Journey to Planar World

The sky above the battlefield was shrouded in black mist, mixed with the sparks of clashing weapons. Screams of pain echoed amidst the clanging of metal, creating a symphony of chaos that shook the ground.

In the midst of the brutal battle, two factions fought mercilessly. One was a force wielding Elemental Waffe—contracted spirits transformed into weapons—dancing in the air with flashes of light. They moved swiftly, swinging weapons imbued with divine power, turning the land into ruin.

On the other side, the defending forces hid behind sturdy stone fortresses. They were not just passive shields—they retaliated fiercely, unleashing spirits that took various forms: fire dragons, stone giants, and winged shadows soaring through the sky to fend off the enemy’s attacks.

*BOOM!* *BOOM!* *BOOM!*

Explosions continued to echo in the air, accompanied by ripples of energy that shook the ground. The flashes of clashing swords created sparks of light, reflecting the unyielding determination of both sides.

However, the Elementalists and spirits fighting on the battlefield were merely pawns in a larger war. They were just sacrificial soldiers, tools to weaken the enemy’s defenses before the final blow was struck.

The true battle that would determine the outcome of the war was not taking place in this chaos.

Inside the grand fortress standing above the battlefield, in a corridor already stained red by the blood of countless soldiers, the real battle had reached its final stage.

There, amidst the scattered corpses, a girl walked unhurriedly. Her golden hair shimmered under the dim torchlight, seemingly unaffected by the darkness and destruction around her. Her slender hands tightly gripped a glowing sword, the Sacred Sword Severian, which emitted a soft silver light, as if refusing to be tainted by the brutality of war.

Her movements flowed like a dance. Each swing of her sword was a deadly work of art. Enemy spirits charging at her were mercilessly cut down, their bodies vanishing in a flash of holy light that seemed to reject their very existence.

Her body remained clean, not a single drop of blood staining her.

She was a lotus flower in the mud—pure, holy, and untouched by the brutality around her.

Yet, behind the grace of her movements, there was an undeniable firmness. Her hands never stopped. Her sword continued to dance, slashing, cutting, and thrusting with perfect precision.

Time lost its meaning in that corridor. No one knew how many enemies had fallen by her hand. No one could count how many spirits had been annihilated by the flashes of her sacred sword.

And in the end, this war would not be decided by those fighting on the battlefield.

The battle that would end it all was now unavoidable.

*Pu-chi!* *Pu-chi!* *Pu-chi!*

Defeating the last spirit blocking her path, the girl lowered her sword. Her breathing was steady, her steps firm as she walked through the now silent long corridor. The once magnificent stone walls were now stained with blood and the marks of battle. Yet, she paid no attention to them. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, toward the deepest part of the castle.

Each of her steps echoed in the silence, accompanied only by the faint flickering of torches, as if trembling at her presence. A chilling atmosphere crept through the air, but her heart remained resolute. There was no fear, no hesitation.

When she arrived at the spacious room, she stopped before the towering black throne in the center of the hall.

With both hands, she raised her Sacred sword, which radiated a silvery light in the darkness. The glow pierced through the shadows enveloping the room, illuminating the figure seated on the throne.

There, a man sat alone, his demeanor calm and unshakable.

Dark flames swirled around him, burning silently, consuming the light and forming a curtain that hid his face. Yet, even though his form was shrouded in shadow, there was no doubt about who he was.

The Demon King Solomon.

The first male Elementalist in history who had enslaved 72 spirits. With his unmatched power, he had brought destruction to entire continents, burned kingdoms, and plunged the world into an endless war.

But even facing the man known as the Demon King, the girl stood tall.

Her hands gripped the Sacred Sword tightly. Her presence here was destined. She had come not as a soldier, not as a fugitive, but as an executor of fate.

”Evil Demon King, in the name of the Elemental Lords and my Sacred Sword, perish.”

Her voice echoed, carrying a pressure that pierced the air. The holy light from her sword glowed brighter, as if responding to her command.

A strong wind blew, causing her golden hair to flutter like golden flames.

And at that moment—she lunged forward.

Her movement was like a flash of light piercing through the darkness.

On the blade of the sword she wielded, in the radiant language of spirits, was inscribed a name that emitted a silvery glow—Terminus Est.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

”—!?”

When he woke up, Charlie found himself in his soft bed.

The dream had felt so real. Every clang of swords, every splash of blood, and especially the golden-haired girl dancing amidst the corpses—it all felt so vivid, as if he had truly been there.

”Was that the past of the Sword Spirit...?”

In the Type-Moon world, a Master who forms a contract with a Heroic Spirit in the form of a Servant through the Holy Grail can see the Servant’s past memories in dreams. Meanwhile, in the Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dance world, Elementalists bound by contracts with spirits can also share dreams with each other.

So... that dream must have come from the Sword Spirit he had contracted.

”Areishia Idriss...”

Charlie recalled the golden-haired girl. Just a naive and innocent village girl, yet forced to fight for the world. Leading a war at such a young age—to him, it was a form of human savagery.

”Sigh...”

He let out a long sigh, a sense of disgust toward the people of that era bubbling up within him.

”How could they let a young girl bear such a heavy burden?”

”Hm?”

However, before his thoughts could delve deeper, something strange began to feel off.

There was something in his arms.

Soft, smooth, warm, and comforting.

A sensation so familiar, as if he had held something similar before.

For example, Dinda.

For example, Aishia.

With a quick motion, Charlie pulled the blanket aside.

And at that moment—the sight beneath the blanket unfolded before him.

”Hmm...”

A soft voice sounded, accompanied by a slow movement from the figure that had just slipped out of his embrace.

A petite girl with waist-length silvery-white hair sat up from his arms, rubbing her eyes with a sleepy expression. Her skin was as white as snow, her face smooth and beautiful, looking like a living porcelain doll.

’Thankfully, she’s not naked like in the original work.’

Seeing her wearing an old T-shirt, Charlie sighed in relief in his heart.

Indeed, he might have entered another world, but his modern instincts remained vigilant. For a moment, the image of the FBI breaking down the door flashed through his mind—”It’s the FBI! Open the Door!”—even though he knew the FBI didn’t exist in the Danmachi world.