Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 170

When the ghastly voice faded, Leon was already staring into the abyss. The afterglow of Icarus Wing flickered a few times, then went out like a spent candle, and a darkness fell so complete he could not see an inch ahead.

No—sight wasn’t the only thing gone. He heard nothing. Felt nothing.

It was as if all five senses had been numbed. The perception that had covered over a hundred meters went dead. Even his instinctive sixth sense, smeared out after a few paces. Only the Aura and blood circulating in his body—and the heat rapidly cooling—proved he was still alive.

What is this place?

He tried to speak aloud, but even his own voice didn’t reach him, so Leon spoke to El-Cid with his mind instead.

—This is Chernobog’s esophagus. Looks like he got this space from an exogod by contract. Even at full strength, he couldn’t wield this authority on his own.

Leon, who knew almost nothing about the elder gods, reflexively asked, Chernobog?

—A god of evil. Don’t dwell on it too much. Ordinarily, his afterlife would have connected to Duat. The exogod distorted the path and routed it through an evil god’s body as a disguise.

In the land once ruled by the pharaohs, even the afterlife was treated as part of life itself. Mummification wasn’t meant to be a blasphemy that created the undead, but a way to keep the body from decaying while they awaited the day the dead would return.

Duat was the name of that afterlife, a realm that worshiped not the sun god but Osiris, god of death.

Even as a transcendent, someone corrupted like Nephren-Ka wouldn’t dare defy that divine throne in Duat. To avoid Osiris, he bargained with an exogod and made himself a parasite in the body of an evil deity.

So... he sold out his own country and, afraid of judgment even after death, clung to another god’s body—an evil god’s body?

—Precisely. Well put.

What kind of trash does that!?

Leon could only despise Nephren-Ka’s character. A king should be an example to his people, yet even after death, he tried to hoard glory by selling out his subjects and fleeing the god of the dead? As a Hero, Leon had learned responsibility before all else. He could never forgive such a thing.

—In any case, he’s properly rattled. This place is supposed to be his sanctuary: a prison that means unavoidable death for the living, but a cozy abyss for the dead. There’s no surer way to kill the living.

El-Cid chuckled and continued, —But he made a mistake. A big one.

If Leon had no way out of this space, or if Nephren-Ka’s reach extended to the stomach rather than just the throat, this authority would have killed him without fail.

However, it fell a step short. He’d cast his kingly responsibility away yet couldn’t let go of that loss. So, hatred and vengeance gnawed at his reason. The instant he threw Leon into the abyss, Nephren-Ka’s defeat was sealed.

With a hum, light from the Holy Sword pushed the darkness back. Leon’s Aura couldn’t oppose Chernobog’s night, but if he had the Holy Sword forged by the Goddess herself, things would be different.

A few meters around him brightened, and his senses returned. His body, gone chill without him noticing, warmed, and Leon focused every ounce of will into the hand gripping the sword. Aura techniques wouldn’t do. Even in life, Rodrick never tried to out-muscle an evil god like Chernobog.

Only his mind, his will could suffice. Even if it was just for a single instant, he had to punch a tiny hole through this abyss.

I can do this.

He had to cut space itself. It was something reason said was impossible, yet he had done it once before, though not a full cut, just a momentary cross-section.

Leon thought back to when he was in the Titan Mountains, fighting the drake he’d one-eyed. To block an attack of overwhelming mass, he had sliced empty space with a single blade in order to erect a wall.

“Mind-body manifestation.”

Recalling that moment and focusing his mind, he saw the air around him waver like a heat-haze, but there was no heat in the abyss; mirage couldn’t form here. In other words, it was proof his mind was intruding upon the outer world.

Cut what should not be cut. That was the pinnacle a swordsman should seek.

Leon’s Icarus Wing flared behind him and flowed naturally into the Holy Sword, deepening its faint glow into a brighter sheen. Then, Leon simply knew.

Now!

All four Stigmata engraved on his body blazed as one. With both his body and mind beyond their limits, he brought the sword down. In an abyss with no up or down, he cleaved heaven and earth.

“Let there be light.”

The first Aura Blade Leon ever materialized tore the abyss like tough leather, opening a rift that connected back to the world where he’d been born and raised.

—Go!

Spurred by El-Cid’s shout, Leon plunged through, the Holy Sword still radiant.

***

Seconds? Minutes? Perhaps days.

Time smeared as he crossed the boundary between dimensions. Leon set foot beyond, and clarity returned with the gritty crumble of sand beneath his boot.

“W-what...?”

A voice choked with shock. By sheer chance, Leon had returned a few short meters in front of Nephren-Ka.

In that instant, Leon thought as fast as he could.

What’s the situation? Our allies? How far has his recovery progressed?

El-Cid’s roar shattered his wandering thoughts.

—Now’s not the time, idiot! It’s only been seconds! Charge—now!

Immediately, Icarus Wing roared to life. There was no room to dodge or retreat.

Leon slammed into Nephren-Ka with the Holy Sword leading, pouring in everything with no thought beyond carrying him off as far as it would take.

Crossing Nekaka and Heka to block the blade, Nephren-Ka glared with disbelieving eyes and shouted, “How did you return from there! A worm like you must not be able to gaze into my abyss and remain unharmed!”

To that tantrum, Leon ground his teeth and snarled back, “Shut up!”

