987. The
‘shedding.’
If you cannot withstand intimidation with equal intimidation and dodge it, you are driven into a defensive position. However, the opponent absorbed and deflected every attack as if they had been waiting for this.
This too?
Vertical cutting, a sword technique that combines the concept of rock smashing with the vertical slash, which is the foundation of swordsmanship. The strike is instantaneous, and the impact explodes in a single moment.
It was a tricky technique to block with a flowing sword, but the opponent received it with a relaxed blade and relieved the shock by leaping to the side.
Defense and evasion simultaneously.
It is outstanding skill. How does it compare to Balmung? They are two completely different types.
Judging who wins and loses at this level is foolish, so a comparison was meaningless. All that matters is enjoying the present moment.
Tiiing.
Maintaining a world of silence is physically and mentally draining. Rest was needed in between. It would be fun to turn it into a battle of endurance with Usuke leading the way, though.
Show me more.
Encred was intrigued by his opponent’s swordsmanship, but he did not get so absorbed that he forgot his surroundings as he had before.
How should I put it? Ever since he had seen the past of the Spell Slayer Zaiden, Encred could immerse himself whenever he wanted, yet he was also free to pull himself out.
His blue eyes sank deeply. When a lake is deep, its water transcends blue to a dark, blackish hue. Encred’s eyes were just like that.
‘more.’
Show it and reveal it. Pour out what you have.
Encred’s offensive quickened. It gained momentum.
From the outside, it looked no different from a blue line cutting through the darkness pouring down like a storm.
“Oh my?”
After knocking down the two guys presumed to be assassins, Rem stood with his feet on their backs and looked at Encred.
I told him not to kill them, so is he planning to beat them up happily instead of killing them? Killing half of them would count as granting the request .
Well, that wasn’t so bad. Rem was about to squat down when he thought it would be nice to have a chair, so he piled the two fallen guys on top of each other, sat on them, and crossed his legs. He then picked up the well-grilled meat and the glass of wine he had been eating earlier.
You are overflowing with confidence.
Rhinox approached and asked.
Because there’s no way we’ll be defeated.
Rhinox watched the man who had instantly knocked down even the assassin heading toward him.
A gray-haired savage of the West.
Apart from his bulging muscles, his agile movements and reaction speed would surprise even a knight.
Was this the charge knight of the Order of the Mad Knights?
He hadn’t even drawn the axe tucked into his waist.
Hey, your gaze is a bit intense.
Encred was in the midst of swinging his sword, wildly flailing as if dancing. Rem spoke, looking straight ahead.
It wasn’t exactly surprising, but that didn’t mean he was devoid of emotion. The Encred of today doesn’t fight merely with brute force; he incorporates the logic and principles of swordsmanship.
Watching him stirs the blood in a subtle way. Should I say he makes you want to duel him?
The man loitering nearby, said to be from Jaun, must have felt the same way. Just watching Encred awakens a person’s spirit. He stimulated and stirred desire.
Although he was an assassin, he wasn’t at a level that actually threatened one’s life. He was easy to subdue.
It does feel like I didn’t use my body enough.
So he reached out even to those who weren’t targeting him. He was itching just as much himself.
Moreover, with the insidious wildcat launching a counterattack on his side, there was no one left to challenge him.
Otherwise, that wildcat would never have left the King’s side.
I’d like to compete.
Rhinox knew that he was on his way to escort Encred and his party while also warning the Empire, and he was fully aware of his position; however, there are moments when a swordsman simply cannot hold back.
“You’re still at the age where your blood boils, huh?”
Rem stood up with a smile. What was there to be unable to accept that spirit and desire?
Rhinox quietly composed himself. Does aging mean there is no progress? Should one simply stand still, ruminating on the past?
Such questions had once filled his mind. Yet, there was a time when he was wandering in search of an answer just like that.
The funny thing was, a story Encred had told him lingered in his heart. It was the story of a man named Lord Graham.
He had seemed insignificant, appeared incapable of progress, and received no attention from anyone, yet he had ultimately broken through his limitations and moved forward toward the next stage.
Even if he had stopped now, he had not given up.
That heart, that will, that spirit.
Rhinox knew it, too. He had realized it and reflected upon it.
It’s okay if I go a little rough, right?
