The ring of clashing steel echoed through the night, the resulting sparks dissolving into the flickering orange light of the signal fires.
To the black-clad men watching from the shadows, it seemed certain that Ryoma had been dealt a fatal blow. Split to the left and right, the brothers had launched a coordinated pincer attack that the boy appeared unable to even track, let alone parry.
Yet Ryoma lived.
Far from being dead, he was holding his own against the two assassins, surviving the center of a tempestuous exchange of blows.
The Mighty Sword Brothers wielded two-handed greatswords nearly as tall as an adult. Backed by their immense weight and the brothers' seasoned expertise, each strike possessed enough destructive power to justify their title. Naturally, such massive blades required larger, more deliberate movements compared to lighter swords.
However, the brothers were currently shrouding their bodies in Qi, augmenting both their physical capabilities and their equipment. This gave them a level of mobility that defied their outward appearance. By subtly staggering the timing of their strikes, they effectively covered each other's openings. These were not the sluggish attacks of mere brutes.
Even so, not a single strike reached Ryoma.
He moved with such minimal, relaxed effort that the observers had initially mistaken his stillness for a lack of reaction. He slipped his body just outside the trajectory of the greatswords, accurately parrying only the blows he could not avoid. He weathered every strike of the onslaught, even finding the composure to weave through the gaps in their offense to launch his own counterattacks.
(He is beyond any reasonable scale.)
The attackers had arrived with shared intelligence on Ryoma’s combat capabilities and predictions based on that data. They had, of course, considered the possibility that he was trained in martial arts.
However, they believed his primary strength lay in the magic he used for the city’s snow removal and demolition projects, or perhaps in his tamed monsters. The magic was an undeniable fact, as the boy used it so casually in his daily life that it left no room for doubt. As for his monsters, his command over a massive swarm of slimes was public knowledge; even if each one was weak, their sheer numbers were considered a significant threat.
By contrast, there was very little information on his martial prowess. Beyond him overwhelming a group of young delinquent adventurers and a few scattered rumors, the guild’s assessment of his physical combat skills was relatively low compared to the other two threats.
Furthermore, judging by Ryoma's age and applying a modicum of common sense, it was difficult to imagine that his swordsmanship could actually surpass his magic. How much time would a child have to pour into training to achieve such magical heights? When confronted with a boy who wielded magic with the ease of a master, who would honestly conclude that his physical sword skills were even better? Who could look at a ten-year-old and see a man who had been training for nearly forty years?
If anything, the black-clad assassins had been exceptionally thorough. They had sealed his magic with specialized tools and deployed elite fighters like the Mighty Sword Brothers alongside a full support squad. Had their opponent been an ordinary child, the job would have been finished without a hitch.
"Nngh!"
"Kh!"
After an exchange lasting less than thirty seconds, it was the brothers—who should have been the ones on the offensive—who let out frustrated groans. The older brother, clutching his cheek guard with his left hand, was the first to disengage. The younger brother followed suit, putting several paces between themselves and Ryoma.
"Anija."
"It only grazed the fixture."
The older brother used brute force to rip away the cheek guard, which was hanging askew where the right-side fitting had snapped. As the remaining buckle broke with a sharp crack, the man’s face was revealed, showing patches of scales along his cheeks.
"Those scales... so you really are Dragonewts."
"Unlike your acquaintance, however, we were not born in some cozy village. More importantly, that blade... are you truly using a slime as a katana?"
"You certainly did your homework on Asagi-san and the slime katana..."
The weapon Ryoma held was indeed a slime katana—specifically, one crafted from a Steel Slime, an evolution of the Iron Slime. While its fundamental abilities hadn't changed, it was far more resistant to bending or snapping, making it an ideal material for a cutting tool.
"We gather information on any powerful individuals likely to interfere. As for the katana, it was merely a rumor that you were a Slime Freak who insisted on using them for everything."
"But to withstand our blades repeatedly without a single chip... we must revise our evaluation."
"!"
The air around the brothers' raised blades began to shimmer. It was a phenomenon that occurred when the density and volume of Qi used for strengthening exceeded a certain threshold. That haze-like wavering was the unmistakable precursor to a secret technique.
"Witness the secret arts of the Mighty Sword Style!"
"Flying Dragon Drop!"
As the younger brother swung his sword down, his spirit-filled roar gave birth to a literal blade of force. The shockwave tore through the earth in a straight line, flying forward with a thunderous boom.
Ryoma dodged it with a quick lateral leap, but—
"Flying Dragon Drop!"
The older brother’s strike followed instantly, aiming ruthlessly for the opening created by Ryoma’s evasion.
However—
"!!"
The brothers froze. They saw Ryoma raising his own katana, which was now emitting the same shimmering haze. In the next breath, he unleashed an energy blade that looked like a mirror image of their own, perfectly canceling out the lethal strike closing in on him.
But the brothers were already shifting into their next move. Taking up stances with their flickering swords, they swung in unison this time.
"Secret Technique: Flying Dragon Cross!"
The twin blades of force, unleashed in symmetrical arcs, converged on Ryoma. Once again, Ryoma raised his katana into an overhead stance and swung down. An even larger blade of energy erupted from his weapon, accurately severing the intersection point of the crossing strikes and neutralizing them both.
"...I must concede. It is no shock that you can use martial techniques, but..."
"Did you mimic it? Our secret art?"
