A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

“No wonder Umm Kandar was in such a sorry state,” Jonathan said, waving his left hand in an operatic tone.

"Then I'll accept your next attack with all my heart." With that, Jonathan opened his arms wide, completely unguarded.

Bray glanced at Jonathan without saying a word; he simply drew his sword.

The multiple strikes stacked together create the illusion that he is about to deliver a single, powerful blow.

But in that instant, fifteen swords had already been unleashed.

"Eighteen Styles" "Fifteen Generals" "Crack—" The sword tore Jonathan's tailcoat apart and struck his chest, which was made up of skeletal undead.

A chisel mark was deeply etched on it.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment—

After the pause, fourteen chisel marks were scattered across the breastplate, centered on the first chisel mark.

"Clang—" The crisp, metallic sound lingered in the air.

The fifteen overlapping sword strikes that Bray made ultimately appeared as if they were made by fifteen different swordsmen.

However, even after taking this heavy blow, Jonathan was still smiling.

“Wow, as expected of Mr. Bray,” Jonathan said happily.

The two swords in Bray's hands had caused him great injury.

But to say that he was truly killed was still a long way off.

Compared to Bray's terrible condition, Jonathan's injuries were nothing to worry about.

Although the mental world of "The Last Echo" gave Bray the ability to fight, without the mental world of the other sword, he had no ability to fight continuously.

Humans are so fragile; they can die very easily.

He will die if he is assassinated, he will die if he is ambushed, but as long as Jonathan inflicts enough damage on Bray, he will die on his own.

It seems a little regrettable, but it also seems like I can breathe a sigh of relief.

“Well then, as a turn-based game, it’s my turn.” Jonathan said lightly, looking down at Bray who was standing right in front of him.

Without using any concept, he simply used the power of his body and the surrounding magic to unleash an attack.

A giant, phantom clown mask appeared and then swallowed Bray whole.

"Boom!!" A series of explosions rang out from inside the giant clown mask.

After it opened its mouth, Bray shot out like a watermelon seed.

Bray managed to regain his balance the moment he landed, enduring the sensation of his body shattering.

"..." After finally managing to stand up, Bray wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand and coughed a few times.

A trail of blood was left on the ground.

"Mr. Bray, Mr. Bray, how are you now?" The clown's laughter rang out from not far away.

He was relaxed and at ease, without the slightest bit of tension in his heart.

Jonathan knew what he was doing and knew how Bray was doing.

Jonathan's seemingly foolish fighting style is actually the best tactic for dealing with Bray.

The Joker has reincarnated time and time again, how could he not have any fighting skills at all?

He naturally knew how to evaluate Bray's fighting style and how he should deal with it.

We must not allow Bray any opportunity to retaliate; once we have struck, we must immediately let go.

The more turn-based the battle, the more disadvantageous it is for Bray, because Bray can't afford to lose health.

Bray is too weak.

“Not good at all,” Bray murmured.

His consciousness was a little hazy, which made Bray wonder for a moment if he was getting old again.

"Is that so? I think so too."

"I'm guessing that the strength in his hands as he grips the sword is weakening, and he probably won't even have the strength to stand up soon."

“You always continued in this state in every battle before.”

"Time and time again."

"Looking back now, it really makes me feel emotional."

"Each time he was on the verge of death, but he managed to use every possible method to keep himself in a fighting state."

"It wouldn't be an exaggeration to describe you as having superb skills."

That's right, no matter how badly Bray is injured, he will always preserve the "possibility" of being able to continue fighting.

You can pierce his abdomen, compress his heart, tear Bray's muscles, blind him, and deafen him—

But you have absolutely no chance of successfully cutting off Bray's hands and feet.

As long as a swordsman can still wield a sword and walk, he has the opportunity to continue fighting.

Just like it is now.

“However, Mr. Bray, you still have your limits,” Jonathan said sagely.

He noticed that Bray's hand holding the sword was trembling slightly, and his breathing was becoming erratic.

Humans are ultimately just humans, not omnipotent gods.

"You encountered a similar situation when you fought Lord Takaman before."

"They clearly won; they clearly swung the final sword."

"But the result was a failure."

Jonathan recounted the past bit by bit, remembering everything about Bray in great detail.

