On a night when the moon hung over the high tower's roof and only the tavern's lights illuminated the darkness, a certain boy took a step onto the street...

FLUTTER. Every time the boy took a step forward, his shabby cloak shifted, and blood continuously flowed from his bare feet.

"What is this!" a man shouted at the bloodstains etched into the street. "What's wrong!" his friend next to him asked, startled as he raised his oil lamp. The light dimly illuminated the night street in a circle.

"What kind of tracks are these?" The man followed the trail with his friend. And before long, he discovered the boy walking alone.

Dirty ash-gray hair and gaunt limbs visible beneath the cloak.

"A p-person?" Those who discovered the boy held their lamps closer in terror. Then, the half of the boy's face that had been hidden in the darkness was revealed.

DRIP. The diagonal wound tearing across the half-turned boy's face, from his forehead to his chin, was endlessly spewing blood.

"The wound is severe!" the friend cried out as he stepped closer to the boy. However, the moment he approached, the shadow wrapping a part of the boy's body wavered.

No, it wasn't a shadow. The darkness pretending to be a shadow bared its fangs from between the boy's cloak, from behind his feet, and from just outside the light.

It was as if half of the boy was made of darkness. The hair sticking straight up looked exactly like a horn.

"A-A demon!" The man urgently drew his sword to save his friend. At that, the boy flinched violently and backed away from the lamplight. The eyes of the boy, who had retreated into the realm of darkness, glowed fiercely.

"I am, I..." The boy seemed to be trying to say something. "Over there!" But the moment the shouts of other people who had found the bloodstains rang out, the boy...

─From Herto Linzer's ⌈The Broken Horn⌋.

* * *

The Berserker sat cross-legged ahead of the fight. It was the posture Norda warriors took whenever they meditated.

"Inhale... Exhale..."

In that state, she repeated her inhalations and exhalations. With every breath out, distracting thoughts vanished, and with every breath in, her fighting spirit swelled.

It was a fighting spirit as pure as the snow piled atop a peak, and as cold as the millennia-old ice crystals lingering beneath it.

'You will lose.'

"..."

However, there was no such thing as complete enlightenment. At least, not for her.

'You know this. He cut what you could not cut.'

"... The amount of magic power doesn't determine victory or defeat."

The voice seeped into her mind as she tried to maintain her composure. At this, the Berserker bit her lip.

'Hahaha.' A voice identical to her own echoed in a corner of her mind.

'Usually, that's true. But is magic power all he has? That's not it, is it? You can't beat him.'

"It doesn't matter."

'Why? How does it not matter to challenge an opponent you can't beat?'

"In some fights, there is meaning even in defeat."

'Well... You aren't wrong, but does that even apply to the fight you're about to have now?'

"The meaning is─"

'You have no intention of learning anything from him, no will to establish a rank and follow him, nor have you staked anything on it.'

It was a voice that pierced through nothing but the painfully bitter truth.

'Or do you just want to have your shortcomings validated all over again? Why? You already know them, yet you turn a blind eye to them. If you're going to ignore them again this time, what value is there in this action?'

"... I, the Berserker."

'If you're going to play dumb, then just play dumb. Otherwise, brace yourself to face it directly.'

She didn't want to hear it. The Berserker felt the urge to cover her ears.

If she could just silence that voice—which sliced through her skin and tore at her muscles to bare every shameful flaw she wanted to hide—she would do anything.

'Wandering around with the answer right behind your back... thirty years of that is enough, isn't it?'

"Stop!"

... No. She couldn't do it. If she could have, she would have done it a long time ago.

"Stop it."

DRIP.

The Berserker dropped her head forward as heavy tears spilled from her eyes. Her chest, her heart ached as if it were being ripped apart. It felt exactly as if she had lost her other half.

"Please, stop it..."

She stared at the one who was stuck in that era, no longer growing. She faced the one who, shriveled and withered, dyed the pure white snow-capped mountain with blood.

"You were the same way, so don't blame me."

As expected, she didn't want to see things like this.

"You chose to fight knowing you would lose, and you didn't even listen to me when I tried to stop you. So don't try to stop me now."

'I still don't want to face it.'

'... That was to save you.'

"The Berserker never asked for that."

'Then was it for my own sake?'

"It wasn't for the Berserker's sake, either."

'Never.'

"If you really did it for me, you should have gone with me."

She would not admit it.

* * *

3:40 AM. Because I liked leaving a buffer of 10 to 20 minutes before an appointed time, I headed out early.

"Hmm."

And I was met with closed city gates. This was the fate of a man who had forgotten that the gates only opened after sunrise.

"What do I do about this..."

