Everything told me that I'd misheard. Badly.
Sword saint or not, she was clearly a commoner, and so spoke a language barely two steps evolved from cave paintings.
After all, there was simply no perceivable scenario in which she would admit, with a smile no less, to having committed tax evasion and burglary against the Royal Treasury! That was patently absurd. To commit even the lowest offence against the royal family was a high crime—and burglary could never be described as low.
Yes, of course.
This had been an exceptionally tiring few days. Clearly, the amount of words my delicate ears had been subjected to by criminals, nobility and criminal nobility had damaged my hearing faculties. And then there was the smell. It was awful. Cows and peasants everywhere.
I needed to rest. Desperately. The very first high-quality lodgings I came across, I would stay in. No more being fussy because I didn't like the colour of the roof tiles. As long as the room was fully furnished, came with ample amenities, a large bathtub and 24 hour room service, I was willing to stay even in Aquina.
For the sake of my health, I needed to be flexible with my standards—at least for one night. Tomorrow would adhere to a different standard, but for now, I could force myself to contend with the smell of this farmyard duchy.
Indeed, I was already used to it.
Even the worst of livestock barely surpassed the stench of what I'd suffered in the royal capital. That'd been appalling. Spilled food, vomit and the perfume of nobility. Though no blade struck me, I hadn't come out of that debacle unscathed. I was likely suffering from a host of ailments.
The biggest, of course, being the brain rot that was causing me to interpret entire sentences incorrectly.
And so, I offered a beautiful smile—all the while I gripped Starlight Grace in my hand.
“My apologies,” I said to the Snow Dancer. “You will have to repeat that. Slowly. I believe I grossly misheard you when you claimed to fail in your payment of taxes to the Royal Treasury, and that you also burgle from it.”
The elven woman took a few minute steps away, the sword twirling imposingly in her hand … just before she turned, kneeled and began drawing noughts and crosses into the snow with the tip.
I watched as she played a match against herself.
She lost. Somehow.
“Nope, that's what I said,” she replied with a carefree shrug.
And thus—my smile creaked.
“Could you perhaps reword it, at least, but with slightly less treason?”
“I'm not sure I can, since it wasn't treason. It was grand larceny. I checked.”
“The definition is highly flexible. And by that, I mean determined solely by me. What did you steal?”
Ophelia blinked at me in puzzlement.
I rolled my eyes.
“From the Royal Treasury.”
“Oh. That. I can't remember. It wasn't important. Probably a painting or something.”
“A painting? You stole a painting?”
I was appalled.
The Royal Treasury only held items of immense value. Treasures which preceded generations of our family. Any portrait held there would be worth more than all the gold crowns lying beneath it.
Ophelia thought for a moment.
“Old guy. Fluffy white beard. Wore a tea towel on his head.”
Suddenly, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“Describe the tea towel,” I said at once.
Ophelia hummed at her next game of noughts and crosses.
“Blue and white. Checkered. With a squiggly flower in the middle.”
My hand covered my mouth as I immediately recalled the oil painting in my mind.
The Man With The Tea Towel. A highly distinct work of modern impressionism, interpreting my great-great-grandfather, King Reginald the Bald at his prime.
It came all too easily to me.
After all … I was the one who painted it!
“That's what you stole?!”
“I think so. But hey, in my treasonous defence, it was the only thing I took. Honestly, I just wanted to peek around. I wasn't planning on grabbing anything. Maybe.”
My hand shook against my mouth.
I … I couldn't believe it … The Snow Dancer had stolen the first ever painting I'd deemed worthy enough to show my mother and father?! A cherished and storied part of my own personal history?!
I was absolutely horrified.
Why, I'd ordered it destroyed!
Who interceded?! That painting wasn't even worthy enough to be used as a carpet! That it was sent to the Royal Treasury is a humiliation! Who betrayed me?! Was it the servants?! The guards?! Heads would roll for this!
“Of all the riches laden in the Royal Treasury, you stole that?!”
“Yeah. Why? Was it expensive?”
“It … well, in a manner of speaking, yes! But why not a storied tiara?! An ancient tome of forbidden spells?! Why did you have to steal a work of sheer inadequacy which demonstrated only a naive ignorance of colours?!”
Ophelia shrugged.
“I liked the tea towel. It was cute.”
I almost vomited on the spot.
Painting that tea towel ensured I'd entered the world of fine art at its lowest rung! And now I knew that somewhere in the world, my crimes against modern impressionism were visible to all!