When I asked with all my heart, the corner of Rem’s mouth curled up to one side.
“If you don’t want to die, do your best.”
At the provocation, Rhinox drew his blade. *Clang*—a crisp sound reflected his mood. It would be fun. That anticipation was clearly evident.
Although he knew it was not the right time and that he should have held back, Rhinox lunged, and Rem raised his axe.
It seemed as though he were intoxicated by the starlight along with a few drinks, and perhaps influenced by the will naturally spread by Encred.
Does the reason matter? It did not.
Rem’s axe struck his sword.
Bang!
A loud bang erupted. A shockwave swept through the two of them, and the bonfire tumbled to one side. Watching this, Esther snapped her fingers.
Exactly.
With that, a curtain of wind spread around the campfire, dispelling the shockwave. She then gathered the burning firewood.
‘fire.’
Flames—it’s not exactly a style I’m good at. But for the past few days, my mind has been drawn to it.
Sometimes I get deeply absorbed in a field for no reason, and this was one of those times.
I will guard the rear.
Nephir, holding the magic of flirtation—no, the Morning Star—spoke as he stood behind Esther. He took a step back, but he did not cease his favor toward Esther.
He was truly a man who never gave up. Although his actions might have seemed ridiculous, he was a recognized mage and a respected teacher elsewhere. He
didn’t necessarily need to get involved in this matter, but he volunteered for the sake of Celiana’s safety. Of course, he did secure a few benefits, but no mage acts without a price.
That is why he was simply curious. What is it that is driving Esther right now?
Because of that man?
That was how it looked. Watching the man over there, fully immersed in his swordplay, my own heart races. The scent of determination he spreads as he fights influences his surroundings like a spell.
That’s a brutal article.
Would even the most skilled knights of the Empire show such a side?
He is clearly different from that so-called genius.
Nephir steeled himself, thinking of the knight who had recently turned his back on the Empire and left.
For now, he was simply keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings and doing his best to ensure no trouble arose.
Just as no wizard acts without a price, a wizard who has lost his composure has no value.
When everyone else reacted to the surprise attack, Riley quietly took a step. He concealed his presence using Fairytale and did not say or do anything.
It was only when he had caught Seriana from behind that he spoke.
Do not move recklessly.
He did not draw his sword. He simply rested his hand on the grip, stood still, and spoke.
At that single word, his squire, Moll, froze. When?
He hadn’t even realized he had been caught from behind. Balmung, too, had lost sight of him as he was turning away.
“I won’t kill them. But those guests over there aren’t our guests, so it’s a minimum precaution.”
These were the words of Grida Jaun, who had arrived at some point and was standing on the opposite side of Balmung. She drew her greatsword, resting it on her shoulder, and kept a watchful eye on Balmung. Her expression was blank.
It looked as if she didn’t particularly like the situation, but felt she had no choice.
“Doesn’t Jaun solve everything with a sword? But a hostage?”
Balmung didn’t even look at Seriana. His eyes were fixed on Grida. It seemed that she didn’t like the situation at all.
“We always ended up losing out a bit doing it that way. So we decided to become a bit more flexible. If you think about it, don’t you realize why Riley became the person in charge, instead of Rhinox or me?”
Yeah, that was a bit strange.
Even though anyone could see that he was the least skilled of the three, the leader was Riley Zaun.
“I’m sorry if you wanted a group of swordsmen who just foolishly get beaten up.”
This time, it was Riley’s turn to speak. His eyes shone with a languid light. That languidness was an expression of his resolve to calmly do whatever was necessary.
His father, Hescal, was dead. How? By sacrificing everything. He had chosen the path of protecting Zaun by staking everything—reputation, military power, will, and conviction.
He had no intention of ever seeing his father do that again. Riley carried on his father’s legacy.
It was just that his method differed.
It was about reading the situation, making judgments, and preparing before bloodshed occurred from within. Well, this story began with not forgetting the favors he had received, but he was right to judge that this approach was the better one.
Hadn’t Odinkar told him before he left?
“Do you think that lunatic will stop here?”
Yes, that madman Enkrid never stops. He will see it through to the end. Whatever the end may be, it is to his advantage to stand by his side.
That is the will of Odinkar Zaun, the new head of the family, and also the judgment of Riley.
