Chapter 315: Ah, This Is Fun
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 315: Ah, This Is Fun
Having wandered through countless battlefields, Aya had heard every insult imaginable—from vile curses about her parents to things too disgusting to repeat. But what she had just heard was a first in her life.
It was the very first time anyone had ever insulted her people’s blood with such foul language.
Above all else, Aya was a knight, and she took great pride in her appearance. She was proud to be an Easterner.
"...What?" Aya’s head tilted to the side, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"You reek. Go wash yourself."
Ragna was simply doing what he had been taught.
Encrid had always been a master at targeting an opponent’s psychological weaknesses. When it came to provocation, Encrid was arguably the best on the continent. Though Ragna wasn't his formal disciple, he had watched and learned from the man for years.
"...Did that bastard just say I stink?"
Aya was a knight, but she was also a woman.
"Brown shit" and "reeking"—it was a succession of highly irritating insults. What made it worse was that he had spat those words out with an utterly calm, expressionless face, as if he were stating an absolute, undeniable truth.
That made it even more infuriating.
"No, you don't smell! You have a scent... like flowers!" the squire quickly chimed in from behind, but the milk was already spilled.
Aya’s face hardened. She clenched her teeth so hard the muscles in her jaw tightened visibly.
"You motherfucker..."
Even in her rage, Aya did not completely lose her composure. She had too much experience for that. Instead, she channeled her fury into raw power. I am going to kill him.
"I'll cut out your tongue first."
Aya drew her swords. Tring!
She held two blades—one long, one short. The sword in her left hand was close to a standard longsword, while the one in her right was a shorter companion blade.
"You won't die easily—no, never mind."
The squire started to speak from behind but cut himself off, drawing his own weapon. Sssring!
Just by the sound of the draw, Ragna knew the weapon in the squire's hand was a longsword. At the same time, his eyes swept over the twin blades in Aya’s hands.
From behind, the squire exerted subtle pressure, aiming his sword and closing the distance. Ragna was now caught in a pincer movement.
"Did you think this would be a fair duel? Watch your back, dumbass."
Aya’s words carried a razor-sharp edge, fueled by her intense anger.
Ragna took her advice to heart. He intended to be very careful.
The squire shifted his feet. Shhh. His boots scraped against the ground as he repositioned. Ragna moved a few steps in response, keeping Aya in front and the retreating squire behind.
How should he deal with them? He was pinned from both sides.
Aya initiated. She closed the distance in a flash, unleashing a thrust of terrifying speed.
Ragna raised his sword to block. Clang!
It was a feint. The real threat came from the rear.
The squire’s sword came crashing down from above, aiming for the back of Ragna’s head. His trained senses jolted his entire body awake. Ragna bent his knees and thrust his raised sword upward.
The Heavy Sword Style was built on power. Naturally, Ragna knew how to channel his strength. Even with such a short trajectory and minimal movement, he could deliver a devastating impact.
The squire didn't follow through with the strike. Having fully projected his intent, he pulled back at the last second.
The moment Ragna thrust his sword above his head, he threw himself to the side.
Aya’s sword surged upward from where he had just been standing—an upward slash of terrifying speed. Whoosh!
The sound of her blade cutting through the air was chilling. It was a swift, unhesitating execution.
"My name is Aya, the 'Fragrant Aya' of the Ducal Knights!"
Aya coined her own nickname on the spot as she lunged forward again.
Ragna felt another slash coming from behind. Even without seeing it, he sensed the ripples in the air and the raw killing intent. Front and back—there seemed to be no way to block both.
Hup.
Ragna swung his sword in a wide, sweeping arc. If he couldn't block, he would deflect.
His blade, larger and longer than an ordinary sword, traced a spiral trajectory. The sword sliced through the air twice as fast as usual. Both the squire’s and Aya’s swords were caught in its path. Clang!
Once again, the only physical clash was with Aya.
If nothing else, Ragna’s situational awareness in battle was faster than anyone’s.
The one behind is using an Illusion Sword.
And it was an Illusion Sword infused with a significant amount of 'Will'.
