The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

Bang, bang.

I emptied the entire magazine without hesitation, striking while the momentum was on my side. Missing this opportunity was not an option.

Of course, Lucas didn’t just stand idly by. He rolled swiftly to the side, evading my bullets, and quickly regained his stance.

I dropped the rifle immediately. The strap kept it from hitting the ground, leaving it to hang against my chest. As quickly as possible, I pulled out my automatic pistol and unleashed another barrage toward Lucas.

While less powerful than rifle rounds, I had loaded the pistol with Maramaros rounds imbued with fire attributes. Despite their lighter charge compared to rifle cartridges, the .45 caliber bullets were far from trivial. They were potent enough to cause explosive damage if they struck a target.

Boom, boom. Small explosions erupted near Lucas’s feet.

However, Lucas had long surpassed the level of a swordmaster in the original work. A monster capable of deflecting bullets with his blade, he had no trouble repositioning himself and countering my attacks. With a leap to the side, he escaped my shooting angle and swung his sword at me.

Gritting my teeth, I braced myself and moved to dodge—

—or rather, I tried to.

But before I could even move, the sword slash was intercepted and split in two.

The clash of the two differently colored sword auras scattering in mid-air was so mesmerizing that it stole my attention, even in this tense moment.

“Hmm?”

For a brief moment, Lucas wore a bewildered expression.

“Do you always have the habit of running off without informing your allies? You should work on that. Even I, who enjoyed solitude for a time, recognize the importance of communication in a team.”

The swordmaster, strolling toward us with a cheerful laugh, said this casually.

As he spoke, the sounds of battle echoed all around us. The ground shook, submachine guns rattled in rapid bursts, and explosions erupted, shattering and breaking everything in their wake.

“And if someone wields a sword, wouldn’t it be better to leave them to someone who also wields a sword? I didn’t follow you here just to spectate, you know.”

The swordmaster smiled brightly at me before turning his gaze toward Lucas.

“It’s been a while since we last met, hasn’t it?”

And, as if greeting an old friend, the swordmaster spoke to Lucas.

“Ha.”

At his words, Lucas let out a hollow laugh, the tension momentarily slipping from his posture.

“What’s wrong? Do I seem too insignificant for you to bother cutting down?”

The swordmaster asked Lucas in a relaxed tone, seemingly unconcerned by the ongoing chaos around them.

“...I wouldn’t have thought that in the past.”

Lucas’s expression turned bitter as he spoke. The swordmaster merely shrugged in response.

“Though I failed to catch you last time, I don’t think I showed any disgraceful skills. In fact, wasn’t it you who was being toyed with by a mere girl just now?”

The swordmaster tilted his head slightly toward me, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

“She’s the least talented among my disciples, you know.”

“...”

Was that really necessary, Master?

“Go. You have something to do, don’t you? The fact that you didn’t come here alone suggests you need our help.”

The swordmaster’s voice was calm and steady.

...In the original work, the swordmaster dies at Lucas’s hands.

Not now, though. That happens later—somewhat after this point in the timeline.

Even in the original story, Lucas had already surpassed the swordmaster. In this world... I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t assume he was any weaker than his counterpart from the original.

Despite knowing this, the swordmaster’s confident voice made me want to believe otherwise.

“Go,” he said again.

“...Understood.”

There was no point in saying things like “Stay safe” or “Retreat if it’s dangerous.” Those words would hold no meaning.

I was the one who brought Swordmaster Frederick here, after all.

Yes, this world is different from the original. Just as the swordmaster is here, so too are his disciples.

The situation was no longer the same as when I faced Lucas alone.

I turned my head.

In the distance, the Emperor still stood.

He remained there, gazing silently at the massive machine operating before him.

With a burst of energy, I propelled myself forward, racing toward him.

*

“Are you really willing to risk your life for that talentless disciple of yours?”

“How would you know whether I’m risking my life or simply enjoying a bit of amusement?”

Lucas’s taunting words were met with a laugh from the swordmaster.

Unlike Lucas, who gripped his sword tightly with both hands in a ready stance, the swordmaster stood relaxed, his sword loosely held at his side.

Lucas was confident. He had unwavering faith in his own abilities—this was the man who had invaded the Holy Nation, fought his own siblings, and stolen the relic they had secured.

He had been sure of himself then.

Yet now, the swordmaster standing before him exuded a presence that went beyond that confidence.

“If you think you see some kind of potential in that so-called talentless disciple, then you’ve been deceived.”

“Oh?”

The swordmaster chuckled, intrigued.

“Even though I bear the title of ‘Swordmaster,’ I’d like to know how someone talentless managed to deceive my eyes.”

“What if they could turn back time?”

“...”

“If they could rewind time, make a few attempts, and always produce the perfect outcome—then it would be possible to deceive anyone.”

“Hmm.”

The swordmaster let out a short hum.

“I see.”

His voice was calm and even.

“It does make me wonder how someone with no apparent talent could move so skillfully. They did sometimes act as if they already knew what was going to happen.”

“Exactly, so—”

“But let me ask you this.” The swordmaster fixed his gaze on Lucas.

“If that ‘talentless’ person rewound time to face several swordsmen—no, swordsmen far beyond the ordinary—how many attempts do you think it would take?”

“...What?”

“For someone who can barely wield a sword, who struggles to walk, swing, or even breathe like a proper swordsman—how many years would they have to waste just to grasp the most basic techniques? And how much longer to master them well enough to fight on our level? Can you even imagine the amount of time they must have rewound to compensate for their lack of talent?”

“...”

“You can’t, can you? Neither can I. Because I’ve been a genius from the moment I was born. From the first time I held a sword, I knew this path was mine. I’ve lived my entire life swinging a sword. With time, I’ve come to see things beyond talent. Long ago, I understood that not everyone in this world is like me.”

The swordmaster lightly shook the arm holding his sword.

The sound of an explosion erupted behind them, sending a cloud of dust into the air, but the swordmaster’s calm voice reached Lucas without difficulty.

“And you call it ‘cheating’ to watch someone pour infinite time into growing where they fall short? From their perspective, don’t you think it’s us—the naturally gifted—who seem like the real cheaters?”

Step by step, the swordmaster approached Lucas.

“...If turning back time isn’t cheating, then what is it?”

“Well, there’s a nice word for it: effort.”

The swordmaster smiled.

“That so-called talentless disciple has merely invested the time they had to achieve the best results they could.”

“And if that ‘effort’ renders all my actions meaningless—”

“Yet here we are, facing each other like this.”

The swordmaster’s voice remained steady.

“It doesn’t matter whether time rewinds or not. After all, we wouldn’t even notice it happening, would we? So, why not focus on what’s in front of us instead?”

He gripped his sword tightly with both hands.

“Just facing the opponent before you, feeling the thrill of being alive—that’s enough. Even if time rewinds endlessly, the time before my eyes will always flow forward.”

“...”

“I made a promise to that talentless disciple.”

Frederick spoke with a smile that never wavered.

“My disciple promised to show me someone stronger than myself. That promise has been kept. And thanks to that, I get to experience something truly thrilling in my twilight years. So this time, I suppose I should grant my disciple’s request.”

Bang! Bang! Gunshots rang out from Sylvia’s direction as she continued her fight.

“I swear upon the name of the Swordmaster,” Frederick declared. “I will do everything in my power to prevent your sword from cutting down my overly diligent disciple. And to be frank, I’m curious. If, as you say, they’ve rewound time countless times to get here, doesn’t that make you wonder what’s about to happen? Surely, it won’t be anything ordinary.”

As he spoke, Frederick’s blade glowed with a brilliant blue light.