The soldier could no longer move his right hand, which left him unable to balance himself. His left-handed swordsmanship was also lacking, and his battered body was at its limit.

It took only two exchanges for the pillar sword to drive straight through his chest.

“Ha… Shit.” The soldier stood there, looked down, then glanced up at the Sharpie. “Fuck you!”

As he spat those words, the left-handed slash he had calculated and launched in advance landed. The blade cracked, opening the first bleeding wound on the Glowing Blue Sharpie’s wrist.

The soldier had always planned to do this. In his injured state, it was the only thing his body could manage.

If only the Sharpie would let go of its sword, he thought in his final moments. I’d grab it and run as far as I could.

The Sharpie roared in pain and flung the soldier off its pillar sword, sending his body...