Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 125

Light? No, it’s web!

Leon instinctively recognized what the attack was and dodged aside. There was no way to cut through dozens—hundreds—of strands of web with a sword. It was like trying to slice away a waterfall; even if he cut it, the strands would only split into two and keep falling.

A heartbeat later, the silver-gray flash slammed into where he’d just been, and the mirrored floor was pierced as if it were paper. Even full plate armor wouldn’t have made much difference.

Seeing that, Leon swallowed dryly. That flash was a tightly knotted, tangled webbing.

It punched through the mirror floor? Even hammering at it with Aura Sword only left shallow scratches...

Without even concentrating power into a single point, each strand had penetrated the surface, showing sharpness beyond reason. He’d thought spider silk was just sticky, but this was something else entirely.

El-Cid read his thoughts and corrected his disciple.

—You’re wrong there, buddy.

What?

—Spider silk is an incredibly strong material. For the same thickness, it’s over three times tougher and more resilient than steel. And that’s talking about ordinary silk—so imagine what it’s like from a monster.

It was no wonder legendary treasures were said to include armor woven from Arachne’s silk. It was rarely seen, only because the processing methods were highly specialized and complex, and the material so difficult to obtain that even hunting dozens of those rare creatures might not yield enough for a single suit of armor.

“Brother Leon!” Geoff shouted urgently.

Leon turned to see the unit members clustered together at some point. He didn’t need to ask why.

Something was slowly rising from the mirrored ground—faces he vaguely recognized, familiar yet strange, emerging in a ring around Units 8 and 11.

“No way... Unit 14?!”

“Even Berger?!”

“So it’s not just once and done?!”

They had already defeated them, but here they were, as good as new. Berger’s right arm, once severed, was back as if nothing had happened, and the others were whole as well.

And it wasn’t just four of them. Alongside Unit 14, two more full units appeared.

Even at a glance, that was twelve A-ranks against their eight—hard odds for the defenders.

Well... on paper, anyway, Leon thought.

The situation was more dangerous than before, yes—but if asked whether they were at a disadvantage, Leon could firmly shake his head. They still had the upper hand because they had a certain someone on their side.

“Karen!”

She turned the instant he called, and he only nodded as no further words were needed. That was all the Assassin Master needed to see.

Having held back her power so far to focus on teamwork, Karen grinned as soon as she had his permission to break free. Twelve A-ranks? Whatever the ranks of the original people were, these were nothing but puppets under a monster’s control. No one was going to survive Karen once she went all in.

It happened in a literal instant. Without warning, she vanished from where she stood and reappeared behind an unfamiliar duplicate.

Shadow Leap.

“What—!”

Even their own allies, Garlond among them, stared in shock—but they were already a beat too late. The copies tried to turn, only to realize—

“Too slow.”

That its head was already gone.

In a single motion, Karen had taken it and disappeared again, leaving no trace to follow. Strike and fade, keeping the initiative—that was the assassin’s creed and ultimate technique. Her ghostlike precision froze friend and foe alike.

“Indeed,” Geoff said, stepping forward confidently and raising his sword. “I don’t think we’re at a disadvantage at all.”

Having fewer numbers was only a disadvantage when the skill level was comparable. With Karen and Geoff tipping the scales of power balance heavily in their favor, this was a winnable fight.

Apparently dissatisfied with the stalemate, the Kaleider let out a piercing screech from somewhere unseen, and the duplicates immediately charged.

Some held swords, some spears. Some were mages, some spirit mages. They all wore the faces of expedition members. Now eleven instead of twelve, they attacked without any thought. At the front, Geoff met them head-on.

“Evlogía,” he muttered, and strange letters and lines glowed across his silver full plate.

To him, the world slowed to a third of its normal pace. It was the ability of his holy weapon. At the same time, he gripped his sword hilt and lowered his stance.

One slash.

The flash of his blade tore through the throats of two enemies. Expert-level mastery enhanced by triple acceleration was enough to instantly kill any A-rank caught off guard.

Now it was eight against nine. With the numbers nearly even, the duplicates were quickly pressed. Show even the smallest opening, and Karen would assassinate them from behind; focus too much on the rear, and Geoff’s lightning sword would strike from the front.

He can’t maintain that speed forever, but in a short fight, he’s among the strongest in his tier.

Even Leon wasn’t confident he could block or dodge those strikes perfectly. At best, he could avoid a killing blow and hold out for a short time.

The duplicate posing as Berger lasted a little longer than the rest of them, but soon fell with a gaping wound in its neck and heart, and it didn’t take long for all twelve duplicates to be wiped out. It was a complete victory for Units 8 and 11. However—

“Just as I thought...” Geoff sighed, raising his sword again.

