The Sword Emperor Transmigrates-Chapter 287

“——Hm.”

In the midst of countless, perhaps tens of thousands of exchanged blows, Declan’s brow twitched. His heightened perception, sharpened to the level of the Deification Tier through his union with Ancestor Cardenas, was sensitive enough to read every flicker of life scattered across the battlefield.

From deep within the abyss, Drake exhaled his final breath inside Talos’s cockpit. As the barrier that had imprisoned Monegarm collapsed, Antonius was swallowed by the void, disappearing into a place from which he could never return.

Simon’s magic, Adam Kadmon, which had been cast at the cost of his own existence alongside his mage-construct, Ein-Sof, was locked in a fierce struggle against the God of Death Balor.

Ancestor Cardenas, who shared this perception with Declan, let out a bitter laugh.

—Our proud comrades have gone on ahead of us.

I suppose they have.

Declan inwardly agreed as he faced the formidable foe before him.

If possible, I’d like to cut this one down quickly and go to assist Leonard, but things aren’t going as I’d hoped.

—Hah! That monster is infamously known as the Ruin of Asgard. They say he could single-handedly annihilate an entire pantheon. In terms of sheer battle prowess, he may be even more fearsome than Balor. Don’t concern yourself with anything else. If he walks away from this, the rest of us won’t.

Ancestor Cardenas’ warning was not the slightest bit exaggerated.

Surtr, a being far more dangerous than any frost giant, was the king of fire giants, a monstrous ruler who had held his throne through sheer might. According to the broken prophecies left behind during the God-Slaying War, he was the demon king destined to descend upon the world and set it ablaze on the day Asgard met its end.

Declan, having felt Surtr’s strength firsthand, had no rebuttal to that assessment. Unlike other Outer Gods who relied on sheer size, overwhelming power, or divine authority to dominate, Surtr was... a knight.

Ten meters tall—small for a jotun—yet that frame is nothing but compressed might. Unfathomable density, absurd mobility, and, on top of that, a depth of martial skill rivaling the greatest warriors. He’s a nightmare for mages.

Had it been anyone other than Declan and Ancestor Cardenas facing him, they wouldn’t have lasted a single minute before being cut to pieces.

Surtr was a foe who allowed no spells to be cast, no gestures to be formed. His very presence devoured time, leaving no room for incantations or sigils. Even Talos’s formidable defenses would have struggled to withstand the weight of Surtr’s greatsword. If it were something like Hydra, which relied on sheer output, Talos could stand a chance—but against a monster who could precisely carve through the seams of armor with surgical precision, it was a losing battle.

Only the lineage of Cardenas had the ability to stand against Surtr.

—He’s coming.

Before Ancestor Cardenas’ voice faded, Surtr crossed hundreds of meters in a single leap, appearing right in front of Declan.

Had Leonard seen it, he would have called it Shukuchi—a technique that folded space itself.

But this was an entirely different level from what Vulcanus had mimicked before. This was a Fire God as well as a Sword God—a true deity of war. Surtr’s blade came down in a decisive arc.

———————.

There was complete silence. How many in this world could truly comprehend such horror?

Damn it!

Declan instinctively deflected the strike, but behind him, the very ground split apart, birthing a canyon where solid earth had once stood. The deep rumbling of the collapsing land felt too surreal.

Surtr’s sword paid no heed to air resistance. It sliced through the gaps between space itself, severing something more fundamental than molecules and atoms—something beyond human comprehension, beyond civilization’s grasp.

And so, Declan took a step forward. Had he been his usual self, he would have been cleaved in two just moments ago. It was only through Ancestor Cardenas’ sword realm that he barely managed to keep up.

Even the sound of Declan’s blade disappeared. The clash of swords resumed on equal footing, the two warriors now battling in a domain beyond mere physicality.

Ten meters versus two. By all logic, they were leagues apart in size, but at the level of a True God, weight was irrelevant.

What truly mattered was the principle behind their movements.

The very laws of the world struggled to keep pace, a beat behind the unfathomable swordplay unfolding between them. This was the peak of swordsmanship.

A slaughterhouse of pure, unrelenting carnage.

Clankkkk.

A discordant hum, fleeting yet lethal. A strike that Declan failed to fully parry grazed his temple, slicing clean through the outer rim of his ear and bisecting the hill behind him.