“What … What happened to it … ?” I asked, my voice dry as sand. “Did you … Did you sell it … is it now halfway across the continent … in a gallery to be mocked and scorned at … ?”
“That's very unlikely. After all, chopping wood for kindling is sort of a pain and I like the scent of oil canvases. You know, when they're on fire.”
I gasped.
“You burned the painting?!”
“Yeah.” She paused. “My bad.”
My entire body relaxed.
Despite the unrelenting chill in this frozen chamber, I felt nothing but searing relief burning inside me. Had I decided to drop down and roll against the snow, I was certain that billowing steam would engulf us all.
“You … You have committed a terrible and permanent … it was permanent, yes … ?”
“Really permanent. The charred ash isn't even there anymore.”
“Then, you've committed a permanent and irreversible crime against this kingdom! Why, without that ghastly painting, filled with anatomy errors and depth mistakes, the kingdom will be a happier, but culturally worse off place!”
For a moment, overwhelming gratitude filled my heart.
… And then I remembered she'd broken into the Royal Treasury, evaded taxes and assisted in the planned secession of Aquina!
“Snow Dancer,” I said, wiping off the lines of relief from my face. “I believe it's time you paid the Royal Treasury another visit.”
“Oh? But I've already looked inside. Has it changed much in the past few years?”
“Considerably. But you can assist in returning it to its former state.”
Indeed … it was time to calculate the vast financial repayment plan that the Snow Dancer would momentarily be signing in order to enter a life of crippling destitution and inescapable poverty.
“You will repay every crown that is owed,” I said, kneeling down beside her to join the new noughts and crosses game she'd marked in the snow. “You're in arrears. An unfortunate, but easily repairable set of circumstances.”
“Now that does sound serious. Also, are you noughts or crosses?”
“Crosses,” I said, as I promptly took the first turn. I poked a cross directly in the centre with my sword. “And fortunately for you, I have experience in dictating unreasonable financial repayment plans. I care not whether you are a sword saint evading taxes or a servant spilling wine. Your debt will be repaid. In full. And on time. The matter of you aiding the Duke will be handled separately.”
The Snow Dancer frowned as she battled out her next series of defensive noughts against my aggressive crosses. A draw.
She ruffled the snow and instantly drew a new game for us.
“Ouch. That's a lot to look forward to.”
“It is. But you may begin with your atonement to the Royal Treasury. I require a concise list of all your properties and assets.”
“I have a cottage, a pond and two ducks.”
I tapped my foot, waiting for her to continue.
“Yes? And?”
“That's it.”
“How could that be it? You're a sword saint, yet you live like a peasant in squalor?”
Ophelia looked genuinely offended. But not offended enough for me not to notice her cheating by scrubbing one of my crosses away. I clearly and deliberately remarked it with my sword.
“That cottage, pond and two ducks is all I need. It's homely and comfortable. Despite what everyone else says, I'm extremely content with what I have. So what if it's not big enough to raise a family in? It's big enough for friends. And I have lots of friends. In fact, I have too many. I have to keep my door locked all day, otherwise friends will just keep wandering inside.”
The elven woman suddenly began poking her noughts harder into the snow.
I peeled away ever so slightly.
“Y-Yes … well, be that as it may, you have more than your meagre … cottage to offer the Royal Treasury. You've failed to include the sizable asset in your hand.”
Ophelia lifted the tip of her sword away from the latest nought she drew.
“Oh, this thing?”
“Yes, that thing. I imagine an elven sword with a sapphire pommel will prove a suitable start to your long journey of reparations.”
“You think so? Well, in that case, sure! It's all yours.”
The Snow Dancer smiled—without moving, offering or presenting the sword in her hand for my collection.
“By that,” she continued, eyes brimming with enthusiasm, “I mean that you're going to have to take it from me, although I don't think that's very likely. I saw you dodge all those traps. You're fast. Really, really fast. And fast equals potential. And I love potential. But there's no way you could come close to beating someone like me in an actual fight. And the thought of murdering you is such a waste. I've waited literal years for someone interesting to pop up. So here's the deal! We make it exciting. You open that vault and I'll stop you like I'm … probably supposed to? Then, once you horribly and painfully lose, I'll recommend some teachers so you can have an epic training arc in the mountains! I'll throw in a few ominous appearances and string you along with a few high level goons. Once you're strong enough to beat me, we can have an actual showdown with my sword and A-rank title on the line. It'll be amazing!”
A long moment of silence passed.
Eventually, I offered a smile as pure as the snow around us—which given that it was now the tomb for dozens of frozen guards, wasn't pure in the slightest.
