A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

He doesn't even need to do anything deliberately; countless dead people who should be sleeping underground are revived.

"Ding!" But all that answered him was a crisp metallic clanging sound.

"Compared to this... that kid who's even younger than you has such an incredibly kind heart."

"Wake up, you're not at an age where you can indulge in fantasies anymore." The tenth rider, under the instruction of the Golden Seed, wielded boundless divine power.

Even in the face of the "final echo," the divine power was not completely worn away.

However, this is normal; the "Swan Song" was never intended to be a weapon for "torturing gods."

It simply means that people don't have to kneel before concepts.

Every soul can become His weapon, and every step He takes can spread death.

Anyone who stands beside Him will naturally turn into bones.

"Let me show you just how great our Lord Dizoka really is."

The heavens and earth will tremble because of this battle of the divine messengers.

This is a battle chosen by the gods; it should be incredibly exciting.

No, that's exactly how it should be, that's the only reasonable way.

However, it is not.

Standing before a monster that was clearly superior to a lower species, Bray was neither surprised, nor did he retreat, nor did he feel excited.

It was as if they had foreseen that the tenth rider would turn out this way.

It was bland, dull, and unremarkable.

Bray had seen far too many people like this; this young man who called himself the Tenth Rider was just one of them.

The howling of the dead and the stench of decay seemed to have no effect on Bray.

He assumed a stance and adjusted his breathing slightly.

The tenth rider, having shown off his terrifying power enough, unleashed a divine spell and hurled it at Bray.

However, before He could raise His hand, Bray moved. He had no interest in watching others unleash their attacks before engaging in turn-based combat.

The first sword.

The enormous arm was severed from the skeletal knight's body.

There was no blood, only shattered fragments scattered haphazardly in all directions.

"Don't push your luck, mortal!" The tenth rider unleashed an area-of-effect divine spell.

The second sword strike.

After the scythe slipped from the skeleton knight's hand, it was sliced ​​into several pieces in mid-air.

The divine spell, which has not yet taken effect, is severed from this peer.

"I am the one whom the gods have placed their hopes on!" The tenth rider shattered the earth with his arm, inciting the wrath of the dead.

The third sword strike.

The knight's massive, imposing body was severed, and his upper body fell heavily to the ground.

The word "death" was cut off.

“It shouldn’t be like this…” The Tenth Rider’s crimson eyes held a look of disbelief at the entire world.

Things shouldn't have unfolded this way.

He should have crushed this person in front of him who had no divine favor.

Even at the very least, the battle would be evenly matched, and in the end, one would rely on divine grace to crush the enemy.

He never imagined that he would be unable to even defend himself.

Every strike of His was magnificent and earth-shattering.

Just by looking at the surrounding scenery being distorted by himself, one can deeply realize the immense power he possesses.

He even had the illusion that he was getting closer to God.

But illusions are just illusions. The facts before Him mercilessly mock Him, telling Him that He is still just an object that anyone can trample on.

Demigods can ravage themselves, and now even ordinary mortals can.

The battle was so simple, and the process so brief.

Everything was unbelievable; before I could even react, I had already lost.

Where are the inspiring lines? Where are the words that humiliate those who are inferior to us?

He heard nothing, only saw his scythe clashing with the opponent's sword again and again, and himself being defeated time and time again.

In the end, they ended up like this.

"This shouldn't be happening, this shouldn't be happening! I shouldn't look like this!" The tenth rider, whose only remaining body was still mobile, struggled to speak.

Even if only half of His body remained, it would still be as huge as a small mountain.

The shadows alone were enough to completely envelop Bray.

He used his elbows to slowly drag his body closer to Bray.

The skeletal helmet cracked open, like a wild beast opening its bloody maw and roaring incessantly.

If He could crush Bray, He would surely do so.

"Why have I become like this? Why am I so weak!" The tenth rider angrily questioned Bray.

A thunderous roar emanated from the skeletal skull, which could no longer be described as a helmet.

Bray did not answer any of the Tenth Rider's questions.

"Do you even remember what you came here to do?" Bray asked slowly, staring at the other person with his right eye.

The tenth rider was speechless.

He certainly remembered the reason for his coming, but now he could not express it.

“I really don’t understand what you guys are thinking. You’re trying to avenge your comrade, and then you betray your own companions,” Bray said expressionlessly.

"We are divine messengers! We cannot be insulted!!!" The tenth rider shouted out of nowhere.