The man might be called a squire, but his skill was enough to crush any mediocre associate knight. With intent and willpower, he executed his strikes right up to the point of impact, sending phantom blades flying forward.
Detecting and dodging them was nearly impossible. Distinguishing the real from the fake was a nightmare. If Ragna let his guard down for even a second, he would be sliced open. Though it was an Illusion Sword, a physical blade capable of cutting flesh and bone was always waiting right behind the phantom.
Aya’s swordsmanship was dazzling. While focused on speed, it also carried significant weight. It was a style that sat somewhere between the Heavy Sword Style and the Swift Sword Style. She was clearly well-trained, the heir to an established school of martial arts.
Above all, the coordination between the two was flawless.
It was a crisis. A supreme crisis where a single misstep would mean death. Yet, because of this crisis, Ragna felt a surge of satisfaction.
Listening to the voice within him, hadn't he been waiting for a moment like this? The current situation was immensely gratifying.
"Are you... laughing?"
Aya spoke, dumbfounded by the expression on Ragna’s face. The emotion written there was more offensive to her than any sword swing. She let out a scoff of disbelief.
Ragna, on the other hand, was genuinely smiling. He was thoroughly enjoying this.
"Do you get off on getting stabbed or something?" Aya asked, bewildered.
Ragna quietly savored the feeling. A crisis was a catalyst—an opportunity. All he had to do was leap to the next level right here and now. He recognized that this was the moment he had been waiting for.
"Shut your mouth. You still stink."
He even wielded his tongue like a blade, a trick he had picked up from Encrid.
"Sure, sure, I'll kill you. I'll make sure to mince you into tiny pieces!"
Aya’s swords moved again, weaving left and right to leave a trail of afterimages. It was a form of the Swift Sword Style different from Lycanos’s.
Ragna realized he had been mistaken. It wasn't just a middle ground between Heavy and Swift styles.
She’s mixing in the Illusion Sword as well.
Her swordsmanship was highly refined. That made him like it even more.
Cl-cl-clang! He blocked Aya’s countless strikes.
Clang! He blocked the sword coming from behind.
He deflected whenever he saw an opening.
Clank! Clang! Clash!
Sparks flew as steel ground against steel.
Scritch! He pushed off the ground, his body moving relentlessly. He had to move. If he paused to catch his breath, he would be cut down. He minimized his breathing to the absolute limit, enduring the pressure.
"Hah!"
A shout rang out from behind. Sensing an attack flying toward him with formidable momentum, Ragna reacted instantly. He held his sword vertically, spinning around to block.
Boom!
The loudest explosion of sound since the fight began erupted as he blocked the squire’s strike. The bastard possessed not only the Illusion Sword but also a heavy-handed strike from the Heavy Sword Style.
Ragna should have jumped to absorb the impact, but he failed to dissipate the shock properly. His knees throbbed with pain.
Immediately after, Aya’s sword came down from above. It was a crown-cleaving strike, swift as a hawk snatching a fish. Having no time to raise his sword, Ragna twisted his body.
Sshhh, rip!
Aya’s blade grazed Ragna’s shoulder. A spray of blood splattered into the air. Though he wore armor—crude as it was—it was sliced through without resistance. The sword Aya held was no ordinary blade; its cutting power was exceptional.
In that state, Ragna swung his sword. His blade, half a length longer than average, whipped like a lash, tearing through the space in front of him like a beam of light.
Rumble!
A sound like thunder erupted from his swinging sword. Aya didn't block; she dodged. She knew instinctively that this wasn't an attack one should try to stop. Her eyes were special, allowing her to see the danger clearly.
"Phew."
Ragna bought himself a brief moment to steady his breathing. Having unleashed every technique he knew, he had taken a stab to the back of his thigh, and a chunk of flesh had been gouged from his left shoulder.
He was at a disadvantage. He was bleeding out.
Yet, Ragna did not back down. The concept of defeat did not exist in his mind. His thoughts were filled only with the sensation of reaching for something that seemed just within grasp, yet remained elusive.
