“Who are you?!” Abraham shouted out and furrowed his eyebrows. All over, fighting slowly ceased as everyone realized that someone disgustingly powerful had just arrived on the scene, belonging to neither side.

‘How would you not know who he is… no, I shouldn’t assume that everyone has the amount of information Scarlett has,’ John thought and realized how every single puzzle piece fit together at that moment. “Did you kill Imerella, Sigmund?”

“Did you just say Sigmund?” Evidently, the president had no idea what the black swordsman looked like until now, but his name must have reached him. The older man’s eyes wandered over Sigmund, over his entire equipment, the item forms of his elementals. What John had realized the second the Contender had made his appearance now dawned on Abraham. “No…”

Neither John nor Abraham had killed Imerella. Immense elemental destruction, covering five out of six elements, with the notable missing of light, all of these things could easily be applied to John. They were just as fitting, if not even more so, of Sigmund. Nevertheless, the Gamer had to know. “Did you kill Imerella?” he asked again.

“Imerella?” the black swordsman rolled his neck, obviously bored by this conversation. “Should that name tell me something?”

“Earlier today, did you raze a fortress to the ground?!” John raised his voice into an accusatory tone.

“Ah, yes, that,” Sigmund made a displeased face as if he had just remembered that time he had stepped into a turd. “I ran out of strong enemies, so I thought: maybe I need to fight an army to have a proper challenge.” As always, when he said that word, it echoed with the same power as an incantation. “Aside from that one water woman, they were basically flies… I killed them without even noticing it. What an utter waste of my time.”

“You… you…” Abraham was shocked and for obvious reasons. Not that John could say he felt any different. There had been the lingering suspicion that there was more to this affair, but he had still been convinced that Abraham had been the one to clobber this whole scheme together. “What do you stand to gain from pushing my guild into civil war?”

“Civil war?” Sigmund looked utterly confused. “There was a civil war looming? I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. All I want to do is fight an army, just my luck that you had already assembled it by the time I got here.” The black swordsman grinned widely. “I saw you fight each other. Man, I would have jumped right in and spared you the few lives you could use trying to stop me.” The edge of his blade tapped against his pauldron. “Sam insisted I let her teleport out that Metra girl first. I let her have her wish and now…” The Contender gestured around. “Now this barrier is in total lockdown. Neither you nor I can leave for the next ten minutes! Who dies, all of you or all of me?! ISN’T THIS GETTING YOU EXCITED?!”

John couldn’t believe any of this. The death that had tipped this conflict over into open war had been nothing but Sigmund being bored? Imerella hadn’t even be sacrificed to any higher purpose, no, her life was just a pebble the black swordsman had kicked off the road. What had been respect of each other’s competence had turned the Gamer and Abraham to violence as they saw in the act the schemes of the other coming to fruition.

What a ridiculous conclusion. Never had John felt more like the Abyss was stirring around him than at this realization. Chances were the reason why none of the Primarch level individuals had ever answered him was because Sigmund had killed them all. How much stronger was he than last time? Could they even beat him?

Not a thing they could think about as Sigmund had let them know, this was a battle they couldn’t flee from. “YOU ABSOLUTE BASTAAAARD!” the bellowing scream of a chimeric man galloping and then jumping on his beastly limbs rung out over the entire battlefield. Terkal charged straight at Sigmund, who readied his sword.

“FINALLY WE ARE DONE WITH ALL OF THIS TALKING!” the black swordsman met the scream in kind. He took a step back, the long claws of Terkal’s bearpaws flying by his face. A second wild strike came for the black swordsman, dodging to the side with an arching step that rotated around his axis. His massive sword, Tietan, was lifted off his shoulder, cut through the air.

“No!” John cried out, trying to move the Mandala Sphere in the way, but he was far too slow. With relentless force and supernatural sharpness, the black blade cut through muscle, sinew and bone, coming out of Terkal’s body on the opposite side of his ribcage. Immediately lifeless, the general fell to the ground as separated arms and bloody remains.

