Chapter 533: Plunder
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 533: Plunder
Knight Jamal channeled his Will, making the sword in his right hand hum with power.
Hummm!
The blade vibrated violently.
Encrid watched as the trembling steel left a trail of afterimages in its wake. As the sword hummed, the blade seemed to multiply into dozens, then hundreds. It was like watching the frantic beating of a bee's wings.
Unless that sword was more talkative than Azpen, this had to be the core of Knight Jamal’s swordsmanship.
"Take this again."
Jamal spoke as he swung. There was no sound of feet kicking off the ground, nor the whistle of a blade cutting through the air.
A sword swung with the intent of one who had reached the level of a Knight moved far beyond the perception of ordinary men. A speed exceeding all limits surged inward, swallowing its own sound.
This realm was known as 'the moment sound dies.'
It was a name coined by a bard who had heard it described, but in reality, it was simply the act of swinging a sword faster than the speed of sound. To an ordinary observer, the sound and the movement simply appeared out of sync.
But to those who actually roamed within that silent space, it was all the same.
Through his Foresight, Encrid read his opponent's attack a step ahead. At the same time, he judged it nearly impossible to avoid. The trajectory was too tricky to dodge; no, this was a strike designed to be blocked. It was a ploy intended to settle the match with a single, overwhelming blow rather than a sequence of strikes.
If he dodged, he would be forced to yield the offensive to his enemy.
Encrid unleashed his full power in an instant, executing an upward slash toward the trajectory of Jamal's swing.
'Deflect.'
The moment his intent took form, it manifested as Will—transforming into a heavy mass that lent explosive strength to his legs, core, and right arm. Naturally, the Heart of Monstrous Strength activated in tandem.
Boom!
An explosive roar erupted as the two weapons collided. This time, they did not pass each other. They simply swung, clashed, and retreated exactly two steps each.
"How brutish," Jamal remarked.
Encrid merely jerked his chin. It was a silent gesture implying that Jamal was the more brutish of the two.
Hummmmm.
Jamal's sword was still humming. The vibration of the blade created a steady wave, a frequency that translated into the sheer force loaded into his strikes.
Knights were those who used Will to unleash physical strength far beyond their natural limits. Since a Knight's sword was also imbued with these vibrations, it could cleanly slice through even refined iron. Such was the mechanism behind the monstrous power dwelling in Jamal's sword.
Encrid, on the other hand, had blocked it with nothing but raw strength.
The Isolation Technique had tempered his body like never before, and the Heart of Monstrous Strength multiplied the power dwelling within that physical frame. Thus, the force of their clashing strikes was evenly matched.
That was why Jamal had called him brutish. To Jamal, it looked as though he had woven complex technique into his strike, while his opponent had countered by simply throwing a raw mass of Will at it.
Was it a wasteful method? Or was he simply born with monstrous strength?
'He blocked the vibrations with raw power?'
Under Jamal's watchful gaze, Encrid switched his sword to his left hand and shook out his right. He seemed to be trying to dissipate the lingering impact.
Seeing this, Jamal immediately thrust his sword forward.
Completely detached from his casual tone, a thrust like a ray of light aimed straight for Encrid's heart. Even if one could block a slash with raw strength, how would they handle a piercing thrust?
Clang, cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-clang!
Encrid parried and deflected the flurry of thrusts with the sword in his left hand. He didn't stop at just deflecting, however. Even after parrying, his sword did not halt; it curved and flew toward Jamal's neck like a tightening noose.
Jamal tensed his waist, pulling back his extended sword as he leaned backward at an impossible angle.
With a sharp shhhk, the blade grazed the tip of his chin.
There wasn't even time for a drop of blood to splatter. The grazing blade immediately dropped from above, aiming for his abdomen. Jamal, who had dodged by practically lying flat, pulled his sword back even harder.
The weapon in Jamal's hand was longer. Therefore, if he chose to slash instead of dodging, he would have the advantage in reach. It was a split-second decision, but a highly effective one, forcing Encrid to throw himself to the side.
He couldn't afford to lose his own head just to pierce his opponent's stomach.
With a sharp whoosh, Jamal's sword slashed through the air. Encrid, who had been standing there just a moment ago, had already shifted a step and a half to the side.
Quickly recovering his stance, Jamal spoke with a smirk.
"So you're not just strong, eh?"
An opponent whose technique was also formidable. For a brief moment, Jamal felt a pang of envy toward his opponent's talent.
Look at this man.