Every move was a brush with death. The heat of his own blood trickling down his nape barely registered in his mind. He was extremely focused. If mere swordsmanship wasn’t enough, then he had no choice but to step beyond to the realm of Sword Gods.

Declan’s movements grew more refined and precise, becoming closer to Ancestor Cardenas’ movements. A single step folded space, his vision adjusting to perceive the rifts in time itself.

Even so, against Surtr, he was barely holding on, skirting the edge of defeat.

This bastard... Don’t tell me—?!

—He’s enjoying this. Looks like he finds our little duel quite entertaining.

Ancestor Cardenas’ observation was spot on. Had Surtr pressed his attack with full force and ignored all thought of efficiency, Declan would already be dead. The giant was holding back—just enough to prolong the fight.

—There’s an opening.

Unlike Declan, who was facing a Deification Tier foe for the first time, Ancestor Cardenas was a veteran.

She saw immediately that this was their chance. Thinking back, Surtr’s demeanor had always been oddly emotionless compared to other Outer Gods. He was not a being fueled by malice or bloodlust. It was as if he were merely fulfilling a task, mechanically carrying out his duty. If he had come to aid in the invasion of the Middle Realm after failing to bring about the destruction of Asgard, then the story might still make sense.

If Surtr had lost interest because all the gods who once reveled in battle had vanished in the God-Slaying War, then reigniting that interest could create an opportunity to turn the tide in a more favorable direction.

—Declan, can you do it?

Hah. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t prepared to risk everything.

Declan responded without the slightest hesitation to Ancestor Cardenas’ instruction to charge into the jaws of death. A reckless move that rendered all strategic calculations meaningless—a suicidal move.

For an instant—just an instant—Surtr was a fraction of a beat too slow.

Splat!

The fire giant’s flank split open. A dark liquid, whether molten lava or blood, gushed forth.

It had been a gamble, a reckless, desperate move. But for the first time, Declan had managed to wound Surtr. The cut was shallow. It hadn’t reached bone or muscle, and it hadn’t even fully sliced through his hide.

—■■■■■■.

For the first time, Surtr’s gaze sharpened, his golden eyes locking onto Declan with newfound interest.

Not as a mere plaything. Not as entertainment. But as an enemy.

With that shift in intent, the air grew heavier, and the battlefield twisted into a true killing zone.

This was it. For Ancestor Cardenas’ ultimate strike to land, Surtr needed to fully engage. If he lost interest, even for a moment, the plan would fail.

“——Hoo.”

Exhaling what could be his final breath, Declan stepped forward into the killing zone. Surtr responded in kind, his greatsword descending in a strike meant to end everything.

A chill ran down Declan’s spine.

The standoff was only thirty percent in his favor. Even in a favorable situation, it was difficult to gain an upper hand. But here, they faced an overwhelmingly disadvantageous battle where the odds of death were near certain. To break through such a predicament was the essence of Ancestor Cardenas’ sword. It was also the original form of the Cardenas family’s swordsmanship, which was passed down through the family in its formless style.

So... it wasn’t the Cardenas Style Formless Sword after all, was it?

Though the swordsmanship was renowned for its versatility, the ability to unleash its full potential in any situation, its true nature was the complete opposite.

Ancestor Cardenas, who had once stood at the forefront of the Empire’s Founding War alongside the First Emperor Ragna, had faced countless adversaries. Many among them were dragons, powerful beings that stood between the Demigod Tier and the True God level. She had cleaved through them all, one by one, laying the foundation of the empire.

She had not been at the Deification Tier from the very start. There were times when she had to fight as the weaker party and face overwhelming odds. This was not something that versatility alone could overcome.

—That’s right. The essence of my swordsmanship does not lie in its versatility but in its specificity.

If the only way forward was through the eye of a needle, then she would become the needle. If the opening was as thin as a strand of hair, then she would make herself thinner than that strand.

Because her swordsmanship could become anything, it was mistaken as formless. Even her own descendants had failed to inherit its true essence. If victory could be achieved and the enemy slain, nothing else mattered. Thus, it was not formless—it had infinite forms.

The longer the battle, the more refined the swordsmanship became. The more refined it became, the closer it reached perfection.

Cardenas Style

Rising Dragon Sword

A sword of absolute victory, one that contained no fixed techniques, no predefined ultimate technique, only the purest principles of the blade. Declan could do nothing but marvel at the logic behind the swordsmanship manifesting through him.

