I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

The Death March was an event that required mandatory personnel support from across the Empire, which meant that even within the Imperial Palace, it was essential to allocate people to be sent.
In other words, this applied without exception even to the First Prince and the Second Princess.

In fact, if these were the two most powerful individuals in the Empire, then the people they sent to such a place were hardly ordinary soldiers. There would be no one especially nervous about that fact.
However, there was something different this time—an unusual request.
Both the Prince and the Princess had been told to carefully keep an eye on the same person.

“...Who the hell is this Carlyle Belfast guy supposed to be?”
That was probably the shared thought of those assigned to the Prince’s and Princess’s sides.
To be ordered to report every single movement of a man they had never even heard of before? And from what they’d heard, he was just a Yoram graduate. Why should they pay such close attention to someone like that?

And honestly—
Even if they were elites, in the middle of a Death March there was hardly time to concern themselves with something like that.
“Flank, watch the flank!”
A beast that looked like a dog swung its hook-like claws diagonally.

While the heavily armored front-line knight swiftly blocked it with his shield, a rifleman who had been preparing in the middle quickly took the shot, blasting the beast’s head apart with a magitech firearm.
Another carcass was added to the mountain of monster corpses piled nearby.
“...It never ends, damn it.”

Everyone looked visibly exhausted.
They always described the Death March as an endless tide of monsters stretching beyond the horizon, but none of them had ever truly believed it until now.
No one could say how many they had killed so far. This was the first time even for them to fight continuously for half a day.

They had heard that it was fiercer than usual because of this so-called Black Omen, but still—this was the limit.
Even so, not one person here showed any sign of unease.
During the three days of the Death March, everyone knew exactly what arrived around this time.

“Well, it’s over now anyway.”
Someone let out a sigh and lifted off their helmet.
An outsider would have been horrified at such recklessness—removing one’s helmet when monsters still lingered all around?

“They’re coming.”
But no one stopped him.
Because they all knew very well what was about to descend.

“It’s… a dragon.”
The moment someone grinned and said that—
From the sky—

Death descended.
—
—!!!!!
A dragon with distinctive red scales twisted its body in the air and opened its mouth.
As the Breath of Destruction gathered within, a heat like a false sun overhead scorched the plain where the monsters swarmed.

The dragon’s breath had always been a symbol of ruin and death, but witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Countless monsters covering the field were reduced to ash in a single instant.
“...A Paladin, wasn’t it? From the Orthodox Church?”

“She’s a member of the Round Table. People like us would never even get close to her.”
The Spirit Knight—Shiona Libelle.
She wasn’t even using the spirit arts she was famous for. Simply by transforming into her true dragon form and relying on her racial abilities, she could clear this many monsters without trouble.

And it didn’t end there.
“Wanna bet who kills more?”
Someone else spoke up.

“Between the Spirit Knight and the Master of the Magic Tower.”
And then—
“—Let there be light.”

A deep, weighty voice rang across the entire plain.
A massive explosion of light erupted from the very center of the monster horde, splitting the battlefield in two.
It was a Grand-Scale magic—one that only the highest-ranking mages could use.

Even the Master of the Magic Tower was said to need hours of preparation for it, but its power was absolute.
The monsters that had survived the dragon’s breath and were still charging left behind not even ash; they simply scattered into nothingness, erased in the blinding flash.
“It does make things easier, I’ll give them that.”
Someone chuckled bitterly.

“All we have to do is hold the line until those two wipe everything out.”
And indeed, even with this being one of the most grueling Death Marches in history, the two dragons’ presence was utterly overwhelming.
For people like them, just holding on was enough for the field to be cleared.

Still—there was nothing more dangerous than relaxing too soon.
“—Wait, a few more are coming!”
“What?!”

Several monsters had somehow survived that devastating bombardment and were now charging toward them.

How had they lived through that?
“Ready for combat! Everyone, raise your—!”

But again—
Their alarm proved to be unnecessary.
—!

Someone shot into their midst like a flash of light.
With a single slash as he drew his sword from the scabbard, he cut down every last monster running across the field.
“...?”

Everyone stared blankly at the scene.
It wasn’t just that he had sliced through carapaces that could easily deflect bullets and blades—it was how he had done it.
How could one strike cut through that much area at once?

“...Are you all right?”
The young man with orange hair who had caused the scene spoke politely, a friendly smile on his face.
When one of them nodded awkwardly, he nodded back with the same smile.

“That’s a relief. Well then, I’ll head somewhere else now!”
And just like that, he vanished.
Someone muttered blankly.

“...Hey.”
They had realized what the most absurd part of that scene was.
“That guy… didn’t use a single ability. He did that barehanded, right?”

“...Looked like it.”
“...”
“...”