Good grief. Assuming there wouldn't be space inside the city—more accurately, because I figured there wouldn't be an empty lot large enough for us to fight to our hearts' content without causing collateral damage—I had deliberately set the meeting place outside the city.

To think the city gates would block my path. Is this what they mean by knowing one thing but not the other?

"Waiting around... would be a bit much, right?"

Even so, I couldn't just sit here waiting, only to meet up with the Berserker and ask to postpone our arrangement.

Come to think of it, it seemed like it would be difficult to leave the city even during the day. After all, that incident had occurred on our very first day here.

"Can't be helped, I guess..."

Endure the checkpoints that had undoubtedly grown stricter due to the demon worshipers, or just sneak out, fight, and sneak back in?

After fiercely debating with my conscience, I ultimately chose the latter. I wanted to wait if I had my way, but considering the nature of my persona, it couldn't be helped.

My persona was someone who was conscious of morality, but prioritized his own standards over laws and rules.

"Yaaawn. When is the shift change..."

In that regard, I'm sorry, and please absolutely do not spot me. If I get caught, we're both screwed.

SWOOSH.

"Whoa! A sudden gust of wind...?"

I wrapped my body in magic power and ran vertically up the castle wall. Then, I jumped as high as I could, avoiding the guards' line of sight.

Perhaps it was because my magic power was black, or because the moon was hidden behind the clouds. Not a single guard spotted me suspended in the air.

Even if there was someone whose hat nearly flew off from the wind generated when I kicked off the wall.

SWOOOOOSH.

Meanwhile, my body, floating dozens of meters in the air, began to plummet downward. Because I had jumped vertically, my landing spot wasn't very far from the wall.

TAP.

"Huh, I think something just dropped..."

"Were you dozing off? What are you talking about."

Still, I managed to land just outside the space reached by the light.

Listening to the guards' conversation, I gave thanks for my magic power being black.

Then, I glided toward the forest. That was at 3:47 AM.

"Phew. Success."

I always think this, but coming out early was a truly good habit. It allowed me to deal with variables like this.

... Well, going forward, the Berserker is the problem.

But seriously, what do I do? I don't really need to care about her situation, but... won't she get caught coming out? That would make things difficult for me too.

"... Should I have just used the Temple instead?"

Oh, of course I know this is an impossible wish. Wasn't the reason for doing this at dawn in the first place because I didn't want the Inquisitor, Deathbringer, and the Archmage to catch me?

And in this situation, do it at the Temple? That would just be me practically begging to give them an opening.

HOOT-HOOT-HOOT.

Meanwhile, an owl's hoot echoed from the forest where I had stopped. 3:57 AM. The appointed time was right around the corner.

THUD!

Was the Berserker unable to come at this rate? Right before that thought crossed my mind, I sensed a large yet stealthy presence.

"I apologize for being late."

4:00 AM. Right on the dot.

"Are we doing it here?"

"No."

I had merely stood here because I didn't know if she would show up or not; I had no intention of doing it in this spot. The reason being that if we did it here, we would undoubtedly be caught by the sentries.

"We're going further."

In that regard, I intended to put more distance between us and the castle walls. The Berserker also agreed.

The two of us ran side by side through the night forest just like that.

"The way the Berserker sees it, this place should do. At this distance, the city won't notice."

And after running for about 20 minutes, the Berserker spoke up first.

"If we go any further, it will be difficult to return to the city."

As a bonus, she even made a remark that remarkably considered the aftermath of the fight.

"... Let's do it here."

Of course, it was just unexpected that the Berserker had considered the aftermath; there was absolutely nothing wrong with her words themselves.

Therefore, I also agreed with her and came to a halt.

Since I remembered the sun rising around 6 o'clock, as long as the fight didn't drag on for over an hour, we would be able to use the cover of darkness to return to the city. Accompanied by a heavily flag-raising thought, of course.

"..."

"..."

Putting that aside, all that remained between us now was our promised spar.

As if we had agreed upon it beforehand, silence settled between me and the Berserker. This happened because it was my first time having an official spar like this, and because the Berserker seemed somewhat conflicted on the inside.

SWISH.

Still, the wait wasn't long. The Berserker moved first.

"The honor I bear in my homeland is Berserker, one who proves her valor through blood."

THUD.

Having set her oil lamp down on the ground, she gripped her ink-black halberd with her two empty hands.

Her two solid legs were spread at an optimal distance, supporting her body.

"With the weight of that name, I wish to challenge you now."

It didn't look like a formalized ceremony or a salute to her opponent. If I had to be specific, it was closer to a preparatory stance right before lunging in.

"This challenge shall be carried out as fiercely as the edge of a blade, yet no one shall be buried beneath the falling snow."

Even so, it was a display of respect.

