The so-called strong inherently pursued absolute power, absolute will, and absolute self-actualization. They were never bound by worldly morals or rules.
Only the weak used morality to sugarcoat their own frailty and attempted to use it to restrict the freedom of the strong.
But the truly strong had no need to abide by the moral codes established by the weak.
Because strength itself was truth.
As long as he was strong enough, he could do whatever he pleased without being swayed by anyone else's will.
As long as he was strong enough, he could define what justice was, and what truth was.
As long as he was strong enough, his justice would be the only correct justice.
He remembered now.
The core motivation behind every time he swung his sword stemmed from the insatiable "unease" buried deep within his heart.
Afraid of being swallowed by an unfamiliar world, he swung his sword.
Afraid of being forgotten and abandoned by Alfia, of being deemed useless, he swung his sword.
Afraid that his cherished Furina and Robin would be hurt, afraid he wouldn't be able to protect the people he wanted to protect, he swung his sword.
Now, he was afraid of losing the beautiful things he already possessed, so he swung his sword even more frantically.
Everything he did was to grant himself "peace of mind."
And the only path to attaining true, eternal "peace of mind" was to become an existence above all else, an unshakable entity—the absolute strongest.
So, why did he wield a sword?
He understood now.
He swung his sword to become the strongest.
He swung his sword to give himself peace of mind.
The moment this thought fully crystallized in his mind, his "Mind" finally achieved an unprecedented harmony and unity with his "Body" and "Technique."
In the next second, acting almost entirely on bodily instinct, he activated his enhancement skill.
[Alpha Inforce]!
In that split second, it was as if he had reclaimed the countless hours of sword swinging from his past; all the experience, all the epiphanies, all the strength were infinitely layered, compressed, and focused into this exact moment.
The wooden sword in his hand thrummed.
He stepped forward and swung what looked like a perfectly ordinary strike.
A blinding, dazzling flash of the purest white light burst from the tip of his wooden sword.
The white light tore itself from the blade, transforming into a crescent-shaped flying slash. Traveling at a terrifying, supersonic speed, it howled past Astrea.
Accompanied by a piercing hum that tore through the atmosphere, the blade of light skimmed the training ground floor, carving a horrifying gash over a dozen meters long before violently crashing into the far wall, leaving behind a shocking, gaping crater.
The entire training ground fell dead silent.
Cecil Brakelisa, Daphne Lauros, Cassandra Illion... every girl watching the spar stared dumbfounded at the slash mark that looked like it could cleave the very earth in two, their minds completely blank.
"Th-That wasn't magic, right?" Daphne's voice trembled slightly.
They were one hundred percent certain that Aiden hadn't chanted anything just now, nor were there any signs of mana flowing around his body.
He had simply swung his sword.
An ordinary wooden sword.
Yet this sword light was enough to make every sword-wielding adventurer in Orario question their life choices.
They had never imagined, nor had they ever heard of, a swordsman capable of unleashing a terrifying attack that rivaled a magical artillery bombardment.
Amidst the shocked gazes of the onlookers, Astrea broke into a brilliant, genuinely radiant smile.
He had done it.
Mind, Body, Technique. The holy trinity.
Under her guidance, the boy before her had finally shattered his mortal shackles. He no longer needed to rely on the crutch of magic; instead, relying purely on his own strength, technique, and willpower, he had unleashed the ultimate technique countless swordsmen dreamed of—the Lumina Slash.
From this moment on, Aiden had stepped into the realm belonging to the heroes who once dominated Orario.
He was now a hero candidate worthy of the name.
The thought that Aiden had truly stepped into the realm of heroes under her influence—that overwhelming sense of accomplishment from personally carving a rough stone into a peerless jewel—made Astrea's heart pound uncontrollably.
She clutched her wildly heaving chest, feeling a burning, unprecedented emotion welling up inside her.
I think... I'm in love. She directed her gaze subconsciously toward the second-floor balcony of the Palais Mermonia.
There, Furina was leaning over the railing, staring at the terrifying slash on the training ground with the exact same dumbstruck expression.
A tiny glint of provocation and pride—one she didn't even notice herself—flashed through Astrea's eyes.
Can you do this, Furina?
Even though Aiden isn't in my Familia, I was the one who guided him step by step. I personally taught him swordsmanship, personally helped him see his own desires, and ultimately helped him achieve the balance of mind, body, and technique to step into the realm of the Lumina Slash.
This peerless sense of achievement made Astrea feel like she was drowning in it.
Not to mention... Aiden's desire to become the "strongest" and his sense of justice showed her a brand-new hope for saving this lower world.
He wanted to be the strongest?
Then taking a detour to slay the One-Eyed Black Dragon entrenched at the end of the world shouldn't be a problem, right?
After all, only by defeating the Black Dragon would he be acknowledged by this world as the true... strongest.
Seven days passed like a fleeting shadow.
For those seven days, Aiden's figure was never absent from the Palais Mermonia's training grounds.
Under the unreserved teaching and sparring of a god-tier sword instructor like Astrea, he underwent a complete rebirth, much like refined steel repeatedly tempered in raging fire and freezing ice.
The raw power he had gained from leveling up to Level 4, which had initially been difficult to control, now answered to him as easily as his own fingers, retracting and releasing at will.
More importantly, through the Goddess's daily instruction and spiritual questioning, he had finally caught a glimpse of the door named "Mind," achieving the perfect unity of "Mind, Body, and Technique" that supposedly only heroes could reach.
When his instincts had driven him to unleash that pure white Lumina Slash that tore the earth asunder, he knew it was time to test his results.
Thus, on the morning of the eighth day, while most of the residents in the Palais Mermonia were still deep in sleep, Aiden quietly left the resplendent palace alone, once again setting foot on the stone-paved path toward the Babel Tower.
He had no companions, no backup; just himself and the sword resting at his waist.
His goal was crystal clear—the 17th Floor of the Dungeon.
Down there lay a powerful foe that had once left him in a pathetic state, a formidable enemy that had pushed him to the brink of death back when he was only Level 3.
He was going to a delayed deathmatch, aiming to use a hearty, exhilarating victory to draw a perfect full stop to his past weakness.
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