Chapter 240: Cleave
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 240: Cleave
Sachsen slipped away the moment he broke line of sight with the bastard called Swallow Blade. There was no need to give anyone a heads-up.
That barbarian.
Whenever Sachsen vanished, the barbarian noticed his presence. Even though Sachsen intentionally let half of his presence slip just to be sure he was seen, it was still an impressive level of perception.
He made no sound, and his form was invisible.
As he slipped through the underbrush, the grass rustled no more than if a single bee had landed on it. Sachsen moved, putting his specialty to work. Evading the eyes of a fool like Swallow Blade was child’s play.
In this manner, he infiltrated the place where the hostages were being held. It was the result of moving his feet diligently the moment he broke line of sight.
This isn't something I should be doing for free.
He hadn't received a request through the guild, nor a personal commission. Was he working too hard? The brief question that arose within him vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His body moved first.
It was an unfamiliar experience, but not a bad one. After all, he was currently a member of the Mad Platoon.
As he stepped into the abandoned cabin, Bell recognized him immediately. "How?"
"Easily," Sachsen replied curtly.
With a few precise movements, Sachsen sliced the ropes binding Bell's wrists and ankles. With a few more flicks of his dagger, the rest of the captives were quickly freed. Sachsen then led them toward the back of the cabin, where a small side room was located.
Why are we going to a dead end?
While the others expressed their doubts with their eyes, Bell, who had entered first, asked, "Did you break through the wall?"
Instead of answering, Sachsen pointed outside.
Instead of using the door, he had carved open the back of the cabin with his blade to create a new exit. In essence, he had made a back door. Slicing through the wall so easily was thanks to his unique magic weapon, but he had no reason to explain that. Nor was he obligated to answer the question.
Sachsen had done his job.
"Get out."
He had acted independently because he never expected the enemy to keep their word. Getting these people out of the way first would also help his brain-damaged captain.
Now, the key was to remain undetected. That was the only way to avoid accidentally getting the woman held by that smugly grinning bastard killed.
Since the captain said he would protect her...
He would help him do just that. Sachsen thought this was highly uncharacteristic of him. Saving lives instead of taking them—how utterly unfitting. And without even getting paid.
But it was what his captain wanted.
Having rescued all the hostages, he stole a glance out the window to check the tide of the battle.
Just as the giant lunged and the flexible sword slithered like a snake, poised to pierce his back, Encrid's body moved. It was at that exact moment that Encrid spotted Sachsen.
*
Placing his left hand against the incoming shield, Encrid detonated his Heart of Monstrous Strength.
He seemed to brace against the force for a split second before redirecting it to the side. With that, the momentum behind the shield slid harmlessly away.
Immediately after, something plunged vertically. It was a downward slash from the Half-Giant—a follow-up combo right after the shield strike. On top of that, a sharp thrust aimed at his back.
Encrid, deflecting the shield, blocked the tip of the flexible sword with his pauldron, then shifted his stance by pulling his right foot back and to the left. It was a body-deflection technique he had learned from Audin.
Moving in tandem, he swung his sword. The moment his upward slash clashed with the descending blade, he relaxed half his strength to let the impact slide off.
It was the Soft Sword. He deflected everything. The fruits of his rigorous training shone brightly. And all of this unfolded in the span of a mere half-breath.
Thud, ping, clang! Shhhring!
Pushing the shield aside, blocking the flexible sword with his pauldron, and deflecting the heavy blade. Sparks flew, but because he had deflected all the force, the impact was minimal. In other words, he still had the leeway to make his next move.
Completing his sequence, Encrid kicked the Half-Giant's shin with the tip of his boot.
Crack!
Enduring the blow, the giant pulled her shield back and swung it like a mace. Simultaneously, the flexible sword targeted his back once more.
Encrid calmly parried, blocked, and deflected.
How should one describe it? His movements were strictly faithful to the basics, yet they were strangely flawless.
How is he doing that?
The question lingered in Swallow Blade's mind, but the Half-Giant had no such doubts. The moment she saw it, she understood her opponent's movements.
Faster, stronger, and more flexible.
If one could move faster than the opponent, anticipate their actions, and possess even swifter reflexes and superior physical strength—then such movements became possible.
Ah.
Her tactics were being read. The Half-Giant was on the verge of losing herself in the thrill of battle once more, but she simply couldn't.
"Take this!" Swallow Blade shouted from behind.