The mirrored floor rippled once again. Exactly as he’d suspected when he saw Unit 14 earlier—if they could reappear once, they could do it again after being defeated a second time. War of attrition was unwinnable against this monster.

And that wasn’t the only problem. Twelve duplicates rose from the mirrors again and then began to split further.

“Dammit! How many are there?!”

“If I’d known this, I’d have spent all my money before coming on this mission.”

“Hmph, maybe this is my grave...”

Despair crept into the team’s voices as the enemy count jumped to twenty-four, then forty-eight.

Even with Karen and Geoff, this was too many. Even if they somehow cut them all down, the monsters would just reappear, meaning they’d eventually lose.

Only Leon spoke with puzzlement amidst the rather heavy talks.

“What are you all talking about?” he asked the rest of the team.

“Huh?”

Leon said, “How many came out? Same as before—twelve total, right?”

“What...?!”

Their expressions shifted instantly. Leon’s eyes held genuine confusion, making it hard to believe he was lying. That left only one possible truth to explain the scene.

“An illusion?! An illusion that can fool even our senses?!”

The stunned spirit mage brought their hands together, summoning a sudden whirlwind. The gust ruffled clothes, hair, and eyebrows. The duplicates’ clothing, hair, and eyebrows moved as well.

“Look closely!” the spirit mage shouted.

Once its existence was discovered, the Kaleider’s illusion couldn’t trick an A-rank’s trained eye.

“Some of them are moving differently from the wind’s direction! Those are all just illusions with no substance!”

With the confirmation from the spirit mage, eyes lit up all around. If there was a path to victory where there had been none, there was no longer a reason to die quietly. Elite fighters standing back-to-back quickly exchanged words.

“Any way to tell them apart mid-fight?”

“If the illusions are light-based, maybe we can use heat—”

“Too difficult. This fight’s going to be harder than the first.”

“We’ll have to stay defensive, focus on counterattacks.”

“Let’s see what they’ve got!”

Geoff took command of the group and assigned Leon a special role. After all, he was the only one with eyes that were immune to the deception of the illusion. He was the one who could deliver the decisive blow to end this dragging battle.

“Brother Leon, find the spider and take it out! Even if they keep it at twelve, we can’t just keep fending them off forever!”

“Understood, Sir Geoff!” Leon shouted back and darted his eyes around.

Victory hinged on killing the kaleidoscope spider hiding in the mirrors and endlessly spawning duplicates. With the Stigma of the Observer to pierce illusions and see the real thing, Leon was the ideal man for the job.

Where are you?

He focused, speeding up the processing in his brain. The surge of incoming information made his head throb, but this much wasn’t even trouble.

Ten seconds passed, feeling more like ten minutes. He scanned every mirrored surface, one by one. Not a single blink—bloodshot streaks filled his sclera, but his focus never wavered. And then—

“There you are!”

Leon spotted something moving inside a mirror and leaped—it was the Kaleider. The eight pairs of compound eyes and twelve legs of the spider turned toward him as if to declare it was a creature of another dimension. If a human expression had to be assigned to it, it would have been one of shock.

I’ll cut you!

Seizing that moment of paralysis, Leon sheathed his Holy Sword for Eclipse and brought it down in a strike that transformed compressed Aura into a blade of extreme heat.

A force that could slice clean through any surface, no matter how reflective and hard. Just as he expected, the mirror Kaleider had been hiding in split in two, its reflection vanishing without a trace.

“Did I get it?”

El-Cid answered that question.

—Get it, my ass, you idiot disciple.

A moment later, the Kaleider sprang from behind Leon. From its rear, another blast of web shot out—not at Leon, but surrounding him, layering into walls.

It wasn’t the kind of barrier he could hack through with a swing or two. The web twisted and knotted and then transformed into pristine mirrors showing every side.

“Tch.”

His vision spun with dizziness. With the expanded field of view from his Vision, every angle around him was now a mirror, flooding him with ten times the usual information. Keep this up, and his brain would fry or his eyes would go blind.

I have to narrow the field of view, minimize the strain, and take it down before the limit hits...!

Fighting through the dizziness, Leon raised his sword.

The Kaleider had already retreated into the mirrors again, roaming freely through the expanse of reflections it had created. With no physical constraints, its speed was too fast to track with the naked eye.

That speed is bad enough, but even if I attack the mirror it’s in, my sword won’t reach it. How do I hit it inside the mirror?

Eclipse had cut its mirror in half perfectly, yet it had emerged unscathed and attacked him from behind. Attacking the mirror alone wouldn’t work.

Waiting for it to come out wasn’t an option, either. Being in a room of mirrors, it wouldn’t risk itself when it could simply keep sending out duplicates or shooting webs until Leon dropped dead.