“W-what!?”

“You’ve been spewing, ‘vermin, vermin,’ when, what, you sold your own people and then clung to an evil god’s guts? You parasite! Who are you calling a vermin?!”

Struck dead-center, Nephren-Ka lost his retort for a heartbeat. Leon halted, whipped the Holy Sword up, and the crossed staff and scepter sprang away.

He was still a pharaoh, after all—one who ruled above all, a priest who wielded authority. Close combat like a warrior’s was not his forte.

Even so, I can’t go against him head-on.

With eyes cold as ice, Leon tracked his movements and slipped a step ahead of the descending staff. The ground where it fell shattered like an earthquake.

Shockwaves carved the earth without even touching it from the overwhelming force. Even without technique, he could crush Leon with pure output.

“You... you! You, you, you, you wretched cur!!” Nephren-Ka spewed words of panic.

Perhaps the mention of his blackest deeds scraped his nerves raw. Nephren-Ka swung his scepter and staff like a madman.

It was a mercy Leon had been blasted far on the first exchange. Every time Nephren-Ka lashed out, dunes collapsed, whirlwinds rose, and the land itself was torn to ruin. It wasn’t even technique—just wild flailing, like children brawling—yet that alone wrought devastation.

“What do you know, wretch, to dare speak of me!”

Despite his status as demi-god, if it wasn’t martial skill, Leon had an opening he could break through. Having perfectly parried dozens of blows, Leon’s eyes sharpened.

It’s coming.

The staff and scepter crashing down together—his strongest, yet sloppiest pattern. He had studied it many times in a short span of time. It wasn’t a trap.

Certain now, Leon thrust his sword forward in just a quarter of a second. No—half of that. A moment so small it had to be pierced with the precision of threading a needle.

“Heh.”

A dry laugh slipped from him. Threading a needle? Difficult, sure, but if that was all—

“That’s nothing.”

“Diiiiie!”

Staff and scepter descended like an avalanche. The movement left a tiny gap by the angle of his arms, which Leon didn’t fail to spot.

Grand Chariot.

Kicking off the sand, Leon accelerated, slipping inside before the weapons could fall. With the thrust power of Icarus Wing added in, the speed of this strike was the fastest of anything he could unleash.

“Grand Chariot, Seventh Form, Variant Technique, Charge Blade: Alkaid.”

From ankle to knee, hip to shoulder, elbow to wrist, Leon closed the gap in a half-step and drove the Holy Sword straight into Nephren-Ka’s chest.

The Pharaoh reacted but could not stop it. Had he possessed even a little real martial training, he might have shifted to defense. However, he had never once been pressed like this before. Defending with his twin weapons had never even occurred to him.

The sound of his skin being punctured was short and violent. The Holy Sword cut through the bandages wrapped around him, carved through rotted flesh and innards, and drove straight into his heart.

There was no heartbeat. And yet, the blackened lump of flesh pulsed with a foul crimson glow, writhing with malice until the light of El-Cid seared it, sizzling as it burned with a stench so foul it turned the stomach.

However, despite all the damage, Nephren-Ka remained calm.

“Is that all? Have you had your fun, vermin?”

Even pierced through the heart, it only meant one less source of power. For a transcendent, the body was little more than a vessel. With so many lives gathered here, he could devour them all and recover easily.

Leon answered, “No.”

He had expected this from the start. Destroying the vessel meant nothing. It could never touch Nephren-Ka’s true self. Even so, Leon had forced his way close to plunge the Holy Sword directly in, all for a reason.

His Aura Blade was still immature. He could produce power inside his body but barely emit it outward. It was, unfortunately, incomplete. So, he had to create this very situation. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

At his call, the sun pulsing like a second heart moved through his veins. It was searing heat that could melt steel in an instant, yet it was merciful to its master.

From heart to shoulder, shoulder to arm, arm to hand. Even outside his body, the glow flickered, proof of the immense power raging within him. Without the Holy Sword as a medium, it would have been impossible.

From body to sword, from sword to foe.

“I’ve still got one more for you.”

The sun overflowing from Leon flooded into Nephren-Ka’s body through the Holy Sword, its surface blazing brilliantly.

It was incomplete―crude―but nothing could be deadlier to him.

The cursed Pharaoh, rejected by the sun, could only meet his end here.

“Leon Style Aura Blade, Sun Sword: Solaris.”

The sun that rose within him recognized its enemy. Normally, once cut off from Leon, it would collapse at once. But Nephren-Ka’s own curse provided an anchor instead.

And then, centered on him, a blazing sphere of flame appeared in the desert night.

“――――――!”

There was no scream. Sound itself was devoured as the air ignited, drawing the wind in and evaporating it into a vacuum. Mummies fell to their knees at the light from that sun that burned the undead. Beetles flipped helplessly onto their backs.

Even Anubis, still trapped in the storm, stared at the fireball as if dazzled by the true sun. He could not help it.

“The sun...?” Al Razzaz whispered, forgetting to breathe.

And so it was. In the battlefield gone suddenly still, all looked upon the sun that had risen at midnight—some in awe, some in prayer. None pitied the sinner writhing within.

After millennia, the curse descended at last. The man who betrayed the sun and his kingdom, who reached for the abyss.

The Black Pharaoh, Nephren-Ka, at last, faced judgment.