And that's fine.
Because someone who was now openly mocking me for the way I handled Aquina's slow, rusty traps deserved no less.
“Ohohoh … a truly colourful suggestion. However, I'd like to propose an alternative.”
“Oh? What's that?”
Casually pointing Starlight Grace across my lap, I aimed it directly at Ophelia's undefended side.
“[Spring Breeze].”
For a single moment, I saw a pair of blue eyes looking down at the gathering wind at the tip of my sword.
Pwooooomph.
That sight was replaced by an explosion of snow.
I coughed, my entire vision filled by a blanket of white as the very chamber groaned around me. A thick plume of snowfall instantly covered me, and yet even in that white haze, I could see the giant hole in the snowy ground where an elven sword saint now lay buried.
Towards the empty space where my opponent had just been kneeling, I raised my hand to my lips and cackled.
“Ohohohohohohohohhohoho! You fool! Did you believe me as prone to flights of fancy as you? While idly playing lockpicker and games in the snow, I was waiting for an opportunity to take you unawares!”
Naive!
Naturally, I was under no allusions as to the grave threat this, frankly, bizarre elven woman posed to the kingdom!
She was most certainly no wandering wisp here to assist me in breaking open Aquina's vault for fun! She had her own ploys and schemes, and acted under the orders of the very Duke whose castle I was now taxing!
Indeed, I was merely waiting, prowling, my intentions meticulously hidden like a panther in the shadows—and when I spied my chance, I seized it without hesitation!
Because what I failed to mention to the Snow Dancer was that she would have to commit to her financial repayment plan while in prison!
Ohohohohohohohoho!
“Ooooh ...”
To the side, I heard applause as Coppelia congratulated me from behind what was now a rather impressive snow castle.
“Such an underhanded attack!” she said, smiling broadly from above a parapet. “You waited until her eyes were sparkling! She never saw it coming!”
I smiled, accepting the compliment in full.
Why, it could be nothing else! I had just achieved a stunning victory over an A-rank sword saint in a single strike!
Was it chivalrous? No. Did I care? More no.
Because history was written by the victors, and as far as anyone outside this chamber was concerned, I'd defeated the Snow Dancer in honourable combat!
“Ohohohoho! Behold! Being A-rank clearly doesn't extend to superior intellect! Because even if she's greater at swordplay, I'm greater at machinations!”
Coppelia smiled lazily at me, her arms leaning atop the walls of her castle.
“The pen is mightier than the sword, huh?~”
“No, Coppelia. The sword is mightier than the sword which isn't facing the right direction … ohohohohoho!”
My obstacle removed, I pointed at the vault.
“The way now is clear! I've no doubt that the Snow Dancer was present for the sole purpose of hindering our passage, whatever her playfulness might suggest.”
“Probably,” replied my future handmaiden, who for some reason still wasn't moving from her castle. “I mean, if she did want to stop us, that'd be a problem. A-rank sword saints are something special.”
I quietly laughed, trying my best not to inhale the snow.
“Why, A-rank is merely a title. And as princess, I outrank them all. Should any foe present themselves to me, I'll dispatch them as readily as I would a jester at court!”
Coppelia nodded.
All the while, she started piling on another layer on her snow wall.
“The thing is, A-rank sword saints aren't just really tough. They're silly tough. I bet they could even take a [Ball Of Doom] to the face and still survive.”
“To the face?”
I was horrified.
I could punt fruit slimes over 100 metres! Why, even if someone survived being struck in the face, then no healer could repair the damage to their hair. It'd be permanently frizzled!
Nobody would want to live after that!
“Mmh. They're nuts that way.” Coppelia peeked over her wall. “Did you hit her in the face, by any chance?”
“No.”
“Well, then.”
I pursed my lips.
After which, I turned around to view the hole being covered by the falling snow.
Nothing could be seen.
I waited a few moments more, then happily began chalking defeating a sword saint on my grand list of achievements—all the way until an echoing voice dampened my sense of satisfaction.
“See the truth amidst the falling snow, burning steps beneath the stars.”
I swept Starlight Grace towards where the Snow Dancer had been blown away.
And then—
“Snow Helix Form, 5th Stance … [Butterfly Horizon].”
I heard the voice from behind me instead.
Glancing past my shoulder, I witnessed the beautiful smile of an elven sword saint as she blinked into existence, her expression filled with simple, childish, murderous joy. And then I saw the elven sword gleaming as it absorbed the falling snow.
The sword which was now sweeping towards my neck.
