"Its name is Myōjin-giri Muramasa. It cuts through unseen things with ease, hence the plain name… but this damn thing strayed far off the path of the sword I aimed for, bouncing right back in my face."
Muramasa gestured with a flick of his chin toward the open shoji screen. Following his line of sight…
"—"
They were cut. Cleanly in two. A stone lantern, testing armor, a massive boulder—every single one of them had been severed straight down the middle.
"'That happened just from a light swing.' Somethin' absurd must've gotten mixed in while I was swingin' my hammer. Before it even reaches fate itself, it cleaves through stone and diamond alike. Flesh goes without sayin'. —It ain't about my skill. It's degraded into a 'blade that severs everything, no matter who swings it.' Somethin' like this… ain't a sword for humans to hold."
A sword inhabited by a god, severing all 'things with form.' A demon blade that cut through everything on its own. Muramasa spat upon it, calling it a failure.
"A tool is supposed to unite with its wielder to accomplish somethin'. A tool that doesn't need a wielder—no matter how incredible it is—is nothin' more than a failure. …Sorry to show off, but I can't hand this over to you. No, it's a 'cursed blade no one can handle.' A genuine outcast—far from a finished product, you can't even call it a piece of work. There's nothin' to do but throw it away. …Sorry for gettin' your hopes up."
As Muramasa apologized regretfully, Rikka frantically shook her head. I mean, to an ordinary person, it just looks amazing, you know!?
"So just being sharp and cutting things isn't enough, huh… That's tough… Ah, then what's that black sword?"
"—This one. It was born as a 'monster' forged under the pretext of pairin' with Dōjigiri Yasutsuna. A true 'demon blade' that even Enma of Hell would despise."
He quietly held it out toward her.
"I'll say it outright. 'I'll never be able to make a failure worse than this again.' Its very birth was a mistake—somethin' completely different from what I sought."
"Its very birth was… a mistake…?"
At his extraordinary words, Muramasa bore an expression as though he had swallowed a bitter bug, explaining the gruesome details.
"You know about kotodama, right? The power that dwells in words. Spoutin' off about matchin' the 'Five Swords Under Heaven' might've been the mistake. This thing ended up 'bearing the name of Muramasa.' The negative emotions built up and drawn in by the Muramasa mark… curses, harm, jealousy. It drank up all those terrible concepts. That's why the blade and the grip are lacquered black and stained blood-red. It's reduced to a hideous 'mass of Muramasa's malice' in the shape of a sword."
The concept of Muramasa. The very shape of the 'demon blade' woven by the Muramasa lineage throughout generations. That was this black sword—the other failure.
"This one's the exact opposite of Myōjin-giri. Or rather, it's more accurate to say it has no restraint. It devours everything with a form. It violates and severs everything without a form. It makes no distinction. Men, women, kids, adults, humans, monsters, gods—it devours them all equally. What's that stuff Servant flesh and blood is made of? …Ether, was it? Servants, gods, ancient beings formed by it—it cleaves through them, root and branch. Sharpness and everything else required of a sword, it has in absolute abundance. In that aspect alone, sure, it might pair with Dōjigiri. …However."
"That's…!"
She remembered. That effect. A weapon designed to unconditionally harm anything composed of Ether… The weapon from the Atlas Academy that Olga Marie had smiled bitterly about as she handed it over…
(He forged something identical to the Black Barrel!? Grandpa Muramasa is too incredible…!)
To forge a blade with the same effect as a world-ending weapon from the Atlas Academy just by looking at the Dōjigiri—she couldn't help but realize that Grandpa Muramasa's skill had stepped squarely into the realm of the divine.
Yet, he claimed the true horror of this sword did not lie there. The cursed origin that rendered it unfit for human hands lay in its core 'principle.'
"This thing is an indiscriminate brute, yet a picky gourmet. It claims good and evil don't matter, but then screams that it won't lean toward either. Cut a bad guy for the sake of good, and it demands your wife; commit evil, and it curses you to be struck down by good. It preaches equality for both malice and karma, devouring and severing them together. Malice gained the concept of 'cancellation'… That's the cursed blade that embodies Muramasa."
"Who said that…?"
"The sword itself. …It's too ridiculous to deal with. Parading around a twisted belief like it's somethin' special. If you swing this around, 'you'll bear the karma of havin' to cut down every single human like a Buddha.' …What was I thinkin', actin' like I understood anything…?"
Saying so, Muramasa raised his hammer high.
"Wait!? What are you gonna do, Grandpa!"
"Is there any question? I'm smashing it. This is a top-tier cursed blade—a mutation spawned by Muramasa. Somethin' like this shouldn't exist in this world."
"Wait, wait!"
Setting aside its sharpness and performance, Rikka tried to stop him from rejecting his own creation so utterly.
"Let go, Rikka! A man's got to settle his own messes! It was my arrogant mistake to think I could match the Five Swords Under Heaven. Breakin' it before it hits the world is just proper manners!"
"Can nobody use it!?"
"Nobody should use it! This thing is a monster in the shape of a sword that will eventually devour and destroy everything. If I don't snap it here, it'll leave a scar—"
"Then I'll use it!!"
"—What did you say?"
"I don't want to waste what Grandpa made—I don't want to waste your kindness! Besides…"
She couldn't just leave it alone after hearing it 'shouldn't have been born.' Even if it was steeped in malice, even if it was the incarnation of grudges and rancor—now that it was born, it couldn't be erased. And above all, now that she knew about it, she didn't want to erase it.
"If it's going to stand beside the grand champions of East and West… nothing less than an extraordinary demon blade forged by Grandpa Muramasa would match! A famous blade known to all, paired with a demon blade known only to you and me! That's absolutely perfect for what I'm trying to do!"
With those words, she immediately grabbed the demon blade. A sinister, heavy sensation—like gripping darkness itself—surged into her hands.
"H-Hey, you idiot! No, don't touch it! That thing is pure filth! Didn't I tell you it's a hopeless blade that swallowed up our malice!? A proper human shouldn't be touchin' that!"
At Grandpa Muramasa's shouting, Rikka smiled recklessly.
"Then I'm totally fine. I'm not a proper human anymore, and I'm definitely not a good person."
"The hell do you mean…?"
"..."
Slowly, she began to draw the sword from its scabbard. It offered fierce resistance, tight and stubborn as if the sheath and blade were fused together. She dragged it out by sheer physical force. If it wouldn't come out quietly, fine—she'd rip it out by force!
"—─────!!!"
"Guh…!"
A metallic screech, followed by a piercing shriek, curses, demonic wails, and death rattles. A horrific, deafening roar echoed out—threatening to violate her mind and sever the tail of her very soul—resisting Rikka with everything it had as she forced it free.
"Stop, you damn fool…! You'll lose your mind…!"
"Bring it on…!!"
She didn't cover her ears. Pouring even more strength into the blade, she forced the draw to continue.
A logic that cancels out both good and evil… a principle no one can swing…
Yes, then it was perfect. The good everyone carried to save the world, and the evil that was herself—if it wanted both, then it could eat her soul.
To save the world, she would cut down every single enemy with her own hands. If that wasn't enough, it could gorge itself on her soul.
Cut down the person I hold dear? …Fine. Be happy, nameless demon blade. If you become mine, that wish will come true.
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