The Sword God’s single strike swept away even the despair of a man who had resigned himself before the wall of the Deification Tier, leaving not a single fragment behind.

Against Surtr, whose blade was so sharp that it sliced through space itself, she deflected the attack with the flat of her sword and took half a step forward. Her sword dance had denied the inevitability of a death that should have arrived within ten seconds, and stopped a blade that was so sharp that it had cut through space itself without leaving anything in its wake.

—■■■!

Surtr, too, seemed exhilarated by this swordplay. The fire giant, now revealing even greater power, bore down upon Ancestor Cardenas with monstrous precision.

A sword of refined destruction, honed to absolute efficiency. If Surtr’s sword was textbook perfection, then Ancestor Cardenas’ sword was pure anomaly. Her sword moves seemed reckless and suicidal, but they were calculated with such foresight and certainty that they could tear through imperceptible gaps and carve the path to victory.

Craaaack...

Declan and Ancestor Cardenas both heard the unmistakable sound of destruction echo within Declan. His mortal frame could no longer endure the strain and was breaking apart.

Even so, the Rising Dragon Sword was nearly complete. The formula for absolute victory was simple: a strike that could not be dodged, a force that could not be blocked, and an attack that made survival impossible.

—Now.

Surtr, utterly immersed in the joy of battle, had simplified his movements. Even at their simplest, his strikes were still of the absolute highest caliber—but Ancestor Cardenas could break through.

With one final, decisive move, she could kill this monstrous fire giant challenging them.

This was the ultimate sword art of Ancestor Cardenas, the strongest Sword God of the Arcadian Empire.

Victoria

The very blade of triumph, praised by the Founding Emperor Ragna as the sword of the goddess of victory, shot forward like a blinding flash of light.

————————————!!

The blade’s radiance tore through the netherworld’s ceiling, piercing toward the surface. Surtr’s massive flaming greatsword was severed, and behind that sword, the fire giant himself was cleaved in two.

This was the authority of the Sword God, Ancestor Cardenas. It could manifest a victory with a probability converging to zero.

—■■...? ■■■■■.

Surtr smiled, body cleaved in two from the crown of his head to his groin and molten blood gushing from his forehead like a lava fountain. His grotesque, infernal features twisted in such a way that they almost seemed like a menacing grin.

In the end, it was exactly as they had expected. The conquest and destruction of the Middle Realm were nothing more than trivial amusements for Surtr, a mere pastime he had indulged in for his own entertainment. Now that he had satisfied that desire, he welcomed even defeat.

His towering, ten-meter frame of flames began to fade, gradually turning transparent until, in an instant, he vanished without a trace.

It was not the departure of a vanquished soul bitter with regret.

“...You won.”

—Call it our victory, if you will. After all, it was our doing, wasn’t it?

Ancestor Cardenas responded to Declan’s words, her presence growing fainter. The backlash from wielding her ultimate technique in a dying body had shattered what remained of her lingering soul. She was reaching her end, but she was not alone in that fate; Declan was dying too.

—Do you think that boy Leonard saw my sword? It would be nice if I taught him just one more lesson before leaving.

“He saw it. He has the eyes of a dragon, after all.”

—Is that so? I should be more concerned for myself, I suppose. I’ve missed my time to leave by nearly a thousand years. Let’s just hope I don’t lose my way.

At her uncharacteristic lament, Declan chuckled and reassured her, “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you.”

—Hah, you’re a first-time traveler yourself. Just try to keep up.

Before her laughter could completely fade, her voice was abruptly cut off. Declan’s vision grew dim. At some point, he had lost even the strength to remain standing and had collapsed to his knees.

Unfortunately, there was no sunrise or sunset in the underworld. Only the oppressive weight of dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, staring down at him.

And yet, the sky was not entirely bleak. The scars left behind by Victoria streaked through the darkness like golden light—like sunlight peeking through the cracks of a storm.

Ha... Haha... how... beautiful...

With the last of his strength, Declan reached toward the divine sword he had finally grasped at the very end of his life. But his hand never made it. It fell limply to his side, and then his entire body crumbled into ash, dissolving into nothingness.

Not even a corpse or a trace of his soul was left behind. And yet, his lips still remained curled in a satisfied smile until his very last fragment disintegrated.