"Just who the hell are you? A devil? A fallen angel? And what exactly do you want with the Holy Swords?!
We failed to recover them—and instead lost both the Sword of Destruction and the Sword of Imitation… At this point, I'd be better off dying right here!"
Even now, Xenovia showed no sign of backing down. Her eyes burned with resolve as she stared straight at Ren. Then, without hesitation, she thrust her hand into the air before her.
A magic circle flared to life.
From within it, a massive double-edged greatsword slowly emerged—its body a deep, radiant blue, its blade gleaming gold.
The Holy Sword Excalibur—renowned across the world.
The Sword of Destruction and the Sword of Imitation Ren now held were merely two of its seven fragmented pieces.
In truth, the Sword of Destruction had never been Xenovia's original weapon.
Unlike Irina, Xenovia was a natural-born Holy Sword wielder.
And besides the Sword of Destruction, she possessed another blade—
A complete Holy Sword whose fame rivaled even Excalibur itself.
Durandal.
Known as one of the three great Holy Swords of medieval Europe, it was said to have been wielded by the legendary paladin Roland.
Though it lacked the symbolic weight and versatility of Excalibur, Durandal bore another title—
The Sword of Angels.
Those who wielded it were said to be blessed by God and protected by angels. Its name carried the meaning of permanence—an unchanging, eternal blade.
An indestructible weapon.
Not only could it never be broken, but its destructive power was pushed to the absolute limit.
So immense was its force that it couldn't even be fitted with a sheath—normally, it had to be stored in a separate dimension.
Even as one of the "Three Great Holy Swords," Xenovia still lacked the power to fully wield it.
Which only proved just how terrifying the blade truly was.
Its blue-and-gold form shimmered brilliantly, and the sheer spectacle of it emerging from another dimension made its entrance overwhelmingly imposing—like a scene straight out of legend.
As its wielder, Xenovia's magical power surged explosively, rising severalfold under the sword's blessing.
Watching her draw Durandal from the void, Ren's eyes lit up with interest.
Without a word, he stabbed the Sword of Imitation and the Sword of Destruction into the ground before him.
Then, slowly—
He placed his right hand on the hilt of Divine Blessing.
"Wait! Ren-sensei, Miss Xenovia—please, both of you, calm down! There's more to this Holy Sword incident than you think. There's someone else behind it—and we've already uncovered the truth!"
Just as Ren and Xenovia focused, poised to strike—
Two figures suddenly rushed in, disrupting the battlefield and halting the imminent clash.
A boy and a girl.
They had been working together recently, investigating the Holy Sword incident.
By chance, the boy had encountered a mad priest while trying to rescue a nun—and that priest had been wielding a Holy Sword as well.
After a series of investigations, the two of them uncovered the truth.
That mad priest was an exile of the Church—
And one of the prime suspects behind the theft of the Holy Swords.
"We were going to tell you earlier," the boy said urgently, "but things got complicated. That exiled priest's name is Freed Selzen. He was cast out after losing control and slaughtering his own comrades. Now he's basically a rogue priest."
"And when we fought him," the girl added, "he was definitely using a Holy Sword. Ren-sensei isn't your enemy—the one who stole the swords is most likely Freed. And ever since his exile, he's been working with the fallen angels."
They spoke quickly, laying out everything they had discovered in hopes of preventing things from escalating any further.
Xenovia and Irina exchanged a glance.
At this point, they believed most of it.
After all—
If Ren had truly intended to kill them, he'd had countless chances already.
Xenovia likely wouldn't have even had the opportunity to summon Durandal.
"Then if he's not the heretic who stole the Holy Swords… why is he taking ours?" Xenovia demanded, her grip tightening.
Ren didn't hesitate.
"I'll be honest," he said casually. "I didn't steal them from the Church."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"But I am interested in them."
He glanced at the swords planted in the ground.
"These two are already mine—spoils of victory. And the rest over there? I'll be taking those too."
He paused, as if considering something ridiculous.
"Who knows—if I gather all seven, maybe I can summon a dragon and make a wish."
Silence.
Everyone present stared at him, completely baffled.
"…What are you even talking about?" someone muttered.
Ren sighed lightly, shaking his head.
"You really don't get it, do you?"
His gaze shifted past them, toward the darkness beyond.
"You've been followed. The information you found? It was probably fed to you on purpose."
His voice remained calm.
"They've been tailing you this whole time—right up to here."
A faint smile appeared.
"But that works out for me. Saves me the trouble of tracking them down myself to steal the rest of the Holy Swords."
The boy and girl froze, shock written all over their faces.
And then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow, deliberate applause echoed from the darkness.
Footsteps followed.
Several figures emerged, their silhouettes gradually becoming clear under the faint light.
"I expected those two little devils to report their findings straight to the Gremory heiress," a man's voice drawled. "Instead, they ran off to a place like this."
He chuckled.
"And to think—I came here expecting nothing… only to hook an even bigger catch."
The speaker stepped forward into view.
A middle-aged man with long black hair. His eyes were entirely red—no whites, just a deep, unsettling crimson.
He stood at the center of the group, clearly their leader.
Behind him, ten black wings unfurled.
A fallen angel.
And not just any—
A ten-winged one.
Among fallen angels, that placed him firmly in the ranks of high-level commanders.
"You must be the so-called strongest half-demon who's been causing such a stir lately," the man said, fixing his gaze on Ren. "I've heard even that arrogant White Dragon Emperor couldn't gain the upper hand against you."
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"If you were to die here tonight… it would surely have quite the impact on the peace talks between the three factions, wouldn't it?"
Ren met his gaze, utterly unfazed.
"Oh? So you're the fallen angel leader Azazel mentioned—the one planning to come after me."
He tilted his head slightly, his tone almost playful.
"But tell me… what makes you so sure I'm the one you've caught?"
A faint smirk appeared.
"Maybe you're the fish instead."
His eyes flicked over the man, assessing.
"For a ten-winged fallen angel, your aura's… underwhelming. Honestly, you don't even compare to the White Dragon Emperor I met before."
That did it.
The man's expression twisted instantly with fury.
His pride had been struck clean through.
"Know your place!" he roared. "My name is Kokabiel—a ten-winged fallen angel commander! I am a survivor of the great war between God, the Devil Kings, and the Fallen!"
His crimson eyes burned with rage.
"Compared to me, you're nothing more than an insignificant nobody!"