"Yes, we came to uphold God's dignity, so this sacrifice is normal."

"It's all because of you..."

The roar emanating from beneath the skeletal knight's helmet was deafening.

But the more this was the case, the less Bray understood what this young death hunter was saying.

He shook his head helplessly; the other person had started rambling incoherently.

"I am powerful, not weak!" The fangs bared, and the vast amount of divine power before the skeleton transformed into a purer form of power.

An energy sphere, born solely for the purpose of destruction and without any special effect, converged before Bray's eyes.

"Crack—" Then, a sword pierced through the skeleton knight's outstretched skeleton.

There was nothing beneath the bones; there was no real sensation of hitting something.

Despite this, the tenth rider still let out a scream and continued to wail.

The energy suddenly dissipated, turning into dim specks of light that danced around Bray.

"Don't kill me, I did nothing wrong, it's Dizoka, it's all His fault..." The voice that rang out from under the helmet was no longer majestic, but a panicked and trembling one.

What a waste of such a handsome suit of armor.

First came arrogance, then cowardice.

Ultimately, the tenth rider's arrogance stemmed from fear and cowardice.

“I warned you beforehand, I’m not a pushover,” Bray said calmly.

There was no anger towards this arrogant and young killer, nor any remorse towards him.

After the blade pierced the helmet, it was suddenly thrust upwards.

Armor fragments and bone fragments flew everywhere, like the splashes of water when a whale leaps out of the water.

"Crack!!!" After a short sound, the entire upper body of the skeletal knight was cleanly cleaved in two by a longsword with a white shadow.

"A servant of the gods?"

The remains of the skeletal knight gradually turned into dust, dissipating into the air.

Bray didn't put the two swords away; instead, he stuck them in the side like this.

"It seems He didn't give you much power either."

"That guy's hand, no matter how casually he makes it, is harder than yours."

"You are merely a pawn He uses to test me."

"Should I say you're hateful, or that I'm helpless?" Bray sat on a rock in the wasteland, silently took out a box of cigarette candy from his waist bag, and leisurely began to nibble on it.

This cigarette candy isn't like the old kind that you can light it and it smokes anymore; it just doesn't taste the same.

He sat on a rock, with the remains of the group that had not yet completed their transformation beside him.

This scene evokes an indescribable sense of loneliness.

He was able to defeat this thing that might not even be considered human.

But he's the only one here who can defeat this thing.

Even someone like him doesn't know which way to go from here.

"—Useless Master, your thoughts are getting more and more chaotic." The girl's voice rang out.

It seemed to come from an endless distance, or perhaps it was whispering right in my ear.

Upon hearing the girl's words, Bray could even vaguely imagine the rustling sound of turning pages.

—Even the "black keys" are starting to mock you.

"Even the 'Black Key' is mocking me..." Bray slumped his eyelids dejectedly, his tone somewhat helpless.

“I never wanted to kill anyone,” he said slowly.

In the wasteland, his mutterings made him look like a madman.

Like an adventurer driven mad by something.

Of course, Bre is perfectly normal, so normal that he can even cook you a few incredibly delicious dishes.

"But why does everything tell me 'you have to take action'?"

"I didn't want you to get stained with unnecessary blood, but in the end, I still couldn't prevent this from happening."

"Are you saying you're worried about us?"

"No, I just want to adhere to the few principles that remain."

"So, you're not planning to make a move until these guys turn into monsters?"

"Who knows?"

“Perhaps from the moment that young man arrived, this monster was destined to be born.” Bray tilted his head back, pretending to enjoy smoking, and munched on a cigarette candy.

The sunlight was not glaring at all; shrouded in a light mist, Bray could even look directly at the sun with his right eye.

"Ha, almost thirty and still trying to act cool." The chuunibyou kid's disdainful tone suddenly interrupted.

Breton paused, then, with a cigarette candy dangling from his lips, sheathed his sword.

"It's good to indulge in romance once in a while; it's a great way to relieve stress."

"You call this romantic?"

“Kid, you’ll understand when you grow up. Maybe you’ll be chanting ‘a man’s romance’ all the time.” Bray scoffed, ignoring the soon-to-disappear wreckage beside him, stood up, dusted off his muddy old trousers, and walked alone toward the safe zone.

As he walked, Bray casually wiped away the marks on his body.

He has no intention of negotiating with the other killers.

The vengeful spirits who came seeking revenge couldn't even have a proper conversation, let alone gather any intelligence.