Chapter 11: Dragon Heart (6)

Renzo understood the hammer’s power the instant he saw it. Enough to regret his bold declaration that he would take the attack head-on.

Should he take back his words and dodge?

The thought briefly crossed his mind.

'As if I could run!'

He raised his greatsword in front of him.

'Can I knock it aside?'

No. Impossible.

Changing his mind, Renzo turned the flat of his greatsword toward it. If he tried to deflect it, his sword would be the one to break.

BOOOM!

The instant Mjolnir struck, cracks spread through the greatsword.

"Grrgh!"

Renzo gritted his teeth and summoned his Aura.

Imbuing a weapon with Aura was far easier and more powerful than manifesting it barehanded.

Yet even so, Mjolnir drove Renzo backward, both his feet scraping long tracks through the earth.

His greatsword was already as good as shattered. Only his Aura held it together, like a makeshift patch.

'How long is this thing going to keep pushing?!'

Shouldn’t it have bounced away after the initial impact?

It had already smashed his greatsword to hell, yet Mjolnir’s force refused to fade, as though it still meant to kill him.

As though the weapon had a will of its own.

"Hngh!"

Renzo’s eyes flared red. So did his hair and his entire body.

Neither Aura nor Mana, this was the third power he possessed. His last line of defense, and proof that his towering pride had been wounded.

Ares, the God of War.

Renzo’s Divine Power.

Ares’s Divine Power grew stronger the greater the danger its wielder faced in battle. The stronger the opponent. The greater the exhilaration of combat.

Renzo lived solely for whatever he found entertaining. Perhaps it had been inevitable that he would receive the Divine Power of the battle-crazed Ares.

'If I can just withstand this...!'

Even as he struggled to hold on, a smile spread across Renzo’s face.

Unbelievable as it was, this hammer was an extraordinary Divine Relic. Judging by its appearance, it was something even harder to believe.

'Mjolnir...!'

He had no idea how Frondier had suddenly produced it out of thin air. But if he could withstand it, it would be his.

At last, Mjolnir’s force gradually weakened. When it lost its momentum entirely and began to fall—

"Got—!"

Renzo reached for its handle. His greatsword fell to pieces, the fragments clattering down.

But then—

WHOOOSH!

Mjolnir flew off through the air of its own accord, returning to Frondier’s hand.

"..."

Dumbfounded, Renzo stared, his empty hand still outstretched.

He had thought it would finally be within his grasp.

Then he realized something terrifying.

"... You."

Renzo spoke, disbelief written across his face.

"How are you controlling Mjolnir?"

Right now, that mattered more than how he had acquired it.

How was he controlling it?

Fine, suppose he had obtained it through some extraordinary stroke of fortune—as a reward for a past-life achievement on par with bringing peace to five nations.

But controlling it meant that Mjolnir had acknowledged him.

Thor was said to have used Mjolnir to shatter his enemies wherever they might be.

He could send it flying from anywhere and summon it back to his hand at any time. That was one of Mjolnir’s abilities: moving of its own accord according to its master’s will.

But only Thor could do that.

No one else who had held Mjolnir had ever been able to throw it and call it back as Thor did.

'But this bastard just did it.'

Which meant that Mjolnir, Thor’s Divine Relic, had acknowledged a human: Frondier.

Frondier tilted his head at Renzo’s question. Then, as if to show off, he played with Mjolnir right before his eyes.

He made it float, moved it left and right through the air, spun it around, and settled it back into his hand.

Renzo watched blankly.

"I just... can."

"... That’s impossible."

Renzo’s eyes blazed. He strode forward, exuding tremendous pressure.

"I refuse to acknowledge it."

He approached barehanded, without his greatsword. Yet his presence was more savage than when he had been armed.

* * *

The abilities of weapons in Etius were fundamentally based on mythology.

Mjolnir was no exception. It didn’t inherently possess the power of lightning, nor was it impossible for anyone else to lift.

There was just one thing.

Only Thor could make Mjolnir fly through the air and return to his hand.

People on this continent believed that anyone acknowledged by Mjolnir could control it as Thor did, but that had never been verified.

It might be true. It might not.

'But my Mjolnir is a fake made with Weaving.'

We were inside Menosorpo.

I wasn’t controlling Mjolnir because it had acknowledged me.

Mjolnir, Gram, Iocheira—whatever it was, I could control it in midair within Menosorpo. Though they would all disappear if they passed beyond the magic circle’s range.

'I can guess what he’s misunderstanding.'

But I had no intention of correcting him.

Because it wasn’t my problem.

"How dare a bastard like you!"

Renzo kicked off the ground and charged.

I threw Mjolnir again. This time, Renzo used his Divine Power to dodge it as he closed in on me.

Under my control, Mjolnir flew at him again, and again he dodged.

The cycle repeated. Even so, Renzo steadily drew closer.

'... Damn it.'

My side hurt where Renzo had hit me.

And it wasn’t just my side.

The fake Dragon Heart kept draining my life force, like sand trickling out of a sandcastle. It might look unchanged from the outside, only to collapse all at once.

I was certain my body would crumble the same way.

Even if I defeated Renzo, would I survive?

'Don’t think about it.'

That was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

Focus on beating Renzo first.

"Your attack pattern is too simple!" Renzo shouted.

As if to prove his point, he seemed to be dodging Mjolnir more easily now.

Of course he was. All I was doing was steering Mjolnir toward his position. It was an annoying homing missile, but nothing Renzo couldn’t evade.

One punch from Renzo had left me on the brink of death.

Whatever his next attack was, wherever it hit me, I would die.