An unadorned, utterly primal respect—one that was ironically clearer precisely because it lacked the superfluous baggage of formal etiquette.

"Honor to the victor."

Her golden eyes shone brightly without a single trace of levity.

"Enlightenment to the defeated."

And meeting that gaze, I opened my mouth without realizing it.

"... Fairness and justice to the duel."

Was it just my imagination? The Berserker's eyes seemed to curve slightly as she looked at me.

Although, before I could even confirm it, the halberd in her two hands was thrust forward.

"It is an honor to fight you."

The tip of the halberd, a blade resembling a spear, pointed toward my heart.

It had finally begun. My instincts, rather than my ears, recognized the start of the duel.

BANG!

The Berserker lunged at me with a wide grip on her halberd. The moment she kicked off the ground, a sound like a thin metal plate being struck rang out.

The vermilion light of the oil lamp coated the ink-black halberd with unflowing magma.

CLANG.

On the other hand, rather than lunging at her, I properly readied my sword in place.

The Zweihander, which I had drawn beforehand and held so that it touched the ground, bounced upward after being struck by the toe of my shoe.

CLANG.

My Zweihander wedged precisely between the spearhead and axe blade of the halberd, blocking its advance.

The halberd and Zweihander, interlocked at a slant, vibrated violently from the impact of the clash. Even though I had braced myself, my wrists tingled sharply.

But I couldn't stop in this state.

Her wrists and mine moved flexibly, rotating the halberd and Zweihander in a circle. It was an attempt to free the wedged blade, but because we had both made the exact same judgment, we only ended up drawing a semicircle in the air.

SCREEECH.

In that case, pull back. The Berserker and I stepped backwards, untangling our crossed weapons. In the process, the metal scraped against metal, producing a spine-chilling sound.

SWOOSH!

After that came another attack. The Berserker charged straight at me while gripping the end and middle of her shaft. If one were told to dodge, it was a trajectory that even a normal civilian could see and evade.

But if she were going to launch such a predictable attack, how could she be called the Berserker?

The spearhead that had been thrust forward was instantly pulled back, performing a stab in a different trajectory.

My Zweihander was much the same.

It was massive, but it was still only 5kg. The smoothly rotating sword clashed with the spearhead. CLANG! With a heavy sound, the halberd and Zweihander were pushed apart to either side.

SWOOSH!

If I couldn't use this momentum, I would have to hand over my title as an action game veteran.

I twisted my ankles sharply and spun my body. At the same time, the sword blade, spinning like a windmill along with my body, accelerated and aimed for the Berserker once again.

CLANG! Once again, the halberd and Zweihander clashed. If the previous collision had been close to a cross, this time it was tilted like an X.

The angle between the crossed sword and halberd was too wide, and too narrow. They were slipping.

SWOOSH!

The blade that had struck the shaft suddenly slipped downward, abandoning the test of strength. Naturally, the halberd slipped upward.

"Hah!"

The problem was the halberd's reach.

My Zweihander's length was about 1.6 meters. The Berserker's halberd was about 2.5 meters.

If she thrusted in this state, I would be impaled cleanly, but I couldn't reach to stab her.

And the Berserker wasn't ignorant of that fact either.

Survival Instinct. The urgently activated skill provided evasion routes. Back away, or block with the sword.

"...!"

Of the two, I chose the latter.

Empowered by the system's correction, I put strength into my arms. The sword that had plummeted toward the ground was pulled up, blocking my front diagonally. My right hand gripped the ricasso of the True Zweihander to prepare for the ensuing impact.

Of course, if I did this, the Berserker's halberd could pull back again and thrust from a different trajectory, but...

GRIND!

As if I would let that happen.

Following the provided trajectory, I once again wedged my sword between the halberd's spearhead and axe blade.

CLACK. In that state, if I twisted my wrists and changed the blade's angle, the Zweihander's edge locked perfectly into the groove shaped like an upside-down omega.

Now, until I released it, or unless she abandoned her thrust and twisted it out, the Berserker could not retrieve her halberd.

Furthermore, its blade couldn't reach me either.

So then, what will you do?

How will you respond?

"As expected, you are...!"

At my unspoken question, the Berserker let out a sharp laugh. What she chose was the latter.

If so, what should I do? How should I respond?

I observed the Berserker and envisioned the next problem. It was like solving a complex puzzle.

It was fierce, but there was no need to worry about death; it was bold, yet fair and square; and there existed only the level of stress that would yield a sense of thrill once resolved.

That kind of puzzle.

"The Berserker will give it her all!"

CLANG!

Meanwhile, our weapons clashed once more, and the Berserker's shout pierced my ears.

It was as if she were sternly commanding me not to look away.

"So I ask that you give it your all as well!"

I didn't feel particularly bad about it.