Balmung pouted and crossed his arms.
“Anyway, you damn bastards. Is nothing ever going your way? Fine. Do as you please. I begged you not to kill them, but it can’t be helped if a few die. It’s the fault of the one who did what they were told not to do.”
This was said half-intended for the attacker to hear.
As the standoff continued, Saxony hunted down and subdued the hidden men one by one.
In doing so, he noticed a tattoo on the neck of one of them.
Butterfly Circus.
It is a legendary assassination guild comparable to Georg’s Dagger. They bear butterfly tattoos somewhere on their bodies and enjoy disguising themselves as a circus troupe.
Was he/she part of the Empire?
If Georg’s Dagger is the continent’s premier assassination guild, then these are an assassination guild of similar standing based in the Empire.
He had already taken down five of them. He hadn’t killed them. Was this a situation where killing was permissible? Saxen decided no.
The basis of his judgment lay in the poison they used and their attitude. No one risks their life to kill a king.
And as the situation turned out this way—presumably due to the will of their leader—they began targeting him first, rather than the king. It seemed as though they were playing along, as Saxen was playing along.
As he moved under the cover of darkness, fog suddenly enveloped the surroundings. Fog all of a sudden?
The influence of sorcery or a spell had suddenly enveloped him.
I was wondering when it would come out.
One of the reasons the Butterfly Troupe is famous is that every single one of them possesses peculiar skills.
While there are some in the Southern Knights who wield telekinesis, this group is one that trains those born with such supernatural abilities to become assassins.
A fog enveloped his body but did not penetrate beyond a certain zone. Instead, dozens of assassins appeared before Saxon’s eyes.
Every single one of them was either wielding a sharp, poison-coated dagger or biting it in their mouths. They were filled with murderous intent. They were brimming with the desire to risk their lives to deliver a single stab.
Moreover, the faces of each of them transformed into those of Jenatrice and his master.
It was a fog that presented illusions. Saxon closed his eyes. He relied on his hearing instead of his sight. He
moved straight through the fog. An illusion of Jenatrice approached and thrust her sword. A sword with a curved tip dug into his thigh and tore off flesh.
Blood gushed out, as if a blood vessel had been severed. Saxon felt pain as real as the real thing, but he ignored it.
A high-level order.
This isn’t a supernatural ability; it’s a spell. It’s designed to deceive the mind even with eyes closed.
Well, if one’s mind is shaken to this extent, they are disqualified as an assassin. The pain and the appearance of an acquaintance’s face are all intended to shake the mind. Saxon endured it without hesitation and reached his destination.
Are you going to do more?
And she asked. She had not drawn the dagger; she merely stood before it and asked.
The woman, who had been leaning against a tree with her hands crossed in a hand gesture, raised her head and looked at Saxony.
“Wow, he’s handsome.”
It was the greeting of the female assassin who had cast an illusion spell. The assassin’s attack ended there. The commotion subsided.
Even though the situation was coming to an end to some extent, Encred did not stop.
‘more.’
His heart and will were unwavering. His intentions were filled with nothing but purity, leaving no trace of malice.
His opponent, the Imperial Knight, had to draw out what he had at his disposal one by one in the face of the relentless assault.
He was enduring the raging storm by using blocking and dodging techniques.
Then, Encred suddenly stepped back. As he did so, he instantly changed his stance. He lowered the tip of his sword. It was the “Steel Gate” stance.
It was a posture dedicated to defense to lure the opponent’s attack.
A gap opened up between the blocking, dodging, and raging storm. The Imperial Knight moved his body reflexively the moment he recognized that opening.
An opportunity had come, so he seized it. Although his curved sword specialized in flowing swordsmanship, that did not mean he lacked offensive skills.
He shattered his opponent’s prediction by crossing his feet and bringing his sword close to the downward-pointing blade. He
deliberately brought his sword close to Encred’s sword. It was a move to target the head or upper body exposed by lowering the tip of his sword in the Steel Gate stance.
The moment the two blades crossed, he pushed the curved sword, the Falchion, upward. With the two swords locked together, he thrust his other hand deep into the inside of Encred’s elbow. The Imperial Knight then attempted an arm lock.
It was a scene that Audin would have been delighted to witness. Hadn’t he undergone so much training all this time to prepare for such a tactic?
