting to fade, but he offered a brief explanation. City Swallowing had been stopped, and the priest had been devoured by his own ritual, most certainly dead.
Ah, shoot.
Sensing he was at his limit, Leon turned to Caesare with a weak request.
“Bishop Caesare, I think I’m about to pass out. Could you carry me?”
“Pardon...?”
“Please...”
He collapsed before he could finish the sentence.
El-Cid, watching this pathetic sight, chuckled and said, —Good work, kid.
The fact he’d stayed conscious this long was impressive. A normal person would’ve blacked out after the first Secret Art. That was how extreme the recoil from the Grand Chariot was.
Not once, but three times—and finishing with the Chain Secret Art, no less. He wouldn’t be swinging a sword for a while. If he’d pushed any further, he might’ve been permanently crippled.
Then, with a loud rumble, the labyrinth created by exolaw began to collapse. The others panicked briefly but quickly hoisted Leon up and ran at full speed.
They didn’t know where the exit was. This space hadn’t been built on normal logic, and neither was the way out. However, while fleeing, the rush team managed to rendezvous with the left-behind Conrad and, somehow, escape.
Thus ended the raid of Evil.
***
As Caesare burst out of the collapsing labyrinth with Leon over his shoulders, El-Cid—watching from within—let out a heavy sigh.
—
Whew
. That was dangerously close this time.
There were many unexpected developments. Leon, unable to even manifest his Aura, had encountered Evil and stumbled into a conspiracy that could consume a city.
He could’ve turned his back and used inexperience as an excuse, but he didn’t. Fortunately, he’d roped in powerhouses like Caesare and Khan. Without them, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.
—You could’ve helped, you know. It’s not like you were doing anything but watching.
—...
—What was that?
El-Cid sounded exasperated at the Goddess’ reply.
—Listen, you ditz. If the Hero dies, what’s the Saintess supposed to do? Obviously, you safeguard the Hero first!
Apparently, that struck home—the other side didn’t respond.
—Well, whatever. The crisis is over, that’s what matters. Sudden disasters are just part of a Hero’s job. He hadn’t hit a wall in a while, so this was a good wake-up call.
Growth couldn’t be smooth and easy. A Hero had to face overwhelming foes, shiver in fear, bleed, and weep through hardship to grow stronger. Someone once said: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” and El-Cid agreed with that completely.
—...
Then, listening to the void, El-Cid murmured again, —Yeah, makes sense. Nothing I can do. That was a loophole I exploited because the seal’s still in place.
The Holy Sword had descended to the world a year earlier than prophesied. As a result, most of its power had been sealed. El-Cid could do little more than whisper advice or emit purifying light.
However, El-Cid had used that limitation to his advantage. A seal was restriction and an enchainment. With most functions locked down, the laws of causality had loosened just enough.
Just barely enough for El-Cid to possess Leon’s body for a short while.
—One month,
huh
?
However, even that small use of the loophole carried a price. The laws of causality had now imposed their penalty. For the next month, El-Cid’s consciousness wouldn’t be able to surface. Thinking of leaving the still-inexperienced Leon on his own, El-Cid felt a wave of worry rushing in.
—Well, fine. He’ll manage somehow.
El-Cid chose to trust the strength and resolve Leon had shown thus far. Even without him, Leon’s steps forward wouldn’t falter.
—If he just keeps training, he’ll hit B-rank in no time... He’s seen my swordsmanship too, so maybe he’ll learn at least two forms of the Grand Chariot... Before heading to the Titan Mountains, he should at least be able to take care of himself...
Even as he muttered, his consciousness dimmed.
This must be the penalty
, he thought.
Accepting it, El-Cid closed his eyes within the sanctum of the Holy Sword, a realm of consciousness where only the Hero may tread, a place Leon could not yet reach.
He slept there once more, awaiting their reunion one month later.