Before I knew it, that deadly range was right upon me.

"My turn now," Renzo growled.

Mjolnir flew back to me, landing in my right hand.

I tightened my grip.

If he dodged this attack, it would be Renzo’s turn. There was absolutely no way I could dodge or block him.

So this attack had to hit.

Our eyes met. His fearless gaze seemed to say, Go on. Try to hit me.

I swung Mjolnir horizontally. Seeing it coming, Renzo ducked.

On that trajectory, my attack could never hit him.

His smile deepened.

I had repeatedly thrown Mjolnir from a distance, as though I wanted to avoid close combat.

I had wielded Mjolnir alone, without any other weapons, as though I had nothing left to spare for them.

I had desperately hoped, again and again, that Renzo would believe it.

Weaving in Midair

Grade - Legendary

Gram

With my original Mana, I could maintain Gram for about five seconds.

I had swallowed a Dragon Heart, but invested most of its power in Mjolnir.

With the tiny grain of Mana I had left, I would weave Gram for exactly 0.5 seconds.

My horizontal swing with Mjolnir had never been aimed at Renzo in the first place.

Try dodging this, Renzo.

This is a blade you’ll never escape.

BANG!

Mjolnir passed over the ducking Renzo and struck the hilt of Gram, which had formed in midair. Gram spun once through the air.

SHICK!

It severed Renzo’s right arm, then vanished.

As I said before, human flesh could never withstand Gram.

"... Huh?"

Renzo stared blankly at the empty space on his right.

"Renzo," I said. "I don’t need acknowledgment from the likes of you."

* * *

'What...?'

Aten couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Frondier had cut off Renzo’s right arm.

Even watching from the sidelines, she couldn’t understand that bizarre phenomenon.

Frondier had struck empty air, and Renzo’s arm had been severed. That was all she could see.

'Incredible...'

But that wasn’t what mattered.

She hadn’t known who Renzo was, but after facing him, she understood his strength well enough.

He had to be one of the strongest people on the entire continent. And Frondier had cut off his arm.

Constel’s own Frondier the Human Sloth.

"... Ha."

Renzo turned his gaze from his missing right arm to Frondier.

His boldness and exhilaration were gone, replaced by flames of hatred.

"Can’t you see I still have my left arm?!"

Roaring, he lunged at Frondier.

"No!" Aten cried.

Frondier could neither dodge nor block Renzo’s attack. And if the next blow landed, he would surely—

Aten reached out, but she was clearly too late.

Yet even faster than that...

Evans Family Weapon Arts

Elin Evans’s Unique Sword Form

Single Thread

Something came flying in faster still.

A figure shot forward from behind Frondier, the sword in her hand cloaked in blue Aura.

Her entire body traced a single straight line, looking almost like a lone frozen image.

Her airborne strike didn’t even follow an arc. It shot toward Renzo in a clean, unerring line.

"Ghh!"

With a hiss of air, the blade skimmed past Renzo’s throat.

He barely dodged and retreated.

A woman stood before him, shielding Frondier.

"Frondier."

A calm voice. Through the long brown hair fluttering around her face, gentle eyes looked at him.

"Are you okay?"

It was Elin.

Frondier turned his dazed gaze toward her.

"... I was waiting for reinforcements, but..."

"You didn’t expect me?"

"... No, I didn’t."

His face a mess of blood and sweat, Frondier let out a small laugh.

Elin watched him for a moment.

"Who the hell are you, bitch?"

Renzo fixed Elin with a furious glare.

"Want to die beside him?"

Even missing an arm, Renzo was too much for Elin to handle.

But then—

"Hey, stray dog."

Another voice rang out.

An ordinary-looking man, the sort one might see anywhere, walked up with an ordinary gait.

Renzo’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

"... Eden Hamerlot."

"I was wondering where you’d gone scavenging for trash this time."

Eden’s cold gaze pierced Renzo as he approached.

"Looks like you’re not dead enough yet."

"Cut the bullshit."

Their eyes shot daggers at each other, so sharp and murderous they seemed capable of inflicting wounds through their gazes alone.

"You won’t escape this time."

"You’re going to catch me? Have you ever managed it even once?"

"That’s why I’m not alone this time."

As though Eden’s words were a signal, people appeared on every side of Renzo.

Silver armor. Spears and swords aligned in ranks. A legion of steel.

The Terst Imperial Knights.

And the woman leading them was Philly Terst.

She had arrived with every one of her personal guards.

"... Frondier."

Philly looked at him in bewilderment.

She still knew little about Frondier. Their few conversations had shown her he had a rather sharp mind.

But however little she knew, there was one thing she was certain of.

It was impossible for a Constel student to cut off Renzo’s right arm. It wouldn’t happen even if heaven and earth were overturned.

And yet...

"Renzo, there’s nowhere to run."

Eden was right. Defeat loomed ever more clearly on Renzo’s face.

After confirming that, Eden walked over to Frondier and bowed his head deeply.

"... First, I owe you an apology. And my boundless gratitude, too. What you’ve accomplished today is something the Empire has never—"

Eden couldn’t finish. Nothing had happened to him.

It was simply that the boy he was addressing had begun to topple.

Aten was the first to rush forward.

She alone knew the state Frondier’s body was in.

This wasn’t his strength giving out.

He wasn’t collapsing from exhaustion.

Like a puppet whose strings had snapped, Frondier abruptly tilted to one side.

As though every last flame of life had burned away.

As Frondier’s body fell, it almost seemed to make a sound.

CLATTER.

"Frondier!!!"

The Snow Woman, Aten Terst.

Never before had she cried out so loudly.