It was no illusion. Ragna stood before a wall only he could perceive, and he had finally found his catalyst.
"Ah, this is fun," Ragna muttered in the midst of the relentless clash.
"You crazy bastard!"
Aya grew even angrier. She was the one winning, yet she was the one feeling anxious. It was only natural. Aya possessed the 'Will of Sight'. To her eyes, Ragna was catching up to the two of them in real-time.
He's a monster!
Aya felt the opponent’s sword changing. She saw it happening. Naturally, she grew impatient.
"Fuck."
Squire Bill spat out a curse. He was usually quiet, but he was the type to turn vicious when cornered. The fact that such words were coming out of Bill’s mouth meant the tide was turning in a strange direction.
A bastard who should have died long ago was holding out. As he held on, his superior, the associate knight, signaled him with her eyes. Things were turning into a total clusterfuck.
Bill’s insides burned with anxiety. Aya felt the same. What the hell is this guy?
The swords in Aya’s hands moved even faster. For a split second, she tricked his eyes, appearing as if she had four arms. It was an illusion born of sheer speed.
Ragna’s eyes tracked it.
Squelch!
Unable to block everything, he allowed a strike to pierce his abdomen. But he didn't take it cleanly. The thrust only went halfway in. He had twisted his waist while stepping back to avoid a fatal wound.
He pulled back while taking the hit?
As he twisted, Ragna extended his sword in a long reach. Aya couldn't follow up with another attack. Why would she charge in and get bitten by his fangs when his intention was so obvious? She, too, pulled back.
Her deliberate thrust, aimed at his opening, had only managed to tear his skin.
Squire Bill moved to reposition himself. While Aya briefly retreated, Ragna stumbled. It wasn't a feint; he was genuinely off-balance from pushing his body to the limit to withstand that last blow.
Aya’s body reacted instinctively. The opponent’s opening was laid bare. Her eyes saw it. Squire Bill adjusted his grip on his sword accordingly.
We end this now.
They had to. An ominous sensation coursed through Aya’s entire body. She felt it in her bones—if they didn't kill him now, they never would.
How could this bastard... grow stronger while fighting?
It made no sense. What kind of talent was this?
Just before Aya and Bill lunged at him, Ragna realized.
This is it.
It had been a battle both long and short. Ragna reflected on his past battles. He recalled every sword he had ever swung. Ever since he first held a blade as a child, Ragna could see the path his sword should take. He knew exactly where to swing.
It wasn't an ability he could explain. If he simply swung where he saw the path, his opponent would die or be wounded. The genius named Ragna was born with those senses.
Yet, between the female knight and the squire before him, the path was broken. It did not connect. He had been barely holding on by forcing the fragmented paths together.
Then, he understood. Until now, he had only walked the paths given to him. He had merely followed the trail shown by his talent. That was a passive, defensive stance.
What was the opposite?
With the sword I swing... I carve the path. I forge my own way.
The swords from the female knight’s hands traced two trajectories. From behind, a strike rushed in with the force of a thunderbolt. Caught between two skilled fighters, Ragna did not try to connect the broken paths.
Instead, he walked a new one.
Creak.
His arm muscles coiled, his entire musculature shifted, and his heart pounded.
Thump!
In sync with his beating heart, Ragna’s body moved. To carve a new path, one must take the first step. Ragna did just that.
He blocked Aya’s first sword with his right forearm. Thud! With the blade embedded in his arm, he tensed his muscles, trapping it.
Next, her shorter blade thrust upward toward his abdomen. He deflected the point of impact by driving his knee upward to strike her sword-hand.
Slash! The blade grazed the flesh of his flank and slid behind his back.
Simultaneously with his knee strike, Ragna gripped the sword in his left hand and spun his body. Ragna was a man of superhuman strength; physical conditioning was the foundation of the Heavy Sword Style.
Aya’s sword remained impaled in his forearm. Pivoting on his right foot, Ragna swung his left hand backward in a spinning slash.
Cut.
He infused it with the 'Will of Severing'.
