Sword of Yezharael

My mana was fully charged. I could feel it resonating with the Sword of Yezharael. It was as if my aura and the sword's aura were merging, becoming one.

My companions understood my intent without saying a word, without the need for any code. They simply began to move, adapting to my plan.

Ted was the first, his role was to leave the monster vulnerable, with its guard down.

Sylph was responsible for supporting Ted. It was her job to ensure the monster couldn't resist Ted's assault.

Mary took a defensive stance. Her job was to make sure I had the time I needed to finish preparing my final blow.

Our movement was now an improved version of what we had already done before against the Orc King.

Everything was ready. Everyone had played their part flawlessly. Sylph had struck the monster's legs with wind arrows, reducing its mobility.

Ted didn't waste the elf's help and landed a powerful axe blow that forced the monster to open its guard.

Mary had kept the monster's insistent tongue away from me. Everything was ready. I just needed to execute the final strike.

I transferred strength to my legs and started my movement; everything would happen so fast that, in an instant, I would already be on the other side of the arena.

But then something happened. My sword was blocked, a deafening clash of metal against metal.

I was no longer in the arena. I had been transported to another place. An ethereal environment.

I have no way of describing it, because it felt like the environment changed every time I tried to understand where I was.

What had blocked my sword was a knight in a beautiful golden armor.

An angel? His white-feathered wings extended from his back, making him an imposing figure.

His face was hidden by a helm, but I could see his intense blue eyes. His long white hair flowed from inside the helm and spread over his shoulders.

In his hand, the Sword of Yezharael? A copy? No — that was the original. Somehow, I just knew.

But the sword in my hand was also the true Sword of Yezharael. That alone was something my mind couldn't comprehend.

I didn't have much time to think about where I was or why I was there. With our swords still locked, the angel began to move his hand, forming an arc in the air.

Sparks flew from our blades as his sword advanced, pushing me backward.

Before I could do anything, I had been thrown. My back was already crashing violently against the ground.

The strength of that majestic being was so great there was nothing I could do. I just gripped my sword hilt tightly and prepared to endure the pain.

I was thrown a great distance, tumbling across the ground like a rock rolling uncontrollably downhill.

As soon as I had a chance to plant my feet, to try standing again, the angel was already at my side, preparing his next strike.

Was that Yezharael himself, the one who gave name to the sword? I had no time to think. He was readying another powerful blow.

I had no chance to block — not from that stance. My only option was to dodge.

His blade passed inches from my face. I could feel a gust of wind — so hot from the violence of the sword's drag that it almost burned.

The angel gave a slight smile. Was he enjoying this?

I didn't care. I just took advantage of the small opening he gave me to adjust my stance. I had no real hope of defeating that being. But I wouldn't go down without a fight.

As if he was waiting to see what I could do, he just watched my movements for a few seconds.

Someone inexperienced wouldn't even notice it — after all, it all happened in mere seconds — but if he truly wanted to end our fight quickly, I wouldn't have had the slightest chance to prepare for the next blow.

He was far too strong. I had no chance in a contest of raw power.

I took a defensive stance and heightened all my senses. If I wanted to survive even a single blow, I had to use all my agility to react, adjusting my movements to his.

When he noticed I was ready, he took his next step. Nothing complex — he was clearly just testing me.

In an instant, his sword was forming a vertical downward arc. That strike had so much force that it wouldn't just cut me in half like a sheet of paper, it would probably split the very ground beneath my feet if he didn't stop the motion.

If I only dodged, he could easily prepare a second attack. I needed a more aggressive stance.

I prepared to parry the blow. I held the sword above my head, forming a downward diagonal, hoping to redirect his blade, as far away from me as possible.

When the impact finally happened, it was extremely powerful — I couldn't block it with just one hand — so I used my free hand to give it a second point of support to my blade.

I positioned my sword so the edge of his blade would hit the side of mine.

The weapons clashing emitted small golden sparks.

The vibration rippled through my whole body. My legs nearly gave out under the force of the impact.

But I held on. I managed to survive that strike. But it wasn't enough. If I gave him time to prepare another blow that strong, I wouldn't stand a chance.

I had to be aggressive. Not that I had any real hope of defeating him, but as long as I kept him on the defensive, he wouldn't be able to attack me.

I used the energy of his own strike to launch a counterattack, my sword arcing over my head.

My free hand joined the one already gripping the hilt.

A vertical arc, descending straight toward the angel's head, with all the strength my two arms could muster.

He just watched with a smile. He wasn't going to defend himself? Was he so sure of his superiority that he wouldn't even bother?

Before I could react, his sword simply appeared, blocking my sword's path. His movement was so fast, I didn't even see what happened.

He struck my sword with such strength, such violence, that I couldn't hold onto it.

My sword had been flung away. I was on the ground, flat on my butt. I could still feel the vibration from the clash of our blades resonating in my palms.

"Kneel!" the angel said something for the first time.

Somehow, I knew what I had to do. I knelt before him and kept my head lowered, in a gesture of reverence.

"Let my voice spread with the winds in all directions and let all know that I, Archangel Yezharael, captain of the Order of the Golden Roses, recognize Arthur, son of Adam, as the true and only bearer of my legacy."

So it really was Yezharael himself.

As soon as those words were spoken, I could feel something beginning to change in me. It was as if my body had begun a slow process of evolution.

"I hereby name you Sir Arthur, 'The Baby-Faced,'" he announced, then touched his sword to each of my shoulders.

Seriously? He couldn't come up with a better name? Did the author really have to make a joke in a serious moment like this?

"My niece deserves to be happy. I hope I don't regret granting her wish. Remember: as long as you bear my sword, I can bring you back to this place at any moment."

So he was the Queen's uncle? How does that work? Was he King Diablo's brother? Or the brother of Lilith's mother? Seems the relations between heaven and hell weren't quite what I imagined.

As soon as Yezharael finished delivering his final warning — a very subtle threat, don't you think? — I was back.

I was now on the other side of the arena. Golden lightning still surged from my body.

On the arm that held the Sword of Yezharael, a gauntlet, a bracer, and a shoulder guard — all golden and beautifully adorned — had appeared.

Those were clearly pieces of Yezharael's armor. But they didn't remain long. Soon, they turned into golden lightning and vanished into the air.

The Chupa-cu had been cut in half. The whole arena was silent, staring in awe at the scene.

Suddenly, the Queen was leaping into my arms, giving me a passionate kiss.

That snapped the audience out of their stunned silence — soon, everyone erupted in celebration.

The Queen and I just kept on kissing. Nothing else around us mattered anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what did we just witness?" the announcer finally resumed his job. "And with this incredible victory by Lilith's Sect, we conclude the first day of the tournament. But get ready, because starting tomorrow, the real battles begin. Will our heroes be able to defeat the mighty generals? We'll have to wait and see. Any comments before we end today's broadcast, assistant?"

"Announcer, I just want to say that by the way the Queen and the Prince are still kissing, tonight looks promising, gentlemen."

God hear you, assistant.

"Yes, gentlemen... could we be in for another #R18 chapter? You'll have to wait, because today's broadcast ends here."