"Durandal… the holy sword."
"The legendary blade that can destroy anything—rival to Excalibur itself!"
"Impossible! My research said no one could wield Durandal!"
Rias and her team stared, stunned. Valper Galilei's voice cracked with disbelief. Even Kokabiel, floating above, frowned—Xenovia, wielding Durandal, was a surprise to everyone.
"I'm not like Irina and the other artificial sword users. I'm one of the rare few—born to wield holy swords."
"Durandal is a tyrant. It cuts through everything, sometimes ignoring even my commands. That's why I had to seal it away in another dimension. It's dangerous—unpredictable."
Xenovia's lips curled into a fierce smile as she hefted the sword, excitement sparking in her eyes. "Freed, you're in luck. Now we can see which is stronger—Excalibur or Durandal! Don't disappoint me. Show me everything Excalibur can do!"
At heart, Xenovia was a battle junkie—through and through.
"A true holy sword wielder…" Valper whispered, dazed.
He'd once dreamed of holy sword power, obsessed over Excalibur's legend. But when he realized he couldn't wield a true holy sword, he'd sunk into despair—turning instead to the science of artificial wielders.
Facing Xenovia—a natural, a chosen one—Valper felt awe… but more than that, envy and rage. He'd wanted this more than anything, but the gods had denied him. Unfair. So unfair.
"Freed! Kill her! Kill her now!"
Gone was the kindly mask; Valper shrieked, voice raw. The blessed—destroy them. He had to.
"On it!"
Freed's Excalibur split and twisted, snaking toward Xenovia in a barrage of attacks.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sparks flew as Xenovia parried with ease. With Durandal in hand, she was untouchable.
"So unfair! She gets a power-up now?!"
"Why do stories always pull this crap?!"
Freed blurred, launching at Xenovia with breakneck speed. She met him head-on.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Holy sword clashed against holy sword—this time, Xenovia had the clear advantage. Excalibur was famous for its versatility and strange powers, but in raw destructive force, Durandal reigned supreme.
"In the end, Excalibur's just a broken relic. It can't stand against Durandal."
"Let's finish this—Excalibur, be severed!"
Xenovia raised Durandal and brought it down in a shining arc. For the first time, Freed's bravado cracked—panic flickered in his eyes. The sword's will screamed at him: this blow was unstoppable.
But—
BOOM!
A shockwave exploded overhead. Freed was sent flying, tumbling like a ragdoll. Xenovia landed, frowning—her attack had been blocked at the last second. Tenra stood between them, sword fading from his hand.
"Tenra Kamiyo, why did you stop me?"
Tenra shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. "Sorry to ruin your fun, Xenovia. But Excalibur isn't ready to be destroyed. Not yet."
He picked up the battered sword from the ground.
"Irina, Excalibur's yours now."
He tossed it to Irina, who caught it, eyes wide with delight.
Xenovia nodded, sheathing Durandal without complaint.
Freed, sprawled on the ground, blinked—then looked at the mangled remains of his body scattered around him.
"Ah. I'm dead."
With a final flop, Freed expired, tongue lolling.
"Tenra!"
"Lord Tenra!"
Rias and her team hurried over. Seeing Tenra return, relief washed over them. The final battle—Kokabiel—was still ahead, but with Tenra here, they felt hope.
Tenra nodded to them, then turned to Valper.
"Ah…"
Valper met Tenra's icy stare and collapsed, shaking. He'd seen it clearly—Freed, wielding Excalibur, had been swatted aside by Tenra in a single stroke. No resistance. No chance.
Just how strong was this devil child?
"Relax, Valper. I once promised someone I'd avenge them on you. But there's someone better suited to deliver your punishment."
"Tosca."
Tenra's gaze flicked to the side. "Your turn."
"Yes, Lord Tenra."
Yubelluna and the others kept the barrier steady as Tosca descended, stepping onto the field with measured grace.
"Valper, do you remember me?"
She looked innocent, almost sweet, as she approached. But the killing intent radiating from her was ice-cold—everyone felt it.
"You—you're Tosca!"
Her appearance had changed, but that white hair was unforgettable. Valper's voice shook.
Tosca smiled, beautiful and chilling. "I'm glad you remember, Valper. Truly."
Her tone shifted, soft and dangerous. "Do you remember what you did to us?"
Valper's eyes flashed with fear and malice. He knew exactly who Tosca meant—and what he'd done. Raising a trembling hand, he summoned a magic circle.
"Die! Die!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Bolts of light shot toward Tosca—but they fizzled out against her barrier, powerless.
Valper cursed, scrambling to flee.
"Still so cold and ruthless, Valper. Attacking without warning…"
She smiled, twisted and hungry. "But you know what? I love it."
She flickered—appearing before Valper in a heartbeat. Her hand flashed out, and a sphere of light enveloped him, lifting him off the ground.
"Help me! Lord Kokabiel! Please!"
Valper hammered at the barrier, screaming for Kokabiel's help. But Kokabiel just lounged on his throne, watching the show. Whether Freed died or Valper was hunted, he didn't care.
"Feeling hopeless, Valper? That's exactly how we felt."
"You lied to us, used us, made me and my friends your experiments. When you were done, you tried to erase your crimes—erase us."
"Did you know? Every single day, I dreamed of revenge."
"Thank my god—I finally get this day!"
Tosca's face twisted with hate. Valper, trapped and desperate, screamed and begged. No one pitied him.
"Die…"
Her voice rang out. Black butterflies materialized inside the barrier—Hell Butterflies, Tosca's familiars.
Valper recognized them instantly. His face collapsed into terror and despair.
"NOOOOOOOO—!"
His scream echoed, and the butterflies swarmed.
—
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