Chapter 116: The Hero's Arrival

“This is...” Loki instinctively widened his eyes upon witnessing the scene, while Ais unconsciously took a step forward, her gaze wavering uncontrollably. Looking at Ester slowly rising, she forced out from deep within her throat the name that had haunted her dreams.

“Fairy Spirit…”

Pure, sacred, powerful— as if all the beauty in the world were embodied in the holy sword that the girl had become.

The girl known as the Sword Maiden began to tremble in an uncommon way the moment she saw Ester.

With a dazed and confused look, she stared at the holy sword, then gradually shifted her gaze to Roland, who held the blade.

If anyone else had seen Ais lose her composure like this, it would have caused an uproar in Oralie. Yet now, the Sword Maiden’s radiance had been completely eclipsed by Roland.

“It’s the Fairy Spirit! The legend…”

“A hero! A living hero!”

Any adventurer worth their salt would have heard the tales of heroes, and it was precisely for this reason that Roland’s appearance sent shockwaves through the crowd.

The atmosphere surged.

The spectators, already curious and astonished by how events were unfolding, seemed instantly ignited. The cacophony of voices rose like tidal waves. Many adventurers, reluctant but resolute, hurried off to deliver the news to their clan’s chief deity.

The only ones who remained composed were Roland, who smiled serenely, and Loki, who had his eyes wide open.

“Ais!”

Roland called out sternly to awaken Ais, who had stopped in her tracks, dazed.

“Draw your sword. This child is not joking. You cannot hold anything back in this fight.”

As if realizing something, a strong emotion surged in Ais’s crystal-clear eyes. With utmost seriousness, she drew the blade from her waist, then in the next moment, she became a blur, charging towards Roland with a speed difficult to track with the naked eye.

“Such a fierce will to win, commendable,” Roland said effortlessly, casually raising his hand to block Ais’s attack, allowing immense magic to radiate through Ester.

Unlike before, as one of the elite at level five, Ais’s skill was exactly what Roland desired. In fact, this level of combat made him even more at ease.

“But the outcome won’t change. I will win, no matter what!”

Roland lowered his body slightly, flexed his toes, and shot forward like an arrow, actively engaging Ais.

Noticing Roland’s speed was on par with her own, Ais quickly sidestepped, searching for a new opportunity.

“Trying a different path because you can’t match strength?” Roland’s pupils tracked Ais’s fleeting form. Her speed, swift enough to leave only an afterimage, appeared to his eyes as a slow, clear trajectory.

In terms of combat power, high-ranking adventurers in this world had physical abilities comparable to summoned beings and abundant experience dealing with monsters. Yet, constrained by the current environment, they still lacked much in human-to-human combat compared to heroes of ancient times.

So, let me give this world a little taste of true heroism.

Roland curled the corner of his lips and swung Ester, enveloped in magic, sending forth a dazzling sword light.

A brilliant beam shot out, cutting off all avenues of escape for Ais.

“Whoosh—!”

Inside the enclosed chamber, a fierce wind erupted.

“Awaken—!”

Facing the silver streak of sword light, Ais did not hesitate to use her magic. Instantly, the wind’s power scattered the surrounding dust and infused new strength into her limbs.

She stepped on air in a posture that defied physics, rushing towards the sword light at unprecedented speed, brushing past it at a perilous angle nearly parallel to the blade, narrowly evading the strike.

The gust blew past, sending her flowing hair billowing like a curtain.

“Crash—!”

Yet the radiant sword light did not dissipate after her dodge. The empty high wall behind her was severed in half. The unsupported upper section collapsed heavily, stirring a deep rumble and a cloud of dust.

This sight made the surrounding adventurers rapidly retreat in shock and fear, their expressions of astonishment so uniform it seemed rehearsed.

A single casual strike capable of such earth-shattering destruction ranked among the top in Oralie. Beyond mages wielding magic, few could achieve this level of power with melee alone.

“Not bad, not bad. Want more, Ester?”

Even Roland was surprised by the strike’s power. Compared to the magic he poured in, the conversion efficiency was astonishing—almost rivaling his own innate fiery energy. Though one was more energy-based and the other more about sharpness.

Calling Ester an A-rank treasured weapon was an insult; even in her original world, she was a divine armament capable of slaying the spirit king who was the source of the world.

As if to prove this, Ester trembled slightly, her sacred light gradually enveloping the entire blade, greedily drawing more magic from Roland to manifest her might.

Magic transformed into a strange divine force permeated Roland’s body, enhancing his physical abilities. With a reckless smile, he shifted his footing and surged forward with lightning speed, vanishing in a flash on the ground.

