I Was a Sword When I Reincarnated (WN)

Hilt, who remains solidified in a position with his palm bottom protruding, stares at Fran, who walks like a zombie. On his face, he had a stunned look.

Probably because I couldn't finish it off in the depths. The divine attribute is, in a sense, a special attack. Especially if it was an interpersonal battle with inferior vitality than a warcraft, you must have thought you could win if you hit it.

But we weren't just standing there. Fran was trying to mitigate the damage by jumping slightly back, and I weakened Hilt's momentum by activating the build-up.

Just a few things, but I guess that saved Fran's life.

I continue to cure witchcraft, but Fran's consciousness remains hazy. Awakening and Flashing Hua Xun Thunder had already been solved. It seems the damage was too great to sustain.

A fighting spirit that you won't lose even in this state is pounding and moving its body.

"In the end, it's scary..."

His breath is rough, and his hilt squeaks. Even from a first-rate adventurer's hilt, I guess Fran now deserves admiration.

"But I can't lose, of...!

But the hilt doesn't move. Precisely, it's moving a little bit. It's a slow motion, as if watching it in slow playback as well.

Apparently, Deep Righteous recoil remains. The movement was slow, and the immense temper that was wrapped around him lurked the ringing.

It's not hard to beat Hilt right now. All I have to do is storm and attack alone. It consumes magic by fierce warfare, but in addition to the mindfulness catapult, I can handle about one shot of Kannakamui.

But I didn't think I'd do that.

Win or lose, Fran should decide this game.

……

……

Hilt, who is fully inclined to breathe, and Fran, who comes forward with shaking left and right but unconstrained footsteps.

Above the stage, it's incredibly quiet.

The first major move was made by Hilt.

Still pale, but my breath has calmed down somewhat. Until now, my breath has been rough enough to think that I will hyperventilate, about after a full dash.

"Ha... Ha..."

Hilt pointing his gently protruding left palm this way, exhaling in bitterness. Drop your hips and take a wider stance.

It didn't look like an attack, it looked like a setup with counters and receptions on the subject. If you look closely, Hilt's feet are shaking lightly. Maybe he doesn't even have the power to rush over here anymore.

As always, Fran approaches the hilt in a fuzzy and uncertain foothold.

As my distance narrowed, suddenly a change happened to me.

"Become...?

My morphological deformity has been activated. From sword to sword, he changes his appearance.

I was surprised because it wasn't what I intended. But it wasn't forced to be manipulated.

Fran's will poured into me, my body very naturally accepted the intention, and as a result activated the morphological deformation.

It is like that.

After deformation, I realized that I activated my skills.

It feels strange. It may be similar to when it was used by a sword-giving franc before, but I feel more united than then.

Maybe it's because when you're being wielded by a franc in a sword deification state, it's being used by someone on the grid with an overwhelming skill.

But now I can see that Fran needs me. Fight together, not subordinate. As a sword and user, something like bond was felt.

(Shit... Shit...)

"Fran! You noticed that?

(… Let's …… and…)

No. Fran's consciousness is still unclear. And yet - no, that's why? Unconsciously, I was probably doing my best.

Even at a time like this, there is a slight joy in me. Even if he wasn't conscious, he relied on me. As a partner, as a master.

I was glad to hear that.

"Oh, let's win!

(...... mmm......)

Are you hearing my words or not? It seemed like Fran moved his neck to snort slightly.

As always, that walk is slow.

10 seconds. 20 seconds.

But a severely painful time to feel more than that. I can see the audience breathing, riding themselves out and looking at this one.

Another five seconds had passed and the distance between Fran and Hilt had shrunk to five meters left.

"......"

Fran with an uncertain focus, vague eyes as to where she was looking, accidentally looked at Hilt. At the same time, its body moves.

Move, slash. That's all it is.

However, it was a move that was too fast, too sharp, too dodgy.

Even I felt like I had slashed Hilt's flesh and bones, so much so that I realized Fran attacked him.

The identity of Fran's sudden acceleration is his magic release. With all body power removed, use no muscle strength and use the recoil of magic release to move the body.

I don't just push my back. Shake your arms up by releasing magic from your elbows, and shake your arms down by releasing magic from your shoulders. There were other magic releases from behind his knees, hips, heels, etc. We did them almost simultaneously in an instant.

What you're doing is similar to Hilt's Garuda, but Fran would have been more complicated and advanced. It was an act that Corberto unleashed against Sibula, arguably the complete form of an incomplete Special Attack.

The opponent's muscles, breathing, or slight movement of the center of gravity. Hilt could not be perceived because he was a master accustomed to seeing through and responding to such things.

Of course, it's a big deal that Fran's magic cover was perfect.

Seen in this tournament, it was a blow that could be described as a collection of things learned.

The linear speed itself is not so great. Flashing Hua Xun Thunder would be faster overwhelmingly. Still, it was a speed that I didn't think of as a half-dead human being, and an ambush that was no more in terms of poking at the void.

Hilt wasn't responding at all. He stares back at Fran's indifferent eyes with the eye that he doesn't know what happened.

Yeah, I think I finally realize I've been slashed now. I opened my mouth with a pocan.

"Huh?"

Such a voice emanates from Hilt's mouth, and blood erupts from its body late.

The unwinding light wrapped around the body of the falling hilt.

"Ah, it's the final with all that intense fighting going on, but the settlement was incredibly quiet ah! The winner was the weak crown, 13! Kuri, Fran the Black Cat Clan! No complaints! No complaints! It's the birth of the youngest winner ever!

A commentator's voice sounds more excited than ever. They're tense enough to make the words a little suspicious.

I was listening to the words in a strange way as if I was dreaming.