Creak.

Creakk.

My heart flinched slightly each time that faint noise rang out.
The noise came from the tip of the «black sword» yet to be
named. Somehow buried a cen into a tiny gap among the white
marble blocks that built up the outer wall of the Axiom Church’s
Central Cathedral.

My right hand that grasped the black sword’s grip was damp
with sweat, with my elbow and shoulder joints unable to bear
the weight, and threatening to let go even now. That was only
natural—the weight of two humans, one longsword with superhigh
priority, and one set of armor were hanging off my right
arm that couldn’t even be considered muscular.

There weren’t any handholds on the wall, as smooth as a
mirror, and I couldn’t stab the sword in any further. All was
below my body was the never-ending empty sky. Moreover, not
only my right hand, gripping onto the sword, was reaching its
limit; that applied to my left hand that had a female knight clad
in a heavy golden armor hanging off it too.

(Alicization Dividing, 18)