The next moment, the sword light swept past Ais again. This time, however, she did not dodge or use her previous tactics but braced the blade with her other hand and forcibly blocked Roland’s strike.

Despite the magic’s support, her feet sank into the ground, leaving a web-like crater.

When not relying solely on brute force, Ester’s power focused through the blade was even stronger.

If not for her accustomed fighting style and the sword’s indestructible property, she would likely have been cleaved in two along with her weapon.

But more troubling to Ais than this near-death combat was Roland’s stamina.

With the offensive advantage, Roland showed no sign of letting up or fatigue. Strike after strike came relentlessly.

Each clash sent powerful reverberations through Ais, and even the famed indestructible blade began to develop fine cracks after repeated blocks.

No sword techniques, no tactics—Roland attacked purely with raw strength. Within seconds, countless blows numbed Ais’s arms and dulled her senses.

If this continued, her hands would give out first.

Ais’s gaze sharpened as she pivoted, intending to disrupt Roland’s rhythm, but the next strike came so fast and precise it seemed to anticipate her move, forcing her to abandon retreat.

No choice…

“Sweep through—!”

She activated magic again, altering its output with a different incantation, turning the raging wind into sharp blades that exploded outward, replacing her weapon as a shield against the sword light.

Unexpectedly, Ais did not use this chance to escape and regroup but embraced the storm, letting it wrap around her like a gossamer veil.

She became a swift shadow, flickering in and out of sight as she suddenly lunged before Roland.

Without mercy, she thrust the cracked sword tip, electrified, from a blind spot, aiming sharply at Roland’s throat.

This seemingly fatal attack was executed with exquisite skill and graceful agility, transitioning from defense to deflection to counterattack in an instant.

Ais’s figure resembled a gale, carrying surging wild winds that seized the nearly nonexistent opening amid the relentless flood of strikes.

“So beautiful…”

Roland couldn’t help but marvel at the scene.

“Less like combat, more like a dance.”

Then, adopting a counterattack stance, he raised his silver holy sword and returned the strike in kind.

Seeing Roland’s lightning-fast thrust, even Ais’s calm and steadfast expression faltered.

That posture, that speed—she knew it well. It was unmistakably the signature move she herself was using.

Just one glance, and he mastered her technique?

As if to confirm Ais’s thoughts, at the critical moment, the two blades suddenly clashed with a crisp ringing, sparks flying dazzlingly.

“—Clang!”

The sword tips met with pinpoint accuracy. Such identical and precise strikes were beyond mere coincidence.

This transcended the ordinary, for Ais’s swordsmanship was no common art but a lingering shadow left by the figure known as her father in her past memories.

“Why… do you know this move?”

The usually taciturn Ais looked at Roland, who slowly lowered his sword, her eyes filled with disbelief and yearning as she asked.

“Because, I too possess the talent of a mere hero.”

Roland lifted his gaze to meet hers and spoke softly.

Without giving her time to react, magic erupted from Ester, leaving shimmering arcs in the air that converged into a vortex and exploded.

The physical shockwave conducted through Ester’s tip shattered the indestructible sword—crafted by the forge god of Celtic myth—into tiny fragments with devastating force, scattering debris that pierced through walls and floor, yet did not cease.

Ais sat motionless on the ground, the gleaming blade pressing coldly against her pale, delicate neck. Roland stood firm, sword in one hand, smiling as he declared the battle’s outcome.

“Miss Ais, you have lost.”

Though many had anticipated this moment, when it truly arrived, the entire hall fell into stunned silence.

In less than ten seconds, the Sword Maiden—once championed by the gods and regarded as the next strongest—was effortlessly defeated by a youth yet to receive any blessing, her weapon shattered.

After a brief stillness, murmurs and unrest began to stir.

“Does that guy really have no blessing?”

“It’s terrifying. Not just level five— even level six would fall to him so easily.”

“That’s the Sword Maiden… Ais Wallenstein.”

“If he does get blessed, the title of Oralie’s strongest will soon no longer belong to the Freya clan.”

From afar, the crowd outside the guild watched with curious and excited expressions. Even the dullest could realize they had witnessed history today.

This was no mere miracle confined to Oralie but an epic for the entire world.

After a millennium, before the mythic scrolls of the clans could unfold, a young man had suddenly appeared, bearing his own Fairy Spirit, halting the march of time with flamboyant defiance, and mercilessly stamping it beneath his feet.

No blessing, no dungeon access, insurmountable level gaps among adventurers—these were accepted truths, yet here stood an exception.

Regardless of anyone’s feelings towards Roland—whether jealousy or admiration—a simple fact was now laid bare before the world.

The hero had arrived.

(End of chapter)