Everything told me that I'd misheard. Badly.
Sword saint or not, she was clearly a commoner, and so spoke a language barely two steps evolved from cave paintings.
After all, there was simply no perceivable scenario in which she would admit, with a smile no less, to having committed tax evasion and burglary against the Royal Treasury! That was patently absurd. To commit even the lowest offence against the royal family was a high crime—and burglary could never be described as low.
Yes, of course.
This had been an exceptionally tiring few days. Clearly, the amount of words my delicate ears had been subjected to by criminals, nobility and criminal nobility had damaged my hearing faculties. And then there was the smell. It was awful. Cows and peasants everywhere.
I needed to rest. Desperately. The very first high-quality lodgings I came across, I would stay in. No more being fussy because I didn't like the colour of the roof tiles. As long as the room was fully furnished, came with ample amenities, a large bathtub and 24 hour room service, I was willing to stay even in Aquina.
For the sake of my health, I needed to be flexible with my standards—at least for one night. Tomorrow would adhere to a different standard, but for now, I could force myself to contend with the smell of this farmyard duchy.
Indeed, I was already used to it.
Even the worst of livestock barely surpassed the stench of what I'd suffered in the royal capital. That'd been appalling. Spilled food, vomit and the perfume of nobility. Though no blade struck me, I hadn't come out of that debacle unscathed. I was likely suffering from a host of ailments.
The biggest, of course, being the brain rot that was causing me to interpret entire sentences incorrectly.
And so, I offered a beautiful smile—all the while I gripped Starlight Grace in my hand.
“My apologies,” I said to the Snow Dancer. “You will have to repeat that. Slowly. I believe I grossly misheard you when you claimed to fail in your payment of taxes to the Royal Treasury, and that you also burgle from it.”
The elven woman took a few minute steps away, the sword twirling imposingly in her hand … just before she turned, kneeled and began drawing noughts and crosses into the snow with the tip.
I watched as she played a match against herself.
She lost. Somehow.
“Nope, that's what I said,” she replied with a carefree shrug.
And thus—my smile creaked.
“Could you perhaps reword it, at least, but with slightly less treason?”
“I'm not sure I can, since it wasn't treason. It was grand larceny. I checked.”
“The definition is highly flexible. And by that, I mean determined solely by me. What did you steal?”
Ophelia blinked at me in puzzlement.
I rolled my eyes.
“From the Royal Treasury.”
“Oh. That. I can't remember. It wasn't important. Probably a painting or something.”
“A painting? You stole a painting?”
I was appalled.
The Royal Treasury only held items of immense value. Treasures which preceded generations of our family. Any portrait held there would be worth more than all the gold crowns lying beneath it.
Ophelia thought for a moment.
“Old guy. Fluffy white beard. Wore a tea towel on his head.”
Suddenly, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“Describe the tea towel,” I said at once.
Ophelia hummed at her next game of noughts and crosses.
“Blue and white. Checkered. With a squiggly flower in the middle.”
My hand covered my mouth as I immediately recalled the oil painting in my mind.
The Man With The Tea Towel. A highly distinct work of modern impressionism, interpreting my great-great-grandfather, King Reginald the Bald at his prime.
It came all too easily to me.
After all … I was the one who painted it!
“That's what you stole?!”
“I think so. But hey, in my treasonous defence, it was the only thing I took. Honestly, I just wanted to peek around. I wasn't planning on grabbing anything. Maybe.”
My hand shook against my mouth.
I … I couldn't believe it … The Snow Dancer had stolen the first ever painting I'd deemed worthy enough to show my mother and father?! A cherished and storied part of my own personal history?!
I was absolutely horrified.
Why, I'd ordered it destroyed!
Who interceded?! That painting wasn't even worthy enough to be used as a carpet! That it was sent to the Royal Treasury is a humiliation! Who betrayed me?! Was it the servants?! The guards?! Heads would roll for this!
“Of all the riches laden in the Royal Treasury, you stole that?!”
“Yeah. Why? Was it expensive?”
“It … well, in a manner of speaking, yes! But why not a storied tiara?! An ancient tome of forbidden spells?! Why did you have to steal a work of sheer inadequacy which demonstrated only a naive ignorance of colours?!”
Ophelia shrugged.
“I liked the tea towel. It was cute.”
I almost vomited on the spot.
Painting that tea towel ensured I'd entered the world of fine art at its lowest rung! And now I knew that somewhere in the world, my crimes against modern impressionism were visible to all!