“I knew this is how you’d fight, you bastard.”

Sure enough, it seemed to have marked Leon as a threat. One of the duplicate fighting Units 8 and 11 was pulled away and placed right in front of him.

Of course, it was Berger. Skin covered in countless scars, spear in hand, the hardened veteran mercenary stared him down.

Damn.

The presence alone was on another level compared to when the copy Berger had to fight one-handed. He could feel it—step in, and he’d be skewered twice before he could blink.

There was a deadly gap in reach between a sword and a spear. The Berger duplicate moved first.

The thrust, too fast to see, sent Leon skidding back two steps. Even a perfect block left his hands tingling.

So this is the thrust of a top-tier spearman...!

The thrust—the primal essence and foundation of spear technique—was the axis of every attack method. Like a bow: the right arm anchors the shaft, the left pushes it forward, accelerating with full force. From ankle to knee, knee to waist, waist to shoulder, each rotation sent thrust after thrust after thrust.

Leon desperately swung his sword to meet each spear tip, resulting in an overwhelming series of metallic clashes. The skin between his fingers tore and bled; grazes from the spear’s pass shaved flesh where the armor didn’t cover. Blood-tears welled in his eyes. Blink once, and he’d fall two steps behind.

He forced his parched eyes open, glaring at the Berger duplicate beyond. From the start, the conclusion had been clear.

This won’t work. I can’t win in a slugfest.

He’d tried cutting the spear shaft with Eclipse, but the duplicate had read his intent and spun the shaft to knock his blade away. Leon was starting to realize why veteran mercenaries were called manhunters.

After a few steadying breaths, Leon made up his mind.

I’ll have to take a gamble.

If he kept fighting like this, he’d only take more damage. And even if he won, the Kaleider could just make another duplicate. He needed a way to take out both the duplicate and Kaleider inside the mirror in one stroke.

El-Cid, reading his thoughts, spoke.

—I’ll give you one piece of advice, my stupid disciple.

What is it?

—The mirror dimension is like a shadow layered over this world but detached from its spatial phase. Even a dragon’s Breath can’t affect it with a simple physical attack. Think of a fish underwater. You can smash the surface of water all you want, but all that does is distort the reflection—you’ll never catch the fish unless you drive the spear into the water.

Drive the spear into the water...?

—Exactly. Cut what can’t be cut, interfere with what can’t be touched. I’ve already taught you how—and you’ve done it before.

Ah!

He recalled his fight with the drake. He had sliced through the fabric of space to block its tail strike.

The dizziness clouding his head cleared, his vision opening as if a veil had been lifted.

He leaped far back, widening the distance. Doing so against a spearman was normally suicidal, but with a clear intent, it was worth the risk.

The Berger duplicate didn’t pursue. It must have judged that Leon posed no threat to the Kaleider, letting slip a perfect chance to strike.

That was the limit of a puppet. There were heights in martial skill it could never reach, and Leon intended to show it just that.

He gathered his strength. Even knowing there was no Stigma of the Guardian to rely on, he poured every last reserve of Aura into his sword.

A single point of light bloomed on the tip of the Holy Sword in preparation for a decisive breakthrough. It needed to be a thrust to pierce not only the duplicate, but the Kaleider behind it, into the very mirror realm itself.

His forehead shone bright as he scraped together the mental power for the technique.

Grand Chariot.

This could not be a slash—unleashing his full power here could bring the mine down. Fortunately, Leon had mastered the thrust.

Pierce—beyond that cursed mirror!

He unleashed his Psychokinesis. His mental energy drained like water from a cracked dam; his limbs spasmed, and his once-clear vision began to blur.

Half... thirty percent... twenty... Eventually, with only ten percent of mental energy left, he elevated that will into the force gathered at the sword tip—into a light strike that could reach beyond the mirror’s far side. Leon stepped half a pace forward and thrust, a golden beam lancing from his blade.

Shimmering Light, Seventh Form, Advanced Technique, Piercing Moon: Alkaid.

“Ghhhk! Ghhhhh!”

Berger’s battle-hardened instincts screamed to evade—but with Kaleider behind it, the duplicate couldn’t move. And even if it could, it wouldn’t have mattered.

The Kaleider had never tried to understand its pawns; it merely used them. What puppeteer ever spoke with its marionettes?

It didn’t understand why its puppet was scared of an attack that couldn’t reach, and so, it only sneered from behind it. It failed to realize that was the height of its own stupidity.

Alkaid’s light shattered the intercepting spear, pierced the duplicate’s heart—and went farther still toward the grinning spider in the mirror—and struck it.

With a squelch, the golden light leaped the unbreachable boundary of the mirror, cutting into Kaleider’s body in its own mirror dimension.