The iron grating opened without a sound. There was no resistance against his pushing hand. Yuto stopped for just a moment. Sharutia's back floated through his mind. She hadn't said a word about the lock or the grating. She'd simply thrust the sword through, flipped her silver hair, and vanished into the torchlight. The lock being undone wasn't coincidence. He knew that much. He bit his lip. Had he been trusted, or tested—probably neither. Sharutia had simply left him with a choice. Use it or don't. That was up to him. He stepped into the corridor. Cold stone tiles pressed against the soles of his feet. His broken ribs responded sharply with each step. Shallow breath in, hold, exhale. He repeated the pattern as he walked toward the surface exit. Halfway there, he found a scrap of cloth caught in a crack in the stone wall. Old linen. Dirty, but the fibers still held firm. Yuto pressed his back against the wall, gritted his teeth, and shifted his shirt aside. He wrapped the cloth tightly around his ribs. Every time the broken bone moved, a stabbing pain shot through him. But if he could stabilize it, he could run. He fastened the steel sword Sharutia had given him to his waist. It was heavy. Nearly twice as heavy as his own thin blade. But it was a sword. He pushed open the door to the surface exit. The pre-dawn air rushed into his lungs all at once. Stars were out. Yuto stood there for a moment. Behind him lay the entrance disguised as a Nazarick ruin. The cold stone of the underground prison still clung to his body. But the air was different. Alive. The smell of grass, the smell of earth, the distant sound of wind rustling through trees. There was no place to return to. But there was a place he needed to go. The farming settlement on the outskirts of E-Rantel—where Voidcrow scouts had been spotted. Thirty-five kilometers away. He ran. --- Along the way, Yuto repeated practice swings. Swinging the sword while running. His broken ribs screamed. He didn't stop. As he swung, he broke it down in his mind. The fight with Sharutia. Five exchanges before he fell, frame by frame. The fight with Gald. The few seconds before his ribs broke, in slow motion. The fight with the ogres. The weight shift when his shoulder was pierced by the third one. Not where he lost. What "wall" they all shared. Ainz had said it too—in this world, warriors' abilities were measured by a numerical value called level. If pure numbers in strength and speed surpassed him, there was a limit to what technique could compensate for. Thrust rather than slash. Minimal movement instead of grand gestures. The moment the opponent committed to a wide swing—if he could concentrate all his power into that single point, the numerical difference became irrelevant. Slip into their guard, strike the vital point. That was Yuto's answer: combining the "reading" of kendo with the battles of this world. As he repeated the practice swings, his body began to remember. Deflect the opponent's wide swing with minimal movement. Close the distance without losing momentum. Drive the blade straight into the vital points—eyes, throat, the tendon behind the knee. The form was sinking into his body. When he felt it was right, torchlight appeared at the edge of his vision. The settlement. --- Yuto stopped before the torches. He stood in the dark brush, sensing the surroundings. There were presences from three directions. Faint rustling of cloth. Footsteps muffled but not completely silent. Three places where the grass moved unnaturally. Scouts. Yuto examined the settlement's terrain with his eyes. Behind the settlement, a narrow ravine continued through rocky ground. About two meters wide. A dead-end-like terrain, squeezed between rock walls on both sides. There. Lure them in one at a time. Yuto deliberately stepped on a dry branch. The crack shattered the silence. One of the brush patches moved. It had noticed his position. Yuto ran toward the ravine's entrance. Not hiding his footsteps—deliberately loud. Making them think he was fleeing. He ran deep into the ravine and stopped, pressing his back against the rock wall. Footsteps approached. One person. The moment the scout stepped into the ravine, Yuto moved. He swept the legs. The body collapsed. He pressed his sword to the scout's neck. His eyes alone conveyed the message: don't make a sound. The scout froze. Eyes wide with fear beneath the black raven mask. He found rough rope and bound the scout, rolling him behind a rock. The second one took longer. Wary, it wouldn't enter. It seemed suspicious that its companion wasn't responding, stopping at the ravine's entrance. Yuto picked up a pebble and threw it deep into the ravine. The sound drew the scout in. Same procedure. Subdued. The third one was aware. The moment Yuto emerged from the ravine, it drew a short blade and charged. Yuto stepped back and deflected with his sword—his broken ribs screamed in agony, his body's movement dulled for an instant. The scout exploited the opening, slamming its body into him directly. His back slammed against the rock wall. The air left his lungs. His vision swam. The scout raised its short blade for a follow-up strike. Yuto twisted his body reflexively. The blade grazed his shoulder. Not deep. But blood came. The scout charged in. Yuto drove his sword straight into the scout's right shoulder tendon—the seeing-through thrust, exactly as practiced. Squelch. The scout dropped its short blade. Its right arm wouldn't move. Its knees buckled. Yuto pinned the falling body and bound it. He rolled the third scout behind a rock and caught his breath. His shoulder wound burned. His ribs were on fire. But all three were subdued. He removed the mask from one of the bound scouts—the first one he'd taken down. A man in his thirties. Fear in his eyes. He pressed his sword to the man's throat. "[serious]What comes next. Tell me honestly," The man