“What … What happened to it … ?” I asked, my voice dry as sand. “Did you … Did you sell it … is it now halfway across the continent … in a gallery to be mocked and scorned at … ?”
“That's very unlikely. After all, chopping wood for kindling is sort of a pain and I like the scent of oil canvases. You know, when they're on fire.”
I gasped.
“You burned the painting?!”
“Yeah.” She paused. “My bad.”
My entire body relaxed.
Despite the unrelenting chill in this frozen chamber, I felt nothing but searing relief burning inside me. Had I decided to drop down and roll against the snow, I was certain that billowing steam would engulf us all.
“You … You have committed a terrible and permanent … it was permanent, yes … ?”
“Really permanent. The charred ash isn't even there anymore.”
“Then, you've committed a permanent and irreversible crime against this kingdom! Why, without that ghastly painting, filled with anatomy errors and depth mistakes, the kingdom will be a happier, but culturally worse off place!”
For a moment, overwhelming gratitude filled my heart.
… And then I remembered she'd broken into the Royal Treasury, evaded taxes and assisted in the planned secession of Aquina!
“Snow Dancer,” I said, wiping off the lines of relief from my face. “I believe it's time you paid the Royal Treasury another visit.”
“Oh? But I've already looked inside. Has it changed much in the past few years?”
“Considerably. But you can assist in returning it to its former state.”
Indeed … it was time to calculate the vast financial repayment plan that the Snow Dancer would momentarily be signing in order to enter a life of crippling destitution and inescapable poverty.
“You will repay every crown that is owed,” I said, kneeling down beside her to join the new noughts and crosses game she'd marked in the snow. “You're in arrears. An unfortunate, but easily repairable set of circumstances.”
“Now that does sound serious. Also, are you noughts or crosses?”
“Crosses,” I said, as I promptly took the first turn. I poked a cross directly in the centre with my sword. “And fortunately for you, I have experience in dictating unreasonable financial repayment plans. I care not whether you are a sword saint evading taxes or a servant spilling wine. Your debt will be repaid. In full. And on time. The matter of you aiding the Duke will be handled separately.”
The Snow Dancer frowned as she battled out her next series of defensive noughts against my aggressive crosses. A draw.
She ruffled the snow and instantly drew a new game for us.
“Ouch. That's a lot to look forward to.”
“It is. But you may begin with your atonement to the Royal Treasury. I require a concise list of all your properties and assets.”
“I have a cottage, a pond and two ducks.”
I tapped my foot, waiting for her to continue.
“Yes? And?”
“That's it.”
“How could that be it? You're a sword saint, yet you live like a peasant in squalor?”
Ophelia looked genuinely offended. But not offended enough for me not to notice her cheating by scrubbing one of my crosses away. I clearly and deliberately remarked it with my sword.
“That cottage, pond and two ducks is all I need. It's homely and comfortable. Despite what everyone else says, I'm extremely content with what I have. So what if it's not big enough to raise a family in? It's big enough for friends. And I have lots of friends. In fact, I have too many. I have to keep my door locked all day, otherwise friends will just keep wandering inside.”
The elven woman suddenly began poking her noughts harder into the snow.
I peeled away ever so slightly.
“Y-Yes … well, be that as it may, you have more than your meagre … cottage to offer the Royal Treasury. You've failed to include the sizable asset in your hand.”
Ophelia lifted the tip of her sword away from the latest nought she drew.
“Oh, this thing?”
“Yes, that thing. I imagine an elven sword with a sapphire pommel will prove a suitable start to your long journey of reparations.”
“You think so? Well, in that case, sure! It's all yours.”
The Snow Dancer smiled—without moving, offering or presenting the sword in her hand for my collection.
“By that,” she continued, eyes brimming with enthusiasm, “I mean that you're going to have to take it from me, although I don't think that's very likely. I saw you dodge all those traps. You're fast. Really, really fast. And fast equals potential. And I love potential. But there's no way you could come close to beating someone like me in an actual fight. And the thought of murdering you is such a waste. I've waited literal years for someone interesting to pop up. So here's the deal! We make it exciting. You open that vault and I'll stop you like I'm … probably supposed to? Then, once you horribly and painfully lose, I'll recommend some teachers so you can have an epic training arc in the mountains! I'll throw in a few ominous appearances and string you along with a few high level goons. Once you're strong enough to beat me, we can have an actual showdown with my sword and A-rank title on the line. It'll be amazing!”
A long moment of silence passed.
Eventually, I offered a smile as pure as the snow around us—which given that it was now the tomb for dozens of frozen guards, wasn't pure in the slightest.