Whoosh!
A hostage, pale with terror and unable to even scream, came flying over their heads. It was a projectile aimed precisely at Encrid. A highly troublesome projectile, as she was alive and could not simply be deflected. The "weapon" had apparently wet herself in fear, her skirt damp and clinging.
In the slowed flow of time, Encrid's fixed gaze shifted to the side, taking in both the flying hostage and Swallow Blade. Meanwhile, the flexible sword was already slithering toward his ankles.
Encrid's body pivoted completely.
The Half-Giant should have swung either her shield or her sword. Wasn't she positioned perfectly for that? Why else had they fought with Encrid sandwiched between them? It was for this very moment, even though she had been manipulated by that wicked, silver-tongued bastard to get here.
Yet, her hands refused to move.
Encrid, watching the incoming flexible sword, reacted by kicking out with the tip of his boot. With a sharp snip, the tip of his boot was sliced off, but his toes remained intact.
Right after, he smoothly caught the flying hostage in his arms. Catching her with a soft thud, he absorbed the momentum through his knees and spun to dissipate the remaining force. If there were a competition for catching flying humans, he would have won first place instantly.
"Are you alright?"
When he asked, Juri—the woman who made marmalade—still couldn't open her mouth. She was simply too shocked.
"I can't do this."
The voice came from behind him. It was the husky voice of the Half-Giant.
"Is that so?" Encrid said casually, glancing back.
"Yeah, I can't do this," she nodded.
She hadn't wanted a fight like this. He wasn't an opponent to be killed in this manner. Though she had been ordered to kill him, she couldn't bring herself to strike.
This isn't right.
Her mind told her no, but her heart dictated otherwise. She knew she shouldn't do this, yet her hands simply wouldn't move. The Half-Giant gave up. Though no one else knew, it was tantamount to giving up on her own life. It was an act no different from suicide.
But...
I don't think I'll regret it.
The giant thought to herself and lowered her weapon. She had no intention of fighting any further.
"Crazy bitch!" Swallow Blade bellowed.
Yet, as if he had expected nothing less, he leaped backward. Encrid wondered where he was heading, only to see him rushing toward the cabin where the hostages were kept. He was incredibly fast.
Encrid had ways to stop him. He could throw a dagger, or he could charge forward with a burst of speed. Even if he couldn't stop him completely, he could buy time, and with some luck, prevent him from reaching the cabin at all.
But there was no need.
Swallow Blade flung the cabin door open. Encrid watched his actions quietly. The movements of the flexible sword he had just faced lingered in his mind.
The tip of my boot got sliced.
He had intended to parry after dodging, but the tip of the blade had bent at an unexpected angle at the very last moment. What should he do the next time he faced it?
Over seven methods immediately came to mind. The experience he had accumulated over time was finally blossoming, fully integrating into his body. Pel had fastened the final button, but Encrid had been fastening them all along. If he couldn't fasten them, he sewed them; if he couldn't sew them, he would make a new button from scratch to get the job done.
So, there was no need to thank Pel.
"...Fuck." Swallow Blade muttered.
It was only natural that a curse was his first reaction. For the cabin was already empty.
Because Sachsen is there.
Encrid had expected this. Swallow Blade, of course, had not.
"Surprised?"
As Encrid spoke and prepared to set the hostage down, the Half-Giant reached out her hands.
"I won't hurt her."
She had refused to strike him from behind, and she wouldn't harm the hostage either. It was only natural. Encrid handed the woman over to the Half-Giant. The giant gently sat her down on the ground.
Encrid began walking toward Swallow Blade. Slowly, steadily. Thanks to the rain, the ground was wet, making a squelching sound with every step. At the sound of boots squelching against the mud, the bastard whipped his head around.
"You smuggled the hostages out? You liar!"
Look at this guy. He was every bit as shameless as Rem. Sinking a blade into someone's back without warning, and he calls me a liar?
"You certainly have thick skin."
At this point, Encrid didn't even have the leisure to offer a smile. Swallow Blade took a stance, holding his own sword in one hand and the dangling flexible sword in the other.
Encrid raised his sword, bringing the tip behind his head and positioning his hands right next to his right ear. It was the single-strike kill of the Heavy Sword Style: the Anger Stance.
"As if cleaving a charging lion, as if cleaving solid steel."
Ragna's words came to mind, and his body naturally fell into the stance. What should he do if the flexible sword was tricky? What if it kept coming back even after being parried? Simple. He just had to cleave through all of it.