“You remember it too clearly, disgusting.” Even at this moment, Bray still managed to utter a sarcastic remark.

He raised his hands, which were gripping the sword, and felt his strength draining away.

The loss of physical strength far exceeded the rate of recovery.

As Jonathan said, his next attack might not even be able to break through the defense, even if his sword hits.

"..." However, he still struck a pose once again.

“Turn-based combat, right... I think that’s not bad either,” Bray said to Jonathan.

Jonathan laughed when he heard what Bray said.

"Haha, right? I think it's pretty good too."

“It feels like playing a game, doesn’t it?” Even now, Jonathan still maintains this mindset.

If Bray was completely unfazed from beginning to end, then Jonathan was thoroughly enjoying himself from start to finish.

“No.” Bray ruthlessly dismissed Jonathan’s analogy.

"I just feel like it's my turn again, which is nice."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the two swords slashed out again, one after the other.

But this attack was very ordinary, as simple as a sword practice.

Just as Jonathan had predicted, it was a powerless strike.

Jonathan's mask also revealed a sorrowful expression beforehand.

“It’s over…” Jonathan said in a less than pleasant tone.

But just as he was about to add an "ah," he had a "hallucination."

There were many shadows behind Bray.

They were carrying swords, but the swords in their hands were a mixed bag, some the same and some different.

One, two, three... there were so many that Jonathan didn't even want to count them all.

The only common feature of those phantoms was that they looked a lot like Bray.

"Boom!!!" Bray's sword was weak and powerless, but the swords of the people behind him were as heavy as a thousand pounds.

"Hahaha, Mr. Bray!!!!"

"You're amazing! I admire you from the bottom of my heart!" The clown shouted as he felt the shattering sensation on his body.

No anger, no despair, no sorrow.

Jonathan opened his arms, calmly accepting the simple sword strike from the enemy.

"Ah, but it seems that's the end of it." Although the sword was as heavy as ever, it seemed that Bray's blow could not shatter him.

"In that case, Mr. Bray, you must stop here."

“Yes, that’s the end of it,” Bray said, picking up where Jonathan left off.

The clown paused for a second, somewhat puzzled.

"Is that so? Is that how it is?" But Jonathan quickly realized what was going on.

Weakened by Bray's repeated attacks, he is now being pushed by countless swords toward the location of the world's consciousness.

For Bray, "there" was a possibility.

But "there" was unknown to Jonathan.

With Jonathan weakened, Bray could easily bypass him and break into the location of the world's will.

But he still unleashed that sword strike.

Even Bray himself didn't understand the profound meaning behind that sword strike.

"Snap—Snap—"

After being thrust into the place where the world's will resides, Jonathan's armor shattered, and his tuxedo, like black mist, vanished.

Little by little, it all vanished, as if it had never existed.

In the end, even the mask shattered into pieces.

Without the mask, Jonathan's expression was no longer his usual smiling face.

The only thing that can truly make you laugh for a lifetime is a mask.

Instead of Jonathan.

Jonathan, lying face up, had only confusion in his eyes, which were etched with purple lotus flowers.

He had considered the possibility of winning and the possibility of losing, but he hadn't expected Bray to force his way in.

The place where the will of the world resides is very peaceful.

The sound of wind chimes jingling and the sound of water droplets falling like water echoed in my ears.

There are no particularly complex sounds; language simply doesn't exist here.

However, these voices, which could hardly be considered conversations, intertwined and converged into countless pieces of information, which then entered the hearts of others.

This is how the world's will communicates with all things; there is no such thing as a "language barrier."

Because what she said was the words from the furthest distance.

Unfortunately, Jonathan ignored the words of the World Will and continued to gaze upwards, lost in thought.

In fact, he himself didn't know what he was doing lying there.

Listening to the will of the world, isn't that an interesting thing...? But why doesn't Jonathan feel any ripples in his heart?

It was so strange that even Jonathan was confused.

Perhaps he was stunned by Bray's attack.

"Oh... Mr. Bray, what is it all about?" Jonathan paused for a moment, then his confused expression turned into a smile.

“To kill you,” Bray replied breathlessly.

“That’s not how you do it if you want to kill a villain,” Jonathan said with a grin.

“I am still in good health, but you, Mr. Bray, are in terrible condition.”