And that's fine.
Because someone who was now openly mocking me for the way I handled Aquina's slow, rusty traps deserved no less.
“Ohohoh … a truly colourful suggestion. However, I'd like to propose an alternative.”
“Oh? What's that?”
Casually pointing Starlight Grace across my lap, I aimed it directly at Ophelia's undefended side.
“[Spring Breeze].”
For a single moment, I saw a pair of blue eyes looking down at the gathering wind at the tip of my sword.
Pwooooomph.
That sight was replaced by an explosion of snow.
I coughed, my entire vision filled by a blanket of white as the very chamber groaned around me. A thick plume of snowfall instantly covered me, and yet even in that white haze, I could see the giant hole in the snowy ground where an elven sword saint now lay buried.
Towards the empty space where my opponent had just been kneeling, I raised my hand to my lips and cackled.
“Ohohohohohohohohhohoho! You fool! Did you believe me as prone to flights of fancy as you? While idly playing lockpicker and games in the snow, I was waiting for an opportunity to take you unawares!”
Naive!
Naturally, I was under no allusions as to the grave threat this, frankly, bizarre elven woman posed to the kingdom!
She was most certainly no wandering wisp here to assist me in breaking open Aquina's vault for fun! She had her own ploys and schemes, and acted under the orders of the very Duke whose castle I was now taxing!
Indeed, I was merely waiting, prowling, my intentions meticulously hidden like a panther in the shadows—and when I spied my chance, I seized it without hesitation!
Because what I failed to mention to the Snow Dancer was that she would have to commit to her financial repayment plan while in prison!
Ohohohohohohohoho!
“Ooooh ...”
To the side, I heard applause as Coppelia congratulated me from behind what was now a rather impressive snow castle.
“Such an underhanded attack!” she said, smiling broadly from above a parapet. “You waited until her eyes were sparkling! She never saw it coming!”
I smiled, accepting the compliment in full.
Why, it could be nothing else! I had just achieved a stunning victory over an A-rank sword saint in a single strike!
Was it chivalrous? No. Did I care? More no.
Because history was written by the victors, and as far as anyone outside this chamber was concerned, I'd defeated the Snow Dancer in honourable combat!
“Ohohohoho! Behold! Being A-rank clearly doesn't extend to superior intellect! Because even if she's greater at swordplay, I'm greater at machinations!”
Coppelia smiled lazily at me, her arms leaning atop the walls of her castle.
“The pen is mightier than the sword, huh?~”
“No, Coppelia. The sword is mightier than the sword which isn't facing the right direction … ohohohohoho!”
My obstacle removed, I pointed at the vault.
“The way now is clear! I've no doubt that the Snow Dancer was present for the sole purpose of hindering our passage, whatever her playfulness might suggest.”
“Probably,” replied my future handmaiden, who for some reason still wasn't moving from her castle. “I mean, if she did want to stop us, that'd be a problem. A-rank sword saints are something special.”
I quietly laughed, trying my best not to inhale the snow.
“Why, A-rank is merely a title. And as princess, I outrank them all. Should any foe present themselves to me, I'll dispatch them as readily as I would a jester at court!”
Coppelia nodded.
All the while, she started piling on another layer on her snow wall.
“The thing is, A-rank sword saints aren't just really tough. They're silly tough. I bet they could even take a [Ball Of Doom] to the face and still survive.”
“To the face?”
I was horrified.
I could punt fruit slimes over 100 metres! Why, even if someone survived being struck in the face, then no healer could repair the damage to their hair. It'd be permanently frizzled!
Nobody would want to live after that!
“Mmh. They're nuts that way.” Coppelia peeked over her wall. “Did you hit her in the face, by any chance?”
“No.”
“Well, then.”
I pursed my lips.
After which, I turned around to view the hole being covered by the falling snow.
Nothing could be seen.
I waited a few moments more, then happily began chalking defeating a sword saint on my grand list of achievements—all the way until an echoing voice dampened my sense of satisfaction.
“See the truth amidst the falling snow, burning steps beneath the stars.”
I swept Starlight Grace towards where the Snow Dancer had been blown away.
And then—
“Snow Helix Form, 5th Stance … [Butterfly Horizon].”
I heard the voice from behind me instead.
Glancing past my shoulder, I witnessed the beautiful smile of an elven sword saint as she blinked into existence, her expression filled with simple, childish, murderous joy. And then I saw the elven sword gleaming as it absorbed the falling snow.
The sword which was now sweeping towards my neck.