"It might be strange to say this to an enemy... but it was a beautiful technique. That made it very easy to understand. It was an excellent demonstration."
When Ryoma offered his affirmation and a genuine compliment, the older brother’s grim expression darkened further. Beneath his mask, the younger brother likely looked the same.
"To think you could hide such skill until now."
"I wasn't trying to hide it. I’m not that clever. It’s more accurate to say I was shrinking back."
"Shrinking back?"
"When I lived in the forest, for better or worse, I was alone. No one was watching me. I was free, and I only had to focus on surviving, so I didn't give it much thought. But in the city—in human society—there are social norms.
They range from written laws to unspoken agreements, but solving problems through violence is generally frowned upon. It’s a quick way to be excluded from society. So, while I’m good at it, I don't exactly like it. Besides, magic and slimes are just more efficient for the kind of work I do in town."
"...I suppose I understand your point. But how trivial. You are a man of power. Why let yourself be jerked around by the whims of the weak?"
"In this world, strength is the only thing that matters. Those who do nothing but complain and make noise can be cut down whenever you please. Surely you understand that much?"
Ryoma nodded slowly at the brothers' harsh words.
"Even if it isn't violence, there is political power, wealth, eloquence, and negotiation skills. They take different forms, but you can't get what you want without power. If you’re weak, you lose and things are taken from you. It’s a sad reality, but it’s true. I can't deny that, somewhere in my heart, the thought that I could kill my enemies if I truly wanted to was a kind of mental support for me.
If I hadn't met the Jamil family in Gana Forest... If I hadn't been accepted by the people in this city... I wouldn't be standing here defending it. I might very well have ended up on your side.
'There but for the grace of God go I.' I was truly, truly lucky."
As Ryoma whispered these words as if to himself, the intimidating pressure radiating from his body intensified. In response, the brothers took a synchronized step forward.
"I see. So the lack of witnesses here is convenient for you as well."
"You are strong—no, you are growing stronger. We will give everything we have to strike you down here."
The shimmering Qi spread from their blades to their entire bodies. They weren't merely gambling their lives; they were discarding them for the sake of the kill. This was a full-body reinforcement that ignored the heavy toll on their physical forms. It was their genuine peak, born from their newfound respect for Ryoma as an opponent.
"Prepare yourself!"
Reflecting the orange glow of the signal fires on their armor, the brothers turned into two flashes of light. They discarded all subtle tricks, charging forward for a final, decisive clash.
Faced with the Mighty Swords that could cleave through steel and bone alike, Ryoma poured every ounce of his Qi into his katana. To counter their reinforced armor, he didn't shroud his own body in Qi; instead, he relied on pure, refined swordsmanship and minimal evasion.
Both sides were aiming for a certain-kill strike. The battle escalated with every ring of steel. Their clashing spirits and shimmering auras merged into a single swirling pillar of power reaching toward the sky.
The stalemate was brief. The end came with startling suddenness.
"Guh!?"
Ryoma caught a downward-swinging blade at the guard of his katana, sliding past the weapon and driving his pommel into his opponent’s chest. The impact buckled the armor, causing the younger brother to gasp in pain, but it wasn't a fatal blow.
However, that momentary pause was all that was needed. When the brothers' perfect coordination crumbled, it left a gaping opening.
As the older brother’s horizontal sweep aimed at his neck from behind, Ryoma pivoted, relaxing his grip. Guided by gravity and the flow of the brother's own momentum, Ryoma's blade moved with fluid softness, overriding the trajectory of the greatsword. The moment the massive blade passed his chest, Ryoma's katana snapped upward, slicing through both of the older brother’s underarms in a single, clean motion.
Blood sprayed into the air as the greatsword slipped from the older brother’s nerveless fingers. A split second later, the younger brother lunged for Ryoma’s neck, but the result was the same. A spray of crimson leaked from the seams of his armor, and the arms that had been swinging the Mighty Sword fell limp.
"...Heh, haha... it seems we've lost."
"So it... appears... My apologies, Anija."
"Don't worry about it, brother."
The excessive blood loss from their severed arteries, combined with the sheer exhaustion of the duel, was more than enough to end them. Yet, despite their knees buckling, they kept their eyes fixed firmly on Ryoma.
"...A masterful strike. You took our vitals with perfect precision."
"...I’d like to keep fighting, but my arms won't move an inch. It's almost... refreshing."
The shimmering aura around them flickered and died. Their lives were like candles in a gale. With the last of their strength, the brothers asked one final question.
"What about... the others?"
"The moment the duel was decided, they ran as fast as they could. I thought they might try to ambush me, but..."
Just then, a series of agonized screams echoed from the direction the black-clad squad had fled. Keeping his guard up against the brothers, Ryoma glanced sideways. One by one, the fleeing men were being snagged by thorny weeds erupting from beneath the snow and dragged down into the earth.
"They've fallen into my monsters' traps."
"I see... so that's why... we didn't see them."
"You didn't keep them for defense... but to ensure... we couldn't escape?"
With trembling, fading voices, the brothers spoke their final words.
"Impressive."
With that, they both collapsed forward.
The sound of their heavy armor clanking against the frozen ground echoed through the mountains before fading into silence. Then, a few light flakes of snow began to drift down from the sky.
Ryoma flicked the blood from his katana with a sharp snap of his wrist. Quiet returned to the night of the abandoned mine.