Flying Sword (4)
The blue sweet potato’s veins bulged on his forehead as he raised his sword high.
Man, that’s one hell of a sincere attitude for learning. If he’d been like this normally, he wouldn’t have had to show up even on his days off.
I wonder if those bastards get weekend pay.
Kiiiiing—!
I activated Odin’s Eye, putting to use the reflection I’d had when the knight commander ran away earlier. The mana gathering at his feet took on a familiar shape. It was the spring jump that Primor’s escort knight had used.
He’s planning to dash in. But the activation is way too slow.
It had already been two full seconds since the blue sweet potato picked up his sword. Two seconds. It might sound short, but it was actually a long time. Just imagine a Major League batter standing there spacing out for two whole seconds after lowering his bat. Two seconds was definitely not short.
In real combat where victory or defeat could be decided in an instant, two seconds was more than enough time for three attacks to fly in and still have change left over. It was so ridiculously pathetic it was almost touching.
Well, what could you expect from a guy who only ever did supplementary training?
At this level, I didn’t even need to keep Odin’s Eye on.
On the third second, the sweet potato charged. His speed was pretty fast, but a technique I had already completely seen through was meaningless no matter how quick it was.
Let’s start with this one first.
I clasped my hands behind my back and unfolded the evasion footwork I had learned from the Heswald sisters—the Master’s Escape step. It was a movement technique I had figured out while doing phantom thief stuff, then refined further by dodging Tirse’s space-cutting magic in battle.
—Whoosh!!
The footwork that had completely given up on fighting and gone all-in on running and dodging was worth every bit of that sacrifice. The moment I slipped sideways, his sword sliced through empty air like a kid pretending to be a Power Ranger swinging a toy blade.
The blue sweet potato, who had uselessly slammed his practice sword into the training ground floor, grabbed his numb arm and frantically spun toward me.
When did you my ass. You dashed in so fast you couldn’t even hit the brakes.
Alright, next up is this.
I sent a low kick flying at the stunned buzz-cut head. It was a technique I had—well, not stolen, but respectfully paid homage to—from the dark mage Correntus. A kicking martial art that attached a blade of mana to the tip of the foot and performed Capoeira-like non-flying movements. Since I obviously had no intention of killing him, I left the blade off and just kicked this time.
—CRACK!!!
The tip of my shoe sank into the blue sweet potato’s thigh. To him, it probably felt like his thigh muscle was being split apart. He couldn’t endure it and dropped to one knee. It looked exactly like a knight swearing an oath of loyalty.
Fucking impressive. The speed at which he switched owners after I gave him a little “proper education” was insane.
I let out a small chuckle.
It was just an eyeball estimate, but the amount of mana I was using right now was about equal to what he possessed. There were several reasons I practiced mana equality. The first was that if I won too overwhelmingly, it would stop being a spar and turn into straight-up assault. No matter how annoying he was, he was still a knight of the old man’s house—I couldn’t turn him into a cripple.
The other reason was that the levels had to be similar for it to count as training for me too. What was the point of a bear seriously fighting a human in a sparring match?
Apparently extremely embarrassed that he had fallen to one knee, the completely pissed-off buzz-cut finally brought out his real fighting spirit.
—Swish! Swish-swish!!
While I leisurely dodged the orderly sword techniques with a single palm’s width of distance, I let my mind wander.
Through the Absorption Great Law pipeline connecting me and the blue sweet potato, the usage method of that sword style was flowing into me. I was finally starting to grasp exactly what kind of swordplay the knight commander had shown me before bolting.
Sweet.
The absorption rate was excellent. I was going to suck him dry all the way to the marrow.
It felt exactly like the “directly transmitting knowledge into the brain via USB” fantasy I’d had while preparing for the CSAT back in my third year of high school. Truly, sufficiently advanced magic could no longer be distinguished from science.
The blue sweet potato swung his sword in a huge arc once again. He was swinging with everything he had, but since I kept dodging so leisurely, it looked like his eyes had rolled back in his head.
Even though the mana we used was similar, the gap in level between him and me was simply too vast. Every technique I had learned—excluding Beast Regression—was special S-rank martial arts. The level and efficiency of the techniques were as different as heaven and earth, and my combat experience completely overwhelmed his. There was no way I would get hit by a blind sword.
I slipped my palm into the sword’s trajectory as if clapping.
—Clang!!
The blade that had been aiming for my shoulder was caught in my palm. Just like it had been caught between the jaws of a beast.
This was another technique I had respectfully borrowed from Correntus.
Having his sword caught bare-handed, the blue sweet potato was so shocked his breathing fell into disarray. Of course, I couldn’t just block a lump of iron with nothing, so this time I layered Inner Armor over my palm using the principles of Blood Hand Demonic Art.
And since I was already using Blood Hand Demonic Art, I decided to add the claws of Beast Regression to the beast-jaw style technique and swing it. Since I couldn’t let them find out I was Yesugei, I left out the flames. To others, it would probably just look like an ordinary hand blade.
