Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.2 – Knight Lee Han Here
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Yord Decker was a talented graduate who had topped the Royal Academy's Swordsmanship Department.
Though he was the heir to a modest knight family with no notable title to his name, he was confident that his swordsmanship was on par with any noble's son.
As proof, he had claimed the top spot in the Swordsmanship Department, which was teeming with renowned talents.
This gave him immense pride in his sword skills, and he firmly believed he could rise to the top even in the kingdom's premier White Silver Lion Knights.
'There are plenty of tough seniors, but none are insurmountable. I'll surpass them all in five years—no, two.'
Yord's ambitious nature drove him to aim for vice-commander of his knight division first and foremost.
For reference, his unit was the 3rd Knight Division within the White Silver Lion Knights, which consisted of three divisions.
...It was led by an Aura User as commander.
He had originally set his sights on becoming commander himself, but he wasn't foolish enough to challenge one of the kingdom's three superhumans for the position.
Thus, his current goal was vice-commander, which required catching the Knight Commander's eye at the right opportunity.
'Senior Ri Han...'
That was when Yord's eyes fell on a senior knight—Ri Han or Lee Han, as he was called.
Rumor had it he was a former soldier who had caught the Knight Commander's attention and been knighted, making him an oddity within the division.
Naturally, Yord had been skeptical when he first heard about him.
Apparently, he hadn't even mastered the basic Fighting Technique.
The gap between those who had learned Fighting Technique and those who hadn't was as vast as that between a cat and a lion.
'Of course, he must have some skill to still be in the knights, so I won't let my guard down.'
Yord held no grudges against him.
Coming from a humble knight family himself, without land or title, he was in no position to discriminate.
If anything, Yord pitied Ri Han.
But pity was just pity.
Yord planned to use him as a stepping stone for his own advancement.
'Don't call me heartless, Senior.'
Yord didn't see him as easy prey, but he was confident he wouldn't lose.
──That arrogance shattered in less than five minutes.
"Huff! Haaah...!"
"Come on, push a bit harder. I haven't even warmed up yet."
"Haaah, guh-hack!"
"...Your stamina is abysmal."
His opponent was toying with Yord.
Led by Jake, the knight division members were all intently watching the duel between the newbie and Lee Han, and every onlooker was left slack-jawed.
'Ruthless bastard.'
'He's completely playing with him.'
'...Same as always.'
Thud, thud-thud!
As at the start, Yord charged first.
His swordplay, based on swift strikes and illusory feints, was fast and full of deceptive changes.
It was dazzling enough to fool the eye, and some knights furrowed their brows, unable to imagine blocking it.
A performance worthy of the Swordsmanship Department's top graduate.
Had he not come from such a humble family, he could have fit right into the 1st or 2nd Knight Divisions.
...But his opponent today was the wrong match.
He might have shone impressively against others.
'He's parrying every single one.'
Lee Han showed only pure defense, blocking or deflecting Yord's flashy onslaughts.
No counters, just blocking—it might seem like he was on the back foot, but enduring five minutes without a single clean hit?
Especially when the attacker was drenched in sweat, while the defender showed no fatigue, no sweat, no retreat amid the desperate assault...
This was outright toying with him.
"Whoa, impressive swordsmanship. What's that style called?"
"Huff! Haaah!"
"Hmm, right, don't answer now. You'd choke."
"Guhhh!"
To outsiders, it sounded mocking, but the division members knew better.
Those compliments were sincere—and all the more humiliating for it.
'That's why he gets under my skin.'
Those who had faced Lee Han knew.
He wasn't a genius who dismantled sword styles on sight, nor a veteran crushing foes with experience.
He simply...
'Watches closely and blocks.'
Or just reacted and blocked.
Incredibly, Lee Han observed his opponent's weapon to the end and blocked accordingly.
No matter the direction or feints—he just watched till the last second and blocked perfectly.
Any swordsman—or warrior—would find it absurd.
Everyone knows you can block a sword, spear, or arrow if you see it coming perfectly.
But actually doing it while watching? That's insanely hard.
Anyone claiming otherwise is either a bookish scholar who's never held a blade or a loudmouthed fool.
What Lee Han did was acrobatics, a stunt show.
Simple, yet impossible.
It required total, free control over one's body.
That's why...
"Why'd he pick that guy of all people and suffer such humiliation?"
Jake shook his head in pity for the newbie.
-His lungs burned like mad, his mind fogging over.
Yord desperately wanted to collapse anywhere—dirt floor or not—and growing anxiety clawed at his sanity.