A second of silence, then panic. ‘If he can defeat a general in one attack, what can he do to us?!’ that must have been the question on everybody’s mind as they tried desperately to get away. Any attempt by either side to leave the barrier was met with failure, the item Sigmund had used ensuring that. Then they simply tried to run, hide, anywhere. The combined forces that had just fought each other now taking to flight together.

Before John could even fully realize the death or think about what to do next, Sigmund was already on the move again. A massive leap carried him across the moderately large lawn. “WHAT’RE YOU COWARDS DOING?!” he shouted, instantly executing three people with his landing alone, one crushed under his armoured boots, the other two by one arm each. Ramming his sword into the earth, he created a massive wall of stone that blocked the path for the rest. “I told you, I want to fight an army,” Sigmund growled, pulling his sword from the ground and pointing it at the herd of fearful humans. “You can either give me what I wish or die trying to deny me.”

Once more, the average soldiers hesitated. Sigmund simply waited for them to harden their resolve and in this opened himself up. A barrage of attacks hit him from behind. Slicing winds blew and a raging inferno of grey and gold flames combined into a massive tornado of searing heat. Shards of mana flew in and hit the massive man inside, blasts of light followed, as Aclysia, Abraham and Beatrice moved in together. Differences were naturally put aside and there was no time for words of agreement.

With an overpowering swing of his sword, that pressed the blades of grass to the floor, Sigmund dispersed the firestorm around him. John breathed in with hope; as shallow as it was, there was single cut on the black swordsman’s face and his armour looked slightly damaged. If they could hurt him, there was a chance to win.

The trio had now entered melee range and Sigmund grinned widely, “Finally, battle!” and swung his sword in a long arch in front of him. It crashed into Abraham, who visibly deflated as his magic kept him from being harmed even by this blade. At least that was the purpose, but the strength of the attack was more than he could take. As the president was pushed along the trajectory of the swing, the sword burrowed halfway into his raised forearms.

Even that little bit helped, as it slowed the movement enough for Beatrice and Aclysia to shower Sigmund in attacks. Chinks of his armour fell off, splintered like stone, while he avoided any attacks to his face.

Raising his arm in an attempt to counter, Sigmund lost his balance when he was assaulted by weak spells. Individually harmless, but in their sheer number like a swarm of angry bees, the normal soldiers had accepted that there was no getting away and hoped that, perhaps, with the help of those stronger people they could actually fall this giant.

With an ecstatic cackle, Sigmund attempted to assault the weaker army men first. Two steps he took, then a white light under his feet beckoned him back. Master’s Shield affected the black swordsman like anyone else and he answered its call by turning his massive weapon in his hand and ramming it behind himself.

It skewered through the chasing maid, two blades exiting on her back before Sigmund whirled around and catapulted her away. He set after her, as the compelling effect was still active. Aclysia landed on her feet and just ran. For a few more seconds, she would keep him occupied. Seconds John used to hurry over to Abraham. The second he arrived, Undine changed out of her glove form and began healing him.

“What is even happening?” the president allowed himself a grumble as his skin closed. The healing he received doubled up as a source of his ability to trigger, not that there wasn’t ample mana getting spent every second to refuel his muscles with.

“Listen,” John made it quick, “I have a plan. I have a spell I can only use once but it will deal massive damage. It’s difficult to aim, however, so I need your help at immobilizing him. I don’t care how you do it, just help with that.”

“…Alright.” It clearly annoyed Abraham that he was taking orders from the much younger person he was still antagonistic towards. At the same time, it seemed liked the president knew that he had made enough bad decisions in relation to the Gamer in the past weeks and especially today. “I’ll be able to handle one arm!”

That was more than John had actually expected. Everything indicated that Sigmund had only gotten stronger since they had fought in New York City, a terrifying prospect. There was no way to know exactly how much stronger, since he managed no successful Observe this or last time, but the way he slapped Aclysia around who at least managed to block every now and again last time wasn’t particularly promising.

Abraham was fully healed and immediately darted off. With worry, John saw his girlfriend charge into the melee as well. Stopping her wasn’t an option in their current situation, but seeing her get into that battle still filled him with worry. Just as she wore a hardened expression, he had to push these feelings aside and look at this battle with stoic pragmatism. Undine wrapped herself around his hand again.

