Chapter 534: Walking a Path Without Walls
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 534: Walking a Path Without Walls
Jamal judged that time was on his side. Therefore, he didn't even need to swing his sword with all his might.
His sword, Plunder, would gradually drain his opponent's strength.
Those experiencing it for the first time always turned pale. They wouldn't realize what was happening right away; Plunder worked like a mouse nibbling away at cheese. Then, at some point, their legs would suddenly give out.
When that moment came, their faces would go white.
Watching that expression wasn't exactly Jamal's primary source of pleasure, but it didn't feel bad either. After all, seeing that face was the signal of victory, so it was only natural to feel relief and a sliver of joy.
Moreover, when the opponent was strong enough to make his blood run cold and keep him on edge, yet the outcome was predetermined to be his victory, how could he not enjoy it?
Now, this is where it really begins.
As he explained the nature of his imprinted weapon, Plunder, Jamal steeled his resolve.
And why wouldn't he? Once an opponent realized their strength was slowly draining, they were left with only one choice: kill him before their strength ran out.
Furthermore, Jamal wasn't alone. He was surrounded by crossbow-wielding soldiers and Frok, who was practically an associate knight. Taking Jamal down wouldn't end the fight; every factor was a burden to his opponent.
To prepare for the inevitable desperate charge, Jamal took a defensive stance. He tightened his grip on his sword and readied himself to hurl a shortsword from his waist the moment an opening appeared.
The strategy was simple: withstand the opponent's fierce onslaught without giving them a single moment to catch their breath. It was a tactic designed to corner the opponent even further. The more frantically they moved, the sooner they would reach the limit of their Will.
They would hit their limit far sooner than they normally would. It was only natural, as a fierce attack required a greater expenditure of Will. In other words, explaining Plunder's ability had been a calculated move.
Jamal had released the poison of impatience into his opponent's mind.
He planted his feet firmly, lowered his center of gravity, and raised his sword upright. He even activated a scroll hidden in his breast pocket—a palm-sized spell scroll containing a protective charm that would block a single attack capable of reaching his armor.
There was no harm in being cautious. Utilize everything available. Jamal did exactly as he had learned to survive all this time.
Simultaneously, in his mindscape, he imagined shackling his opponent's feet. Those shackles would grow heavier and heavier, soon making even lifting a foot off the ground feel like an agonizing chore.
Having completed his preparations, he moved, but Jamal was met with a situation vastly different from his expectations.
Encrid did not unleash a fierce onslaught.
His sword was not particularly fast compared to before. It was a blade plunging honestly from top to bottom. Though slow, a heavy pressure rose around it—sticky and constricting. It was the Crushing Sword.
What is he counting on?
What on earth was he thinking, acting so leisurely?
Jamal activated his Will to shake off the crushing pressure, physically parrying and deflecting the downward strike with his own sword.
Chirrrng.
The deflection was so smooth that not even a single spark flew. It was an excellent display of the Soft Sword Style.
This was Jamal's ultimate weapon: deflecting an agitated opponent's strikes over and over again. Through this, the opponent would gradually fall prey to Plunder, collapsing under the poison of impatience. It was his greatest tactic.
Wasn't this why even Barnas had called him a troublesome opponent?
“To defeat you, a quick decisive battle is a must, tsk.”
If one didn't settle the duel quickly, their strength would drain. Yet, Jamal's Soft Sword Style was outstanding even among knights. On top of that, he had fortified his defense with every means at his disposal. The scroll was merely one of them. If necessary, Jamal could throw daggers or circle around his target to buy time. He was fast on his feet, and he knew how to use assassin tactics.
All of it exploited the opponent's impatience.
But what was this?
What is this bastard doing?
Jamal didn't show it outwardly, but he felt a wave of bewilderment. Despite the situation, Encrid didn't look impatient, wasn't gasping for breath, and wasn't flustered at all. He was simply swinging his sword with an expressionless face.
The only thing that had changed was... his expression?
He wasn't smiling, but to Jamal, it looked as though he was deeply focused and enjoying himself. Looking closely, there was no doubt.
What are you so excited about?
He acted like a young boy holding a real sword for the first time. His face was completely absorbed, lost in play.
Staring at that face made the thrill Jamal had felt seem cheap and vulgar. Even though the end was predetermined, his opponent was simply enjoying the present moment, whereas Jamal had merely been enjoying a false tension with a guaranteed victory.