Whoosh. The blade sliced through air and sound alike. Before Squire Bill’s descending sword could strike from behind, the sound-devouring slash reached Bill’s torso first.
Clang! Squelch!
Bill’s body was cleaved in half in midair. Blood and entrails spilled out. It happened just before Bill’s blade could connect. With his final ounce of strength, Bill’s dying blade struck Ragna’s shoulder.
Thud. The brief impact rattled Ragna’s entire body, but it didn't matter. The newly forged path was still continuing.
Crack!
Right after blocking the sword with his arm, smashing her hand with his knee, and cleaving his enemy’s torso, Ragna slammed his forehead into Aya’s helmet.
Striking the visor tore Ragna’s forehead open, sending blood streaming down his face. He didn't care.
Screech! Aya violently wrenched her sword out of his right arm. Ragna relaxed his muscles, letting her do as she pleased. Instead, he pulled his left hand back and raised it high. The sword that had just cleaved Squire Bill came plunging down.
Aya’s eyes darkened. Crazy bastard.
For a single moment, the opponent before her had displayed an ability similar to her own. Like the Will residing in her eyes, he had found and executed the absolute best move in every clash.
Aya crossed her swords to block, but Ragna’s descending blade was impossibly heavy.
Boom!
An explosive sound erupted where their blades met.
Crack! "Argh!"
Both of Aya’s arms shattered under the weight. And with that, the battle was decided.
"Ah."
Bleeding profusely from his arm, shoulder, and thigh, Ragna let out a soft sigh. He swayed, looking as if he might collapse at any moment. Slowly shaking his head, Ragna caught his breath and tried to stand straight. His body still tilted precariously. He was exhausted.
In that state, Ragna spoke.
"Thank you."
He meant it. Aya realized then that this man was truly, utterly insane.
"You... you... like th—"
This won't end here. Do you have any idea who is backing me? I didn't come here alone. Those words never made it out.
Instead, Ragna’s sword struck Aya’s helmet with pinpoint accuracy.
Crack!
The helmet crumpled, and Aya’s skull shattered. And just like that, an associate knight of the Ducal Knights died.
*
Encrid did not think this was the end. Even as he pushed through the dust and followed the path, he prepared himself for whatever might happen next.
Just moments ago, ropes had flown out and bound his body tightly. Of course, it was futile.
The Isolation Technique—making the body appear larger.
With a motion of tensing his muscles and then expanding them all at once, he overlaid the Heart of Monstrous Strength and spread his arms wide.
Snap!
The moment they caught him, the ropes scraped against his skin and snapped like dry twigs. After that, the frequency of incoming arrows began to dwindle, but letting his guard down was still out of the question.
Even if he could repeat this day, what would happen if he didn't do his absolute best right now? He would cease to be the human named Encrid.
Therefore, he gave it his all.
The footsteps of the pursuing soldiers grew distant. Still, he did not relax.
To the very end.
He kept going. Whether to find allies or discover some signal, his steps were not waiting for change, but actively seeking it.
There were six crossbow quarrels embedded in his back alone. He had been stabbed in the thigh. His right boot was torn and falling apart, and he had taken a thrown stone directly to his forehead.
He had lost a significant amount of blood. The half-dried scab on his forehead broke open again from his violent movements, oozing fresh blood. Every single muscle fiber trembled. He had reached his limit long ago.
Did that make it a problem? No.
Encrid ran. He believed that this was not the end. Because letting his guard down was out of the question.
As he ran, a four-legged beast suddenly leaped out in front of him. Encrid took a defensive stance—deflecting with the sword in his right hand, thrusting with the sword in his left. A brief preparation followed reflexively.
Along with the beast, there was someone holding a longsword. Encrid instinctively went to draw his sword, then stopped.
Seeing this, the other person spoke.
"Let's spar later. I sprained my arm."
It was Ragna.
Growl.
Standing beside him was the Lake Panther, Esther. They had escaped the encirclement.
Encrid didn't know when exactly they had broken free. In truth, he didn't need to know. Whether running until death or walking until escape, he simply had no intention of ever stopping.