There were two options, either fight until the time ran out or defeat Sigmund. If what the black swordsman had said was true, they only had to survive for another eight minutes. Eight minutes were an eternity in a battle of their level, however. They had to at least cripple Sigmund or else there was no way to get this done without further losses.

John ground his teeth. In a situation like this, all he could do was save his mana and scheme. The Mandala Sphere flew high up in the air and provided him with a steady flow of information. Sylph couldn’t, as her jagged movements were hard for John to analyse.

Zapping Sigmund with a massive lightning strike, the air spirit quickly jumped back. The effect forcing the giant to attack Aclysia had run out, and a single strike from the True Death enchanted blade and the green-haired fairy would be gone forever. In a situation like this, it would be the best to have one strong elemental that wouldn’t die as quickly.

‘Keep your distance, Sylph,’ John instructed, ‘don’t enter his attack range under any circumstances. Gnome, Salamander, Siena, come here and fuse with Stirwin. We need another person that can at least put some Strength against his.’

As they hurried over to him to follow his order, John watched as the life bars on his Artificial Spirits were decreased dangerously strike by strike. Their heavy and hard metal bodies were useful in this fight, but Sigmund had the power to tear into them with his mithril blade. Beatrice’s health went down to below half as a diagonal strike cut her open from shoulder to the side of her ribcage. A bloodless wound that closed soon, but damage was done regardless.

‘Aclysia, use Cutting Flurry now!’ John instructed hastily as Sigmund went to double up on the attack. He was counting the seconds between each of the black swordsman’s strike, always anticipating that one extra powerful effect. It was fortunate that their enemy’s wind elemental had blabbered out that she was reinforcing strikes every now and again. Although John hadn’t worked out the exact recharge time yet, that Sigmund got more eager to move in aggressively whenever it was about to happen was all he needed this time around.

Obeying him immediately, Aclysia executed her three hit attack. In this, she didn’t actually aim to hurt Sigmund, just at his sword arm. The first two attacks were quickly executed and knocked Tietan off its course. Rather than cleave Beatrice straight in two, the reinforced strike only hit the ground. A shockwave sliced through the dirt way past the tip of the blade.

Sigmund attempted to pull his weapon back up, but the third strike of cutting flurry had Marath meet its sister blade in the clear singing sound of two mithril blades clashing. “NOW, GET HIM!” Abraham shouted and everyone close enough seized the moment. Chemilia and Ted stroke together at one of Sigmund’s legs, which gave in at the knee. The retaliation of his mailed fist was stopped by the president himself jumping in the way. Groaning, sharp plate segments burrowing past his defences, Abraham caught it successfully. “I said I’ll take one arm,” he growled and clinged on as tightly as he could.

Weaker fighters showered Sigmund in light damage. Rave knocked him over the head with a blasting punch that sent a shockwave out on the other side. Beatrice finally attempted to end this fight, thrusting her spear at the swordsman’s head while he was defenceless.

Her attack came to a sudden stop between Sigmund’s blood-stained teeth. The contender grinned, the leaf shaped blade stuck, and wrestled the weapon from her with a sudden motion. That he caused a deep cut into his own cheek in the process didn’t bother him whatsoever. With raw, brutal strength, he finally ripped his weapon upwards again and fought onto his feet.

Hacking and slashing at anything around him, he turned all those too slow to dodge into mincemeat. Ted landed on his feet after having jumped back, assuming a martial arts stance. Both fists should have been raised, but there was only one. When he noticed that his left arm was cut down to a stump below the elbow, he turned pale from shock and pain.

“You bastard!” Chemilia shouted as she supported her husband, keeping him from falling over.

“Bastard, weakling, trash, ugly, disgusting, I have heard all and every of these words. I don’t care about any of your insults.” Sigmund’s single eye spelled out the truth of his words, glowing with elemental power as he pulled back his sword. There was an empty two metre radius around where there was nothing but blood. Everyone kept their distance, waiting for the next action. “NONE OF IT MATTERS, BECAUSE I AM STRONG!”