How many years had it been since Jamal himself had become a Knight? Even if the opponent before him had reached the level of a Knight immediately after surviving their last encounter, it had been a year or two at most. Yet, neither his strength nor his technique lagged behind Jamal's own.
'Would Corwin despair if he saw this?'
That bastard had been drunk on his own talent since childhood. While that arrogance and the ability to enjoy such talent were gifts in themselves, the man before him seemed no less gifted in terms of raw potential.
A refined blade—the man before him looked like steel forged by hammering and beating it countless times.
'Not content with his innate talent, he lights his path with effort.'
It was a misconception anyone would make. It wasn't Jamal's fault. Encrid had broken through with nothing but grueling effort, not talent, but there was no way Jamal could know that. Since Encrid had reached the level of a Knight, who could look at him now and speak of humble talent?
Misconception or not, nothing changed. Jamal sharpened his focus as he looked at his opponent.
'Vibrations don't work.'
'What should I try next?'
Jamal moved on to his next step. While vibrations were a useful technique, they weren't his specialty. Jamal never gave his all right from the start, no matter who he faced. He enjoyed the process of revealing his arsenal one piece at a time. Barnas disliked this trait, but it was the style that meshed best with Jamal's unique abilities.
Next was the Orthodox Sword Style.
Because of the presence of Corwin—an unparalleled genius who possessed Foresight within the order—Jamal had been forced to train his Orthodox Sword Style relentlessly. To use a move that would work against someone who read every single option, one had to twist and layer their intentions while keeping them hidden.
He attempted the same approach this time, but...
Clang, thud, crack!
When Jamal swung his blade wide in an attempt to strike the crown of the head, Encrid switched his sword and struck back instantly. It was a Valerian steel sword reflecting a cold blue light.
Normally, if the opponent deflected or barely blocked the strike to the crown, Jamal would immediately step forward with his right foot and bend his blade downward, making the attack trajectory unpredictable. But that setup was shut down from the very start.
No, that wasn't the end of it.
Next, when Jamal delivered a diagonal thrust and initiated a half-sword fight while gripping the ricasso, Encrid skillfully parried that too, before immediately thrusting his forehead forward in a brutal headbutt.
Jamal's Orthodox Sword Style was a method of constant deception; the opponent was supposed to be flustered by his erratic swings and footwork. The core of it was to shake the opponent with unorthodox techniques.
While he was at it, Jamal feigned a slash, then swung his leg in a low kick aimed at Encrid's calf. It was a common mercenary trick, but even such cheap tactics became lethal when executed by a Knight.
This moment was no exception.
Yet, Encrid repeatedly shut down the very first move of every single action and unorthodox battle of wits.
'Is he reading everything?'
Or was he simply reacting on pure instinct?
Jamal didn't know, but thanks to the thoughtform trapped in the sword, Encrid had trained the Orthodox Sword Style—specifically, Aker's Spiderweb—until his palms were worn smooth. To be frank, the battle of wits Jamal was trying to wage looked downright sloppy.
Aker had been a master of mind games who fought like a madman against the Knights of his era. If the battle of wits learned from the Magic Sword Tutor was like a wooden sword held by a child, Aker's was like a razor-sharp blade held by a master, cutting at the slightest graze.
Instead of gaining the upper hand, Jamal felt himself being pressured. While Jamal tried to scramble his opponent's mind with physical movements, Encrid layered his intentions through his Will.
In an instant, Jamal saw Encrid's sword aiming for his head, chest, legs, hand, neck, and shoulder all at once. It was a future a split second ahead, seen through his insight. At the same time, it was an impossible future.
A sword mincing his entire body simultaneously? It was a trick played by Encrid's Will. What he had learned from Aker was bearing fruit.
"You play some strange tricks," Jamal said.
If he stayed put, he wouldn't just get his chin grazed; he would likely end up with a hole through his chest. Thus, Jamal leaped backward.
This very movement proved his experience. In that situation, the decision to retreat was not an easy one to make. Once someone saw a future where they were cut, they were usually too busy trying to block the incoming attack. But by leaping back, the formless attack conjured by Will became meaningless.
Would it be different if he extended his Will further to strike? If the opponent had widened the distance once, could they not do it twice? Unless he wanted to play tag, trying any further was pointless.
Only after retreating did Jamal grasp the trick his enemy had played.
'With Will?'
Jamal had also reached this position because his talent overflowed. Therefore, he possessed the ability to recognize what his opponent had done at a single glance. Although he couldn't replicate the technique Encrid had just used, he understood the general principle behind it.