Feeling so small, he couldn't help but flare up in anger.
“Are you insane?!” Jamal roared, swinging his sword.
Encrid's Valerian steel sword clashed with Plunder once more.
Clang!
The sound of the clash was noticeably quieter than before. The atmosphere didn't vibrate, nor did the air tear apart. Instead, the blade in Encrid's hand, emitting a faint blue light, moved like a snake. It wrapped around Plunder in a flash before stabbing Jamal's shoulder.
Thuck.
The moment Jamal realized he had been stabbed, he leaped backward. It wasn't a deep wound; it had only pierced a portion of his pauldron and grazed his skin. Still, a sense of frustration washed over him.
Damn it.
He had been bested in the psychological war. Or so Jamal thought. Since the bastard had gained the upper hand for a split second, he would surely pounce without giving him room to breathe. Jamal had shown a weakness. Though it was only a shallow wound, he had been completely outplayed in that last exchange.
It was his turn to be pushed onto the defensive from a disadvantageous position.
But Jamal's prediction missed the mark once again.
Encrid didn't rush in. Instead, he swung his sword through the empty air a few times, sheathed it with a clean clack, and drew another sharp, awl-like sword.
First was the Gladius, next was the Valerian steel sword, and the third was the elven-made sword, Spark.
Encrid held the drawn sword before his face and thrust it straight forward. It was a strike faster than sound. Jamal summoned a superhuman level of concentration. Whether he felt cheap thrills or not, he was still a knight.
Jamal twisted Plunder upward to block. At the same time, sensing an ominous premonition, he pulled out a magic weapon from behind his back. It was a defensive shortsword with a wide blade called a Guard Sword, but it was much wider than a typical one. It almost looked as if he were holding a blade-shaped frying pan.
It might have looked ridiculous, but anyone who treated it as such would be a fool. A shield imbued with a protective spell had essentially appeared in the knight's hand. Jamal fully intended to hunker down and block.
His judgment was correct.
Spark, clashing against Plunder, poured down in a relentless torrent of dots and lines. It was slightly faster than the rapid swordplay Jamal had displayed earlier. Jamal's hands grew frantic.
Clang! Cl-cl-cl-clang!
To shave away his opponent's Will with Plunder and make it look as though he were absorbing it, Jamal usually had to consume his own Will at an extremely slow rate. Only then would the opponent fall into the illusion that their Will was being stolen. That was part of his tactics, but he had no leisure to conserve his Will and pretend to be fine now.
If he slipped up even slightly, he would end up full of holes. He was literally too busy blocking.
Cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-clang!
Their battle had been a close contest with sparks flying continuously, but the sparks flying at this very moment surpassed anything before, resembling a raging storm. From the center of their clash, the air tore apart, creating a bizarre current that pushed the atmosphere outward. Not only that, but the surrounding ground gouged, trees exploded, and boulders split apart.
“Fall back!” General Frok shouted.
It was a wise decision. If they stayed, they would die a dog's death just from watching the two fight. They had to retreat just to survive. The thought of intervening to fire a crossbow bolt didn't even cross Frok's mind. How could he shoot when he couldn't see a thing? Should he shoot and leave it to luck? What if he hit his ally's back?
To be honest, it didn't seem like either of them would get hit anyway.
Even as the soldiers retreated, the two weapons flew without rest, clashing and hungering for each other's flesh. Amidst the rapid clatter of steel, a sharp, ringing screech mixed in, and between those, explosive booms erupted. Along with the explosions, something flew over the soldiers' heads—a piece of armor.
To Frok's eyes, it did not look like it belonged to the enemy.
*
Encrid demonstrated the Crushing Sword with the Gladius, used rapid thrusts and Single-Point Focus with Spark, and employed various techniques utilizing intimidation and pressure through the Valerian steel sword.
This wasn't the end.
He used unorthodox moves, such as gripping the blade to use the hilt like a blunt weapon, and added the Valen-style Mercenary Sword to the mix. He added to his opponent's confusion by mixing his breathing at will, even showing a 'Deceptive Breath'.
When he pretended to gasp for air, Jamal's eyes gleamed for a moment. Seeing that, Encrid returned to his normal breathing. Jamal's pupils shook violently. His eyes, realizing he had been tricked, screamed: This son of a bitch...?
His hands and feet were too busy to leave any room to open his mouth.
