“Father, now is the time I surpass you.”

When his son, wielding a soul equipment blade broken in half, declared him so, the Sword Saint, Mitsurugi Shikibu, felt a shiver down his spine.

It was a sign that the Sword Saint felt a clear threat, and at the same time, it was evidence of his utter joy.

The owner of a power stronger than himself, the bearer of a will to surpass him—Shikibu had always yearned for both. It was rare enough to find someone with just one of these qualities, yet here stood one who possessed both within his sight.

How could he not rejoice at this miracle?

Building a foothold in the air with Kei, Shikibu looked down at his son from above, his throat trembling slightly.

“How long I have awaited this moment,”

Shikibu muttered to himself softly.

From the moment he usurped the title of Sword Saint and the position of head of the Mitsurugi family from his father—no, even before that, he felt a deep-seated frustration lodged in his heart being cleansed away.

As the legitimate heir of the Mitsurugi family, Shikibu had been taught the sword as naturally as breathing from a young age. He never resented this; Shikibu did not choose the sword for his family’s sake, but of his own volition.

Even if he had been born into a different family, Shikibu would have chosen the path of a swordsman. Such was his love for the sword, and so loved was he by the sword.

However, seemingly as compensation, Shikibu never encountered an opponent who could match him as an equal. His exceptional talent prevented the emergence of a worthy rival with whom he could truly sharpen his skills through competition.

Had Shikibu been a person who desired victory through the sword alone, this would not have been an issue. However, he took joy not in victory, but in elevating himself through battle.

Victory was merely a result, and he had no interest in the glory or praise that accompanied it. For Shikibu, an environment devoid of competitors was a source of deep frustration.

This frustration only grew with the mastery of soul equipment.

Light God Baldur. Once the soul equipment was unleashed, it was an invincible Anima that neutralized all enemy attacks.

Shikibu’s father rejoiced that his son harbored an Anima worthy of his talent, but for Shikibu, the existence of Light God Baldur was akin to a curse.

With such invincible power, all defense became unnecessary. Battle turned into a mere task of striking attacks. This was not the kind of combat Shikibu desired.

Yet, sealing away the soul equipment—fighting with restraint—was not Shikibu’s true intention either. What he desired was a battle fought with all his might, and the growth that came with it. A battle fought with restraint could not possibly serve as nourishment for growth.

Initially, upon mastering the soul equipment, Shikibu had high hopes for the senior flag officers, particularly his father. Being the world’s strongest Sword Saint, he believed his father would show him heights that he could not reach even with his full effort.

However, Shikibu’s sword talent and the power of Light God Baldur proved too much even for the Sword Saint of the time.

At just fifteen, Shikibu made all the eminent flag officers and vice-generals kneel before him, eventually defeating even his father, the Sword Saint.

Having quickly given up on his elders, Shikibu delved into the demon realm, battling many demons there. He especially sought out and defeated Mythical Creatures whenever they appeared.

What Shikibu desired was a worthy opponent to foster his growth, and no matter how formidable, Mythical Creatures could not fulfill this role. Still, he hunted Mythical Creatures, preferring to increase his rank level and become stronger rather than waiting idly for a nonexistent opponent.

The more Mythical Creatures he hunted, the higher his rank level rose, and the greater the gap became between him and those around him. Shikibu continued to fight, fully aware of this.

People praised the next head’s strength, bravery, and selfless dedication, but needless to say, these compliments did not resonate with Shikibu.

Eventually reaching the pinnacle of rank and becoming the strongest in both name and reality, Shikibu realized he had hit a dead end.

His desire for someone to elevate him grew stronger day by day, and merely waiting as before was no longer satisfying. He began exploring ways to personally train promising individuals or raise a child from scratch.

This attempt eventually culminated in “raising a child who inherited his blood and talent from scratch.”

Ultimately, this attempt was partly successful and partly a failure. Mitsurugi Sora was indeed Shikibu’s son, but he was also a child Shikibu decided could not be raised by his hand and thus sent away.

owever, the journey to this point was trivial compared to the fact that the long-awaited opponent now stood before him. Feeling the surge of Kei swelling beneath him, Shikibu’s lips curled up.

“Void Armor energize—Mistletoe, the Soul Eater that pierces gods!”

The maximized surge of Kei, darker than the night, rushed towards Shikibu as a black glow.

It resembled a giant arrow, a spear, or perhaps a dragon soaring straight through the sky.

Light God Baldur issued a silent warning to dodge the approaching force, but Shikibu had no intention of heeding it. From the moment he saw the opponent’s Kei technique, he knew it was a strike that could neither be dodged nor defended against.

Just as the secret technique of the Phantom Blade Style, the Dragon Slaying Sword, was devised solely to slay dragons, the sword technique unleashed by Sora was devised solely to slay gods.

It was unavoidable. Indefensible. Shikibu alone understood this, even if no one else did.

Why waste such an opportunity, Shikibu thought. To avoid or defend against this long-awaited chance, likely never to come again, would be the height of folly.

Against such a supreme technique, there was no choice but to meet it head-on with the pinnacle of one’s own swordsmanship!

“Void Armor activate—”

For Light God Baldur, invincibility was a natural state, making defeat and death foreign concepts. However, myths sing of Light God Baldur’s demise and the ensuing apocalypse it heralds.

The strike meant to shatter the tragedy that must never be repeated is the supreme flash of light unleashed by Light God Baldur.

If Sora’s Void Armor is the manifestation of the Anima’s wish shaped by the host’s desire, then Shikibu’s Void Armor is the host shaping the wish of the Anima into form.

Though the master differs, the immense power remains unchanged.

“Repel the twilight, Nega-Ragnarok, Light God Liosbaldur!”

Black light racing from the ground as if piercing the sky, and white light plummeting towards the earth as if drilling through air. When these two ultimate techniques collided, Demon Island trembled mightily.

Perhaps, it was the continent itself that shook.

The divine struggle where father and son exerted their full might against each other seemed endless, with heaven trembling and earth quaking from their clash.

However, the balance of power, initially in stalemate, began to show a shift.

Gradually, yet unmistakably, the equilibrium faltered—in a manner where black engulfed white. As the white light tried to overturn the situation by increasing its intensity, the black light roared back, refusing to be outdone.

And then, the moment arrived.

“AAAAAAAH!!”

“OOOOOOOH!!”

Echoing like the roar of a dragon, Sora’s cry resounded, and the black light swelled enormously, surging upwards in a furious wave.

Shikibu, too, exerted all his might to stem this tide, but the black light devoured even that, rushing towards him.

In the next instant, the Sword Saint was engulfed by the black light, and then—

“—!”

Without anything to stop it, he was blasted high into the sky.