...Silence fell.
Even compared to the two dragons, it was undeniably a bizarre sight.
***

“...That’s the last one.”
Carlyle let out a sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow.
He’d spent the whole day darting around the front lines, cutting down the monsters that slipped through.

Anything that Shiona’s breath or Leona’s magic failed to finish off, he handled.
During the three days of the Death March, that had been his main role.
...Cleanup duty, really. Rather humble compared to the dragon sisters.

Still, there was one benefit.
The Dean said my skills had improved…
He could feel it.

Not just his ability to wield his Gift—his combat strength itself had risen.
At this point, there was no way a low-tier demon could trouble him.
[You’ve become decent. You’re not just holding out anymore—you’ve gotten much better at taking the initiative.]

Even the Hero herself was acknowledging it.
Which means…
It was time to start attempting the things he’d been putting off.

[Putting off?]
I delayed training to merge with you because of the strain it puts on my body and mind, remember?
The sheer power contained within the Holy Sword—Gray’s own—was unrivaled, but Carlyle’s body, the “vessel” for that power, had been the bottleneck.

Now that his own specs had improved this much, he could devote himself to training with her again.
While he was thinking this—
“...Uh, um, hey—”

A voice sent a chill down his spine.
Leona had somehow approached him without notice, scratching her cheek awkwardly.
“How many monsters… were left?”

“...Yes, there were a few.”
“Uh, well, I—I, uh, accidentally let some slip through…”
“...”

She must have meant some monsters had survived her Grand-Scale magic.
That could happen.
If anything, he should commend her for wiping out that many at once.

But—
“I… could’ve killed them all. I messed up like an idiot.”
“...”

So… what exactly did she want from him?
When Carlyle gave her a damp look, she pressed her forefingers together and started twirling them.
“I… messed up.”

“Yes.”

“I said I messed up.”
“...”

By now, there was no avoiding it.
His role during these three days of the Death March had not been limited to cleanup duty.
Suppressing a deep sigh, Carlyle spoke.

“Miss Leona.”
“...Mm.”
He stepped closer, lifted her chin with his fingers, and glared down at her.

The corners of Leona’s mouth twitched—clearly struggling not to smile.
“How many times have I told you to do it properly?”
“S… sorry…”

“If I hadn’t cleaned up after you, there could have been casualties. Do you realize that?”
“U-uhh… mmm…”
“If you ever pull something like this again, I don’t know how I’ll treat you. You useless piece of trash.”

“...Wow, that’s actually—”
She stopped herself mid-sentence, apparently cutting off an inappropriate remark.
“—Not good. I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

Squirming, flushed, panting—
It made him want to run.
Scary.

What was wrong with this pervert?
“C-Carlyle.”
“Yes, Professor Shiona?”

“I, uh… honestly don’t think I did it perfectly either.”
“...”
…After dealing with something similar ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) again, Carlyle returned to his quarters in tears.

“I can’t do this, Hero.”
[...I see.]
“I’m serious, I can’t. It’s killing me…”

[...I understand.]
Even the Hero sounded at a loss for how to comfort him.
Having the dragon sisters waiting for scolding after every battle was beyond stressful.

And saying these kinds of disgusting lines to people he knew was exhausting in itself. Why couldn’t they just get along normally…?
[Well, your relationship is progressing by the day. Maybe that’s the power of love—]
“This is not the power of love, you insane—!”

What kind of love was satisfying the twisted desires of masochistic dragons?
[If they enjoy it, isn’t it love?]
“...”

So there was a kind of love like this in the world?
The world was too cold, dark, and cruel. Carlyle had no confidence in surviving it…
[Well, it’s a relief you don’t seem to enjoy it yourself.]

“…Why is that a relief?”
[It just is.]
Listening to another incomprehensible comment from the Hero—

Someone else had clearly arrived to add to his stress.
“…Yes, I’m coming.”
Hearing a cough outside his tent, Carlyle trudged over and pulled the flap aside.

“...”
“...”
The messenger who had first told him to “build the power of love” with the two dragons was staring at him with pity.

Seeing Carlyle’s moist eyes must have prompted all sorts of thoughts.
“Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right to you?”

“...”
“More people call me ‘dragon tamer’ or ‘beast’ than by my own name. Do I look all right, you—”
“...”

Barely holding back his words, Carlyle watched the messenger look up at the sky, swallowing everything he’d been about to say.
Finally composed, Carlyle asked,
“What is it?”

“You look tired, so I’ll be brief.”
The messenger sighed.
“Tomorrow will be the most dangerous point of the Death March. We need a meeting about it.”

“And?”
“The Black Lion Margrave is waiting. Let’s go together.”
“...”

…Well.
That woke him up.