Chapter 28: Slaying the Swordsman

Unlike the situation with the Weaver of Fate, the battle between the corpse-soul naga Vidnina and the swordsman was, from the very beginning, a clash of pure blade against blade.

All the swords Vidnina wielded came from Ryuji's previous game world, and one of them was infused with potent toxins. As an undead, Vidnina cared little for the etiquette of whether it was improper to use poison in a duel; she simply placed that longsword in her primary hand. When she delivered her first strike, it was with that very blade.

Yet, the moment the sword thrust forward, a voice resonated within her mind.

"You wield a poisoned blade; you are guilty, you are an evildoer!"

The voice was lofty and majestic, as if a judgment from the gods in the heavens. But Vidnina did not care in the least. To an undead, talk of sin or evil meant nothing.

Soon, however, Vidnina sensed something was amiss: the toxicity on her blade had been rendered inert. She realized then that the previous pronouncement was not directed at her, but at the poison itself. This, too, meant little to her, as she did not rely solely on toxins to fight. With a flick of her arms, wind blades manifested along her four swords, swirling like azure fish, darting back and forth across the steel.

This time, Vidnina faced no interference; wind blades were a manifestation of her own skill, not a foul substance. Even if her opponent wished to deem this a sin, he could not bring himself to make such a claim.

However, stripping away the poison was enough for the swordsman. In his eyes, anyone who relied on poison was a weakling of no consequence. Yet, he soon realized the situation had shifted. Vidnina was wielding her blades with the technique of the Z-pattern secret sword, and her strikes had begun to carry a trace of the "Eternal Night Sword Curtain." Unlike the sword arts of the Beka family, however, Vidnina’s version was accompanied by an ever-increasing density of dark, swirling wind blades surrounding her.

To Ryuji, it was clear that these wind blades were sustained by Vidnina’s mental energy; because she had deployed so many, even the slightest fluctuation could cause them to dissipate. To the swordsman, however, they were a provocation. He felt that if he did not face them head-on, he would lose something essential to his spirit.

He understood his own sword art better than anyone: it was a technique of the mind. The stronger his spirit, the more potent his swordsmanship; the more he believed in the justice of his cause, the more effective he was against what he deemed to be evil. But there was a catch: he could not retreat. The moment he faltered, he would be admitting that his convictions were flawed, and his sword art would fail entirely.

For this reason, no matter how powerful the enemy, he always met them directly, using his abilities to neutralize his opponent's skills. Having already negated Vidnina’s poison, he felt he had the upper hand. The swordsman gripped his sword with both hands, raised it high in a frontal stance, and charged toward Vidnina with all his might, executing an overhead strike.

It was a straightforward, frontal assault. A normal opponent would have chosen to dodge or meet it head-on. But no matter the choice, they would fall into his trap. If the opponent retreated, his own momentum would swell, and they would lose the initiative. If they met him head-on, it was even better; his technique, though appearing honorable and upright, was riddled with underhanded tricks hidden within the open strikes.

Vidnina, however, made neither choice. She did not retreat, nor did she meet him head-on. Instead, she crossed her four longswords in front of her into an 'X' shape and slashed at the swordsman from four different directions. She leveraged her superior size and strength, disregarding her own defense in a brutal trade of life for life.

This was the fatal weakness of the swordsman’s style. Though his spirit was immense, he was not undead; he was not a creature that feared no death. He practiced this art as much to project the image of righteousness as to intimidate his opponents into retreating before the fight even began.

Now, facing the same desperate choice from his enemy, he did not know how to react. His mind was saturated with the power of his sword art, his instincts guided by its flow, yet that flow was now being pulled by Vidnina’s momentum. The swordsman found himself charging directly into the curtain of blades Vidnina had unleashed.

By the time he realized his peril, he was in the most dangerous position imaginable. Yet, it was also the position of the strongest attack. A thought flashed through his mind: if he did not fear death, he could drive his sword into Vidnina’s heart even as her blades and wind cutters struck him. Even if her attack landed, he would have won.

But in that split second, hesitation took root. He was unwilling to sacrifice his life or suffer grievous injury for such a victory. That single moment of hesitation turned Vidnina’s opening into a lethal strike. Her four swords, fueled by wind blades, converged on a single point—exactly where the swordsman’s blade was positioned.

The swordsman finally understood his error. He had faltered at the critical moment. It was a crack in his mental fortitude; his momentum shattered, and his sword art plummeted in effectiveness. In technical terms, his "sword heart" had become unstable. For a heartbeat, he did not know how to swing his blade or how to defend himself; he stood there like a fool.

Vidnina would not miss such an opportunity. As his focus wavered, her sword art erupted in full. Her four blades pierced the swordsman’s body, then, using his torso as a pivot, she forced them outward in a violent shearing motion. Simultaneously, all the wind blades poured into the wounds, detonating within his body. His chest was reduced to palm-sized fragments, leaving only his head and limbs intact, spared only by the precision of Vidnina’s initial strike.