CALAMITY END
—Kaang!!
When a first-class fist technique was added to the kicking and punching methods of Blood Hand Demonic Art, the steel sword snapped cleanly in two.
—Clatter, clatter, clatter.
The broken half of the sword spun through the air, scattering sparks, before it fell to the training ground floor with a metallic clang.
The Red Rain of Berlin that I had learned back in my pathetic adventurer days had now evolved to the point where its power and hardness were in no way inferior to a steel sword.
…Thud!
The moment I muttered that, the buzz-cut knight pitched forward, his eyes rolling back as he fainted. There was a slight dent in the leather armor covering the solar plexus of his training gear.
While breaking the sword and passing by, I had reflexively punched him right in the solar plexus. The cause was that I had been too focused on combining the martial techniques and had mercilessly exploited the opening.
…Guess I’m still a bit sloppy.
I smiled bitterly. I had won comfortably because my opponent was simply too weak, but in my own eyes, it was far from satisfactory.
There were too many holes in the linking between techniques.
For example, the evasion footwork Master’s Escape. It was a technique that couldn’t be used while attacking, but it was an undeniably OP movement skill. I wanted to use it to dodge attacks that were hard for me to block, then immediately switch into a quick counterattack. After all, I had finally gained a proper evasion technique instead of just tanking everything with my body like I always did against slightly stronger opponents.
But when I actually tried linking them, the movement kept cutting off awkwardly. The sudden change in speed exposed openings. It felt similar to not being able to drift around a curve and having to slow down instead.
Amateur warrior Nord—slight self-reflection.
Anyway, if I want to use Aura, I’ll need to train the mana catheter inside my body too. This is the perfect opportunity.
—Whoosh!!
I shook my hand blade as if flicking blood off a sword. Until I called the knight commander back, I now had sandbags I could use for personal training. It was an unexpected stroke of luck.
Having an opponent who reacted immediately was definitely more helpful than training alone. After all, I couldn’t throw punches this freely if my opponent were one of my wives.
Smiling with a sense of accomplishment, I gestured at the other knights who were, for some reason, looking utterly despairing.
—Step. Step.
Gaius Ritter Vane was walking toward the training ground with light steps for the first time in months. It was because Primor’s pregnancy had been officially confirmed as not an unfortunate accident.
It had already been over two months since his lord lost his son. And as if that weren’t enough, after the young master’s death, his wife Primor had burned with vengeance and even run away from home.
For the past two months, everyone in the Armaals family had to walk down the corridors as carefully as if they were treading on blades.
But that stifling time was finally over.
The only heir who should have carried on this family had met a tragic death. However, at the very least, he had been able to leave behind a child for the wife he loved and the father he respected before he passed.
The fact that the child in Primor’s womb was his biological offspring had just been confirmed by the testimony of the archbishop who had come from the Pomona Church.
Would it be too exaggerated to call it a flower that bloomed at the end of tragedy?
What remained for Gaius was to serve and protect his lord so that he would not meet an external death until Primor’s child grew up to become great. Fortunately, Gaius was filled with the will to devote his entire pride to that task.
His lord, Cornelius, had also laughed with great joy.
That was why Gaius was on his way to call Nord—so that he would not be late for dinner with their lord.
Of course, strictly speaking, such a trivial errand was far beneath the duties of a knight commander like Gaius. But right now, he felt he had to serve his lord with even greater devotion than before.
Since Gaius believed that Nord’s opinion might help him break through the wall that had blocked him, he headed to the training ground without the slightest hesitation. He wanted to ask the master, who was at least his equal or perhaps even greater, about today’s results.
I wonder how much of our family’s sword style he has already seen through.
Gaius swallowed his saliva with a mix of anticipation and worry.
Warriors who had reached the realm of mastery like Gaius or Nord could grasp the strengths and weaknesses of an enemy’s martial art just by watching it. It was simply looking down from above. If one couldn’t even do that, becoming a Mithril Class in the first place would be difficult.
Although he had only shown it briefly out of consideration for his guest’s pride, if Nord had reviewed the sample Gaius displayed while swinging his own sword, he would easily be able to guess what kind of sword techniques could be derived from those seven stances.
If possible, I had hoped he would request a spar with me rather than mere instruction…
But that was not a request a guest could make first. Clicking his tongue in slight disappointment, Gaius was walking toward the training ground when he suddenly stopped upon hearing vigorous shouts coming from inside.
Wait, were those really battle cries?
As a sword master, Gaius quickly regained his composure, but the doubt did not disappear. Honestly, they sounded more like screams. Even during extreme training, such miserable shrieks rarely came out. Involuntarily, Gaius’s steps quickened.
What the hurrying Gaius witnessed was a scene as shocking as those screams.
Nord, holding a sword, was sitting on the back of a low-ranking knight who was doing push-ups and yelling at the top of his lungs.