Furthermore, when Encrid displayed the Valen-style Mercenary Sword Three-Sword Style...
After threatening with Spark, he suddenly let go of the sword and threw a Whistle Dagger, causing Jamal to startle and twist his body like a stepped-on earthworm. Encrid threw a second Whistle Dagger at Jamal's waist. At close range, the throwing dagger technique he had learned from Sachsen exploded into action.
Whistle!
Along with a short, sharp sound, just before the dagger could pierce his waist, a flash of light erupted near his belt and the dagger was deflected. The scroll containing the protective spell had done its job.
Encrid didn't know this. Nor did he need to. He was simply enjoying the present.
In addition to this, he used Shadow Thrust and Double Draw.
Clang, shriek!
Having blocked the Double Draw, Jamal suddenly saw a sword held in each of Encrid's hands. It was the Valen-style Duet.
The two swords moved with different breathing and tempos. The Valerian steel sword in his right hand crushed down with the Heavy Sword Style, while Spark in his left hand thrust in with blinding speed. Holding his breath, Jamal blocked and blocked again with the sword he had drawn as a makeshift shield.
I'm being pushed back.
Jamal realized it. And Encrid was still enjoying himself.
And why wouldn't he? Everything was unfolding exactly as he desired.
His extending hands, his trained techniques, his insight from Sensory Technique—everything worked perfectly. His opponent was entirely occupied with blocking, and even those reactions fell within Encrid's expectations. Thus, there was no reason for his hands and feet to slow down.
This was his first time experiencing such a thing.
In Encrid's world of swordsmanship, falling, collapsing, and struggling desperately were the defaults. Getting thrashed and beaten, yet stubbornly crawling forward anyway—that was the sword Encrid had learned. That was the path he had walked until now. Forcing his way forward, no matter what.
But now, it was different.
Everything he had learned and mastered unfolded effortlessly. For the first time in his life, Encrid walked a path without walls blocking him. He walked a path free of thorns. He walked a path where the scorching sun did not torment him, and the biting wind did not howl.
How could he not find joy in this?
As a knight, Jamal did not possess exceptionally outstanding skills. He was an opponent with broad, though not deep, knowledge. He was the perfect training partner.
Unleashing what he had learned, manifesting what he had mastered—Encrid was thrilled, completely immersed in the moment. Starting from what he had learned inside the World of Consciousness created by Aker and tracing backward, everything he had polished and honed until now left scratches on Jamal's body.
Under the sword strikes he failed to block in time, pieces of Jamal's armor shattered and burst apart. Due to the pressure generated by the storm, fragments of armor flew outward. The tip of the blade Jamal used as a shield broke, and cracks appeared on Plunder.
It was proof that the conviction held by the knight named Jamal had been shaken.
“You monster... why aren't you running dry?”
For Jamal, this was a first. His tone was filled with sheer resentment.
An inexhaustible Will?
Wasn't that something that only appeared in legends? The opponent right before his eyes was demonstrating that legend in the flesh. He squandered his Will. It was drained by Plunder. Yet, it did not run dry. It was just as it had been at the start. No, he seemed even more excited.
Jamal foresaw the end. Encrid saw the same. Since the insight of both men saw the exact same future, there was no possibility of it changing.
Before long, Encrid ended the duet, sheathed the two swords he had retrieved, and held only Spark. Jamal discarded the broken Guard Sword and gripped Plunder with both hands.
Encrid extended his left foot, boldly thrusting his body into the range of his opponent's sword strike. His feet crossed as they propelled his body forward like a single arrow being shot. It was the Arrow Step.
Just before Plunder could cleave the spot where Encrid's head had been with a vertical strike, the sword in Encrid's hand pierced Jamal's neck first.
Thuck!
Parting bone and flesh, the tip of Spark severed a portion of his cervical vertebrae and emerged from the back of his neck. Spark, now a crimson rod, retracted as fast as it had thrust.
Whoosh. Jamal's sword fell powerlessly.
Encrid had already completed his thrust and stepped to the side, completely evading Jamal's final strike.
Before Encrid, who stood poised, the corpse of the man who had been the knight Jamal tilted forward and collapsed. Until the body hit the ground with a heavy thud, none of the onlookers could utter a single word.
Was it an overwhelming difference in skill? It would be more accurate to say it was a terrible matchup. However, who among the onlookers would know that?
Only the sheer intimidation exuded by the existence named Encrid weighed heavily over the clearing.