answered, trembling. Gald was leading a main force of fifteen to strike the settlement before dawn. This time was different from before—Yuto's death was the top priority order. "[cold]...I see," Yuto shoved cloth into the man's mouth. Gald was coming. No time. --- He pounded on the settlement door. Again and again. "[serious]Wake up! Voidcrow is coming!" Angry voices and sounds of movement came through the wall. The door opened and an old man peered out. His sleepy eyes changed when they saw Yuto's blood-soaked shoulder. "[surprised]You... that..." Yuto had dragged one of the bound scouts with him. He slammed the scout's mask in front of the old man's face. The shape of a black raven's beak. The edges stained with dried rust-red. The color drained from the old man's face. "[scared]Voidcrow...!" "[serious]Fifteen of them coming before dawn. Get everyone to the forest now. Not a single person left behind," His voice carried through the settlement. Children crying, women screaming, men opening doors. Torches began moving everywhere. The old man ran around, calling names one by one to confirm. In fifteen minutes, all signs of people vanished from the settlement. Yuto returned to the ravine's entrance. --- Moonlight painted the rock walls pale blue. The ravine's entrance was only two meters wide. A narrow passage squeezed between rocks on both sides. Fifteen couldn't push through at once. At most, two or three could stand side by side. The numerical disadvantage could be negated by terrain. He'd calculated that. But his hands trembled slightly. He pretended not to notice and gripped the sword's hilt again. His broken ribs stabbed with each breath. His shoulder wound burned. His stamina was depleted. He wasn't fearless. Gald was strong. Those abnormally muscled arms, the body-enhancement sorcery—a direct hit would finish him. He'd learned that at Carne Village. While his head was being stepped on, his face pressed into the ground, he'd learned it alongside the sensation of his thin blade being drawn from his waist. But he wouldn't run. He never considered running. In second grade, he'd let go of her hand. From that day on, he'd gripped his sword wanting to grow stronger. Twenty-four years. For that single point alone. All the days he couldn't protect her were here now. There's nothing else to do. The night began to fade, bit by bit. --- Footsteps came. Multiple. Heavy. Orderly. The footsteps of a trained group. Beyond the ravine's entrance, in the grass about ten meters away, sixteen shadows appeared. The one in front exceeded two meters. Gald. Even in the moonlight, that abnormal physique was unmistakable. His arms swelled with muscle more than double a human's, red light leaking from beneath his mask. The Voidcrow body-enhancement sorcery—the sensation of his body flying through the air when he'd taken that blow at Carne Village returned. Gald saw Yuto standing alone at the ravine's entrance. He stopped. Then—he laughed. "[sarcastic]...It's you again. A weakling standing alone," Yuto said nothing. He took his stance. "[sarcastic]Good spirit. How many more bones do you want broken? Last time it was two ribs. This time I'll start with your legs," Gald jerked his chin toward the back. His subordinates began moving toward the settlement. "[serious]The villagers are gone," Gald's subordinates stopped. "[serious]I got them all out. Your target is me alone—so settle this here," Gald walked slowly forward. One step. Another. Both arms hanging loose, moving with casual confidence. "[sarcastic]Crawling out of Nazarick's dungeon with broken ribs, standing alone. Impressive, you idiot," Yuto didn't move. Gald came within five meters. Yuto drew his right foot back. He raised his sword before his chest. He lowered his hips. His broken ribs screamed, but he gritted his teeth and suppressed the cry. Gald charged. His right arm swung up—a wide swing. Full power. Taking that blow would send his body flying. Yuto moved. Not backward—forward. He charged. His body twisted half a step to the right, deflecting the descending arm's trajectory with minimal movement. Gald's fist cut through empty air. He was inside the guard. The seeing-through thrust—the form he'd repeated in practice swings the entire way. Driving the blade straight— Into Gald's right eye. He thrust. Squelch!! Gald shrieked. "[angry]Ugh—ahhh—!!" The massive body staggered backward. Both hands covering his face, two steps, three steps. His knees wavered. For the first time, that enormous frame was unsteady. Yuto didn't pursue. He looked at Gald's waist. It was there. His thin blade was sheathed at Gald's belt. Silver-white steel. The one in his hand when he'd transferred. The one he'd been forced to surrender while his head was being stepped on at Carne Village. Yuto threw himself at Gald's waist. He pulled the thin blade from the belt. It came free. The thin blade was back in his hand. In that instant— something exploded inside him. An electric current ran from his fingertips to his shoulders, from his shoulders through his entire body. His feet lifted a centimeter from the ground. The pain of his broken ribs receded into the distance. The air felt thinner than before. His senses sharpened—he could hear Gald's breathing. He could sense the positions of the subordinates behind him. He could feel the wind's direction on the back of his hand. What was this. This sword was doing something. But there was no time to think. "[angry]...You bastard...My eye...You took my eye...!!" Gald pulled his hands from his face. His right eye's mask was shattered. Blood streamed from beneath. His right eye was useless. But his left eye burned with savage fury. The massive body charged at Yuto like a beast that had abandoned reason. Yuto took his stance with the thin blade. The electric sensation coursed through his entire body. His body felt light. With this much power— "[serious]Come," He spoke