'W-What the hell is this guy?!'
Amazing? Seasoned? Skilled?
No, none of that.
Not even the kind he'd seen in the academy.
Just...
'Strong. Just plain strong...!'
Simply strong.
No fancy techniques, no special sword style.
Yet overwhelmingly strong.
"Eeeeek!"
Whoosh!
Yord launched into a frenzy, unleashing the Eight Phantom Sword Forms.
One of the Phantom Sword styles, it created illusory multiples through wrist and footwork, making the blade seem manifold—and at its peak, even the body appeared duplicated.
But now, none of that intricate deception worked.
Look—even Yord's movements, hard for anyone to track, and he was still watching!
'His eyes—they're fixed on me!'
He should've missed at least once, but those eyes held Yord entirely.
Not just the sword—his whole body, predicting the next move and blocking the path.
Boom!
And Yord's sword wasn't lacking in power either.
With Fighting Technique mastered, his physical prowess matched ten soldiers.
Yet Lee Han blocked it head-on without a tremor or strain.
Silently parrying, casting only intrigued glances.
For a moment, Yord's spirit nearly broke.
A despair he'd never felt, even from his father, crashed over him.
...The helplessness of twenty years of swordsmanship—effort—being denied.
It crushed Yord.
Then.
"-Aren't you going too easy?"
"......Pardon?"
"I said, aren't you half-assing it? Didn't you challenge me because you wanted to win?"
"W-What...?!"
A barb like a thorn piercing his heart.
Yord had no time to compose himself before more followed.
"Right? You heard the rumors. There's a soldier-turned-knight in the 3rd Division who can't even use Fighting Technique. You figured you could take him, huh?"
"Th-That's..."
"Hey, no judgment. So stop looking so stung. What I'm saying is, you felt it about a minute in, right? 'Huh? This guy's no pushover?' -Am I wrong?"
"......"
Spot on.
Those in the know understood.
In a clash—fists, swords, whatever—you sense it instantly upon first contact.
Strong or weak?
Yord had felt an immovable boulder the moment their blades met.
He realized his mistake: this man was no easy mark, but a true powerhouse.
"Good thing you knew. But is that how you fight someone you know is tough?"
"I don't follow."
"Kid, you don't get it. If you knew he wasn't easy, you should've gone all-in on one strike. With your best form, full resolve to win."
"......"
"So why are you just hopping around like a sad puppy?"
"!!!"
Thud!
Yord winced as if clubbed in the back of the head.
The shock was that profound—and irrefutably accurate.
Yes, despite knowing the vast gap, he hadn't committed fully, hadn't steeled for a one-shot kill.
Just flailing about, while his opponent showed no fatigue or threat.
Realization brought a new shame.
Arrogant, idiotic—he'd acted the fool despite knowing better.
He should've clashed all-out before despair set in.
At least it would've been cathartic.
"......I showed a foolish display."
"Worth explaining, then. At least you're not a total idiot."
"Yes."
Yord replied, raising his sword tip squarely forward.
He was grateful.
For awakening the arrogant fool, the one wallowing in despair.
So!
Hummm!
"I'll go all-out now."
"Oho."
Lee Han marveled.
No—all the watching knights did, eyes widening.
Yord's body and sword resonated, trembling as one.
A mere blunted training blade, yet now it gleamed razor-sharp.
A resonance phenomenon when a swordsman's wavelength aligns perfectly with their blade.
A sword aura manifested by only the rarest of talented swordsmen.
The blade's destructive power reaches its limit, capable of overcoming skill gaps.
For a swordsman, it was akin to a sure-kill strike.
And now, Yord channeled his honed senses to trigger Sword Resonance, thrusting forth.
Stamina, spirit, consequences—irrelevant. Only the burning intent to cleave him remained.
Whoosh!
Yord's sword flashed at its fastest yet, reaching Lee Han's nose in a blink.
Ultimate swift-sword art.
Discarding phantoms, a changeup betting purely on speed.
And
"Yeah, that's more like it."
Lee Han watched Yord's motion to the end, a smile playing on his lips.
Flash!
......And swung hard.
Boom!!
The next instant, a man flew.
"......Brutal guy."
The onlookers saw it.
The amazing newbie, who had unleashed Sword Resonance for a dashing finale...
What a...
"...Cough."
Miserable defeat.
Yord skipped across the ground like a flat stone on water—three bounces—before slamming into the wall, convulsing unconscious.
And the one who had skipped him like that stone?
"Phew, refreshing."
Grinned brightly, looking utterly invigorated.