He was a man who seemed utterly out of place with his surroundings. The man was leaning against a wall, munching on a green apple, the collar of his floral shirt stained with the amber hue of last night's whiskey. But it was this very same rakish, aimless youth who now beckoned to him with an air of complete naturalness, motioning for him to follow.
There was no reason for it, yet it was as if he knew Seiya would certainly come.
As he leaped lightly over the surrounding wall, he naturally crossed the fountain square and the courtyard, flitting past pointed-roof houses with blue walls and the deep green of the forest, arriving at a cliff near the Cagliari Bay.
It was still the time before dawn. From here, one could look out over the sparkling Cagliari Bay. The wrecks of yachts were piled up haphazardly near the shore, with the occasional white windsock fluttering from a broken mast. But these wrecks were swarming with seagulls, which would occasionally dive low, plunging into the waves to snatch up a fresh, tail-flapping sardine.
"Nice view, isn't it? I just found this treasure spot right after I got here. Heard about it from a kid who was fishing with a plastic water bottle," the man in the floral shirt said, sharing his treasured scenic spot with Seiya in a boastful tone. "From here, you can even see Oristano to the west. The coastline over there has barely been damaged at all. It's got a really nice, primitive beachcombing feel to it."
A pleasant coastline, translucent seas, isolated reefs, long sandy beaches, and caves. With his current eyesight, he could gaze even further. In the northeast of Sardinia, the mountains gradually sloped down to meet the Costa Smeralda, which was also the coast of Sardinia. Continuing west was Oristano, the place the man had mentioned.
He was still on Sardinia; he hadn't left. But watching the residents who were already up early preparing for work, he felt a measure of peace in his heart. Such a scene was the very reason a Saint fought.
"The meaning of life is different for everyone. Before I met Saint George, my greatest love was the sword. Practicing with the sword would make my heart calm and fill me with serenity," the man in the floral shirt said, turning his head to look at Seiya. "But now, although my loves are still the sword and the martial arts, they've changed a little."
Before he could even speak his next sentence, Seiya had already guessed it.
"I feel like we're the same kind of people. Born in this special era, we find joy in battle."
"You know, the last person who told me we were the same kind of people, and a friend, was Verethragna," Seiya replied.
"So what's he up to now?" the man in the floral shirt asked with a curiosity untainted by knowledge.
"Verethragna is the divine name of the Eastern war god I just defeated. Right now, he's probably in the annals of myth, waiting for his resurrection coin's loading bar to finish."
"Oh, that's awesome! Sounds really cool!" the golden-haired man said, giving a thumbs-up. "I have a god-friend I get along with just like that, too! His name is Saint George! How about we have a fight for our similar friends?"
If it had been any other Godslayer, any other magician or martial artist, they might have wondered why they had to fight, why they should suddenly fight precisely because of a similarity. But Seiya's line of thinking was evidently just as simple.
A fight didn't sound bad. So, let's fight.
"However, this place can no longer withstand a battle between two Godslayers. Should we find another place, or do you possess an Authority that can create a pocket-dimension battlefield, Sir Doni?"
"That's simple. We can just compete with pure martial skill. Speaking of which, it's been a long time since I've communicated with a friend through the martial arts."
Doni—the King of Swords, Salvatore Doni—casually broke a branch from a tree behind him. In his hand, it was instantly transformed into a sharp, silver-colored sword. Even with the empowerment of his Authority willingly undone, it was still a precious sword that could cut through iron as if it were mud.
Just as he was about to do the same and fashion a blade for his new friend, he saw his own hair stand up slightly.
It was Seiya. He simply spread his five fingers, and naturally controlled the iron sand underground to rise from the soil. The magnetization and ionization effects in the air naturally tempered it into a sharp blade equal to his opponent's.
Doni smiled. And after the smile came a silent chill.
He spun the hilt of his sword. As his blade flickered, he thrust straight forward, a silver light covering Seiya's vision like a spider's web.
This was just standard swordsmanship, mostly used for stage performances, but in Doni's hands, its edge was terrifyingly sharp. Seiya instinctively parried upwards. When the metals clashed, a crisp sound like cracking ice rang out. Doni's thrust was as fast as lightning, easily nicking Seiya's brow and leaving a white mark.
No mortal weapon, no matter how sharp, should have been able to cut Seiya's skin. But what if Doni was using his Silver Arm? Without giving Seiya a moment to think, the cold light flashed in his eyes again in the next instant. Seiya instantly realized his opponent's sword had already thrust before him. Doni's swordsmanship was truly at the pinnacle. The standard swordsmanship from before had just been a polite opening gambit. Now, the cold light had already locked onto the point between his eyebrows. But faster than Seiya's thoughts was his instinct.
Doni's thrust almost succeeded, but the air still rang with the explosive clash of metal on metal. The tip of the silver sword had struck metal hard—it was the part of Seiya's blade near the web of his hand. In this situation, he had somehow completely predicted the trajectory of the King of Swords' technique.
"A mind's eye? Guidance? Or prediction? Is this the effect of your new Authority?" Doni asked curiously.
But Seiya didn't answer. The battle was useful. Even though this was a simple contest, it was still forcing the new power within him to be mastered more quickly, to become a part of him.
In the next instant, Seiya and Doni vanished simultaneously. They charged at each other at extreme speed, the terrifying sonic boom impacting the cliffside. Sword light and human figures intertwined! In the end, it was Seiya who broke this losing situation, because he knew clearly that he could not compete with Doni in swordsmanship alone. So, he added a field he excelled in.
The moment Doni's smile appeared, Seiya stepped forward, thrusting his blade in a killing strike. The silver sword met the sharp edge of the blade. The weapons clashed, sparks flew with a thunderous roar, and both stood their ground, neither taking a step back. But they did not continue.
That single collision had shattered both weapons. And at that moment, the battle had finally returned to the close-quarters combat Seiya specialized in. Alright, my friend, time to make sure your neck gets no breathing room!
But in the end, Seiya stopped his advance, because the battle was over.
From behind them came the sound of orderly footsteps. Seiya looked back the way they came and saw twenty-odd silver GT cars blocking the road at the foot of the mountain. Men got out of the cars and, flanking a youth in a white suit, hurriedly came before them.
"Alliance Leader, you are being too reckless!" the man in the suit and gold-rimmed glasses said as he came before Doni.
"Andrea, my friend, you're too tense. I was just chatting with a new friend, deepening our bond," Doni said, casually draping an arm around the youth's shoulders, his spirits high.
The youth named Andrea had noticed Seiya opposite his Alliance Leader long before. After Doni spoke, he turned to Seiya and bowed, his posture as standard as that of a medieval nobleman. "A pleasure to meet you for the first time. You must be the Seventh Godslayer, Seiya. It is my honor to meet you here."
Seiya lowered his gaze. "You must be Andrea, known as the King's Steward. I hear you are one of the few Great Knights who can scold Doni to his face. It could be said that without you, Doni might only be a warrior, with none of the functions of the Alliance Leader of the Italian magical world."
In ancient times, such words would have been a malicious attack. But in a world where individual power reigned supreme, Seiya's words were simple praise.
As his voice fell, a red figure appeared in the distance. Erica had arrived.
After a simple exchange of greetings between both parties, they prepared to depart in different directions.
But suddenly, the King of Swords stopped and called out to the Saint, Seiya.
"Let's have a real match the next time we meet! I have a feeling that day isn't too far off!" the King of Swords shouted.
Seiya had a similar premonition, but given Verethragna's situation, he didn't give a clear response. He simply smiled, waved, and then turned to leave
_____
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