There is nothing in this world that cannot be cut. If you fail to cut it, it is because you are lacking. Or because your equipment was lacking.
Those were Ragna's words. A crazy slacker, but his genius was undeniable. Learning the sword from him had been a stroke of good fortune.
"Hey, I am definitely going to kill you," Swallow Blade said, tossing aside his regular sword with a metallic ping.
Kill him? How? Encrid was confident, not arrogant. Swallow Blade was no match for him. He could have handled him even before meeting Shepherd Pel. If he had been willing to take a wound and resolved to kill him, he could have done so.
Of course, that was Swallow Blade before he started using the flexible sword. But what about now?
He would not lose. He could cut him. He would cut him.
His repeated will planted a small seed within Encrid's heart. It was the formless energy he had learned through Rejection. Although it had not sprouted yet, the seed was firmly planted.
"Try it," Encrid said.
"Fine, you motherfucker."
Cornered, the bastard reached into his shirt.
Flicking Sword Style? Is he going to throw something?
Encrid's prediction was off. What came out of the bastard's shirt was a scroll. It was a tool, an artifact, that Encrid had never seen before in his life. It was an incredibly rare item called a magic scroll—a device that stored a spell to be activated at the necessary moment.
Magic was mysterious, and spells were bizarre.
"Explode!"
The bastard shouted, throwing the scroll above Encrid. Encrid didn't recognize it as a scroll, naturally, since it was his first time seeing one. However, his sixth sense screamed a warning. Something disastrous was about to erupt from that paper.
And erupt it did.
Whoosh!
The scroll burst into flames, and a massive fireball suddenly materialized, hurtling downward. It wasn't as fast as an arrow, so he could dodge it, but...
Just before taking his stance, Encrid had mapped his surroundings in his mind.
If I dodge?
The fireball would fly past him. In its trajectory lay the Half-Giant and the woman who had wet herself. Even if the Half-Giant blocked it with her shield, what if it exploded? The woman he had just saved would die.
Encrid's thoughts accelerated. He analyzed everything in an instant, reached a conclusion, and drew upon the absolute best move he could perform from the Anger Stance.
Thump!
He charged straight toward the incoming fireball. Kicking off the ground, holding his breath, his raised sword, the hands gripping the hilt, and the balance of his body moving in perfect unison with his feet. He channeled everything into a single, unified motion.
Rumble!
It felt as though a heavy, resonant sound echoed. Encrid's body seemed to blur and stretch like an afterimage. At least, that was how it appeared to Swallow Blade.
Fool!
Swallow Blade was certain of his victory. What swordsman in their right mind would charge head-on into a fireball with their bare body? If it hit, it was over. He would be gravely injured. He wouldn't be able to stop him. Though that Half-Giant bitch had backed off, she wouldn't interfere either.
The ecstasy of victory, the sheer thrill! The pent-up frustration from holding back his murderous urges for so long fused with the moment. Because it was the moment of release after being cornered, Swallow Blade's thoughts accelerated as well.
There was a moment when their accelerated thoughts aligned. It was when Encrid's blurred form reached the front of the fireball.
The most logical action possible from the Anger Stance flowed from Encrid's fingertips. Pivoting on his left foot, he transferred rotational force from his toes to his waist, and finally to his hands—a Heavy Sword Style Diagonal Slash.
Whoosh!
Everything happened in a flash. Watching the situation from a tree beside the cabin, Sachsen's brow twitched.
He's going to cut it?
A strike delivered by a blade that had begun in the Anger Stance. Along the space carved diagonally, the incoming fireball split in two. The severed halves of the fireball crashed down to the left and right of Encrid.
Boom! Boom! Cra-crack!
An explosion erupted. The wet soil dried instantly and splattered in all directions. With a rapid clatter, several pebbles turned into fiery sparks grazed past Encrid's head and pelted his back.
Having unleashed such power, Encrid was left kneeling with his left knee on the ground. After briefly reflecting on the moment he had cleaved the fireball, Encrid stood up.
"Hmm. It cuts."
His reaction was far too casual to be called admiration. He had figured that if it cut, great; if not, he would just get a little singed. Half his face might have been burned, but...
To Encrid, there was something far more important than his appearance. It was the present moment—refusing to give up, refusing to back down.
In that manner, Encrid cleaved magic itself.