He suddenly lunged forwards at the couple, a second and much more lethal attempt at killing them. Doubtlessly he would have succeeded, were it not for the floor under him suddenly turning liquid and glowing with immense heat. A pool of lava, created by the Combination elemental joining the battle. “Does your self-serving arrogance know no limits?!” the amazon-like lava elemental asked.

“The limit is where somebody manages to stop me!” Sigmund retorted catching his fall successfully. “Until then, I will fight, I will kill and I will win with these powers that I had to fight, kill and win for! This world is just the sandbox in which the strong get to play by their rules!”

‘This fucking monster,’ John thought as the black swordsman moved in the lava as if it was simple mud. It wasn’t a particularly large pool, but even higher level people in the Abyss should have seared their ankles down to charcoal by now. Instead, he and Smlere engaged in a normal battle. She hit to the right, he dodged away and hit her with an uppercut, throwing her backwards. Even the 4-type combination was weaker than the black swordsman.

He leapt after her with a wild laugh, seeing the greatest challenge around in her. At the moment he was at the height of his jump, John reached out to Sylph. ‘Now, hit him with all you have got!’ he instructed her, giving her all of his current mana.

‘Alrighty, here goes serious Sylph!’ the thunderstorm elemental mentally announced. The cracking of thunder could be heard as a large black cloud formed around her within a second. It condensed, her shape shining through in electric blue, bolts of energy dancing over the surface. It all gathered in a single spot and then unleashed as a massive beam of lightning. It struck the unprepared Sigmund, who had tunnel-vision on his target, and continued to do so. The cloud shrunk only slowly as continuous energy was unleashed into the black swordsman and it kept at it as he sailed to the ground, landing on all fours in front of the White House.

Nobody thought he was done with just that. As Sigmund tried to get back up, he was quickly surrounded. Smlere tackled him, preventing him from dodging anywhere, then Abraham grabbed his sword arm, repeating once more, “I meant it when I said I’ll take one arm, dammit!”

Together, Chemilia and Rave kept the other arm suspended. Beatrice arrived, her weapon back in her hand, and was the first to successfully penetrate the black armour, nailing Sigmund’s foot to the ground with her spear. Aclysia wasn’t quite quick enough, just behind John as he ran as fast as he could.

Desperately, the black swordsman struggled. John stopped his sprint less than a metre behind Sigmund. Pulling his sword arm as much as he could, the Contender still failed at wrestling himself out of Abraham’s grasp. Left hand raising to aim at his enemy’s face, the Gamer prepared his strongest attack. Feeling the threat of death, Sigmund screamed loud, successfully ripping his own left out of the arms of the two women.

The hand almost succeeded in slapping John’s hand to the side, but ultimately his range wasn’t big enough. Taking half a step backwards, the Gamer secured his aim and then unleashed the Mana Blade stored within Purgatory. Arcane light burned itself into John’s retina.

Spell Storage 3, an attribute that allowed him to store a spell with up to three times his maximum mana as its cost. It had been a while since he had been forced to use it. Almost 15’000 MP went into the Mana Blade, infused with three elements. Shadow, reducing its duration to a second but doubling the damage; wind, increasing physical damage dealt; and water, cleansing beneficial effects off the target.

The result was a an almost eight-metre-long, roughly sword shaped beam. Or it would have been unblocked. Although Sigmund had failed at stopping the attack, his arm had gotten in the way of it. In the span of one crawlingly slow second, John saw his attack clash against the open palm. Disintegrating it, from the plate to the bone, the energy was eating its way upwards. Hand, forearm, elbow, upper arm, it all vanished under the attack.

For a moment, John was hopeful. The attack fizzled out as quickly as it came, leaving behind a sorry rest of a shoulder, burned away evenly. When a Mana Blade was stopped in its creation, it behaved much like a highly concentrated beam of water clashing against a concrete wall. Even though it wasn’t his sword arm that had been annihilated, crippled this way, Sigmund should prove much more workable.

Instead, John heard a single word screamed from the black swordsman’s lungs.