Not that it meant he wouldn't fall for it again.
'Troublesome.'
What should he do then? It was a situation where cold sweat could easily run down his back. And precisely because of this situation, Jamal felt a thrill of pleasure.
How long had it been since he last faced a situation like this? Ever since he first picked up a sword, there had been few who could match him. The first time he felt his life truly threatened was when he faced that monster, Barnas Hurier. That beastman was a literal monster.
Among his other opponents, very few had ever made him feel tense. Moreover, in recent times, he rarely had the chance to experience such things. Since Knights were not permitted to roam about freely, they rarely had opportunities to actually meet and fight enemies—let alone a Knight who could make him feel this tense.
Jamal openly expressed his ecstasy, but the face of Encrid, the very opponent who gave him this tension, remained perfectly calm.
"From now on, I'm serious," Jamal said.
Jamal spoke as he swung his sword again. It was an honest attack, devoid of any half-baked Orthodox Sword Style. He displayed a speed that left no room for thought. A sword that was fast, and faster still.
The moment Encrid felt Jamal's sword move, he had to react. The sword, which had previously mimicked the beating of a hummingbird's wings, abandoned its vibrations to focus entirely on speed, becoming a literal ray of light.
Encrid reacted to Jamal's sword. It was only natural, for failing to react meant death.
Seeing Jamal's sword soar vertically before slashing down, Encrid wound his blade around it to deflect and thrust. Jamal dodged the counter and swung his sword horizontally.
Clang, ping, cl-clang.
Sparks flew continuously between the two. It was a clash where anyone capable of properly observing the fight would find it impossible to declare a superior side. Even when Jamal seemed to be pushed back, he ultimately extended his sword. Thrusting and swinging, he managed to keep clashing blades.
Judging by the tricky trajectory and speed alone, Jamal's sword was far more threatening than the ghouls Encrid had encountered in the Gray Forest. It was a sword that could never be dodged by anyone who had not reached the level of a Knight.
Countless such strikes rained down. And Encrid weathered that entire downpour of blades.
Just as Encrid adapted to the speed and began mixing attacks into his defense, Jamal spoke.
"Let me tell you my specialty."
Jamal caught his breath and continued.
"It's better to die knowing than to look at me with resentful eyes because you died in ignorance."
Clang!
Their swords met once more, sending a massive shower of sparks flying. Blue and red sparks continuously shed light between them. A heat that pushed back the falling sunlight flowed around them. Within that heat, their boiling Will became a formless pressure, pushing away the surroundings.
The watching soldiers stood slack-jawed, completely dazed. One soldier even let out a sharp shriek as a pebble kicked up by their clash struck him in the head. From the outside, it looked like a raging storm. It was only natural, as those watching couldn't even properly discern how the blades were moving.
Amidst it all, a voice rang out.
"The name of my sword is 'Plunder'."
Jamal's imprinted weapon was not robust like Oara's sword, nor was it endlessly light like others. It was close to an ordinary longsword. Instead, the Will loaded into his sword absorbed and dispersed the opponent's Will.
In other words:
"Because of Plunder, I never tire."
When one realized Will and ascended to the rank of a Knight, the first thing they learned was their limit. As Jamal learned and realized that limit, a thought had occurred to him.
'What if I just take it?'
The reason such an ability manifested? Perhaps it was because, since childhood, taking things from his surroundings had been a natural way of life. Jamal had taken his brother's position and usurped his father's house. Though originally a bastard, he was now the master of his family. Had he taken even a slightly wrong turn, he might have ended up as nothing more than a bandit who was good with a blade.
A Knight accustomed to a life of taking—that was Jamal.
To delve deeper, the weapon Plunder was actually meant to disperse Will. Even if he took all the Will contained within it, it didn't truly become Jamal's. Will was not a force that operated in such a manner. However, he could make it appear that way to his opponent.
After all, the vibrating sword, the Orthodox Sword Style, and the high-speed strikes had all been mere setups to employ this very ability. Upon clashing, power was stolen. If the amount of Will originally loaded into a sword was one, the opponent had to expend three to face him.
'How long will you hold out?'
Jamal smiled with absolute confidence.
But Encrid hadn't been listening to his words for some time now. Through training, he was re-assimilating into his physical body what he had obtained within the world of consciousness with Aker. He was merely drawing it all out through real combat, demonstrating it over and over again.
The reason for doing so?
'This is insane.'
Because it was just too much fun.
Was this a kind of joy Encrid was experiencing for the very first time? Such ecstasy heated Encrid from within.