Embracing, Dwelling, and Being Born (10)
Gaius Ritter Vane was the very model of chivalry. Though the man himself humbly waved away such praise, it was no empty flattery from his family trying to polish their own reputation. Among knights who tended to grow arrogant or self-centered as their power increased, he remained exceptionally upright and steadfast. His skill, of course, was beyond reproach. The grand tale of a wandering knight who roamed in search of a worthy lord, only to meet an elder deserving of his service and rise to become the commander of that family’s knight order, was a story known to those in the know even in Romania.
So when the family’s greatest swordsman—an idol to all other knights and a man acknowledged even by the family head—engaged in a formal spar with a foreign master? It was the kind of matchup that would set any warrior’s heart pounding at the mere thought. It was only natural that the knights, who had been training diligently, would toss aside their swords and come running. A duel between masters would provide invaluable nourishment for their own growth.
Yet the knights who had rushed over in anticipation of this master-level clash now found themselves speechless for an entirely different reason than admiration.
…Sword?
When Norde transformed his spear into a sword, puzzled expressions spread across the faces of the knights who had gathered to watch the duel between him and the commander. It was only to be expected. The unusual magic was fascinating and rare, but a sword of all things?
Of course, the knights who had been frequenting the training grounds lately already knew that he had suddenly begun drilling the family’s lower-ranking knights and was absorbing their swordsmanship. They weren’t blind, after all.
—Clack.
Sure enough, the stance in which he held the blade was indeed the Armaals family’s secret sword style. Yet the level of proficiency radiating from that posture was barely mid-tier at best. His torso stood straight with dignified bearing, but no one could claim there were no openings—even if their mouth were torn open saying otherwise. Against the family’s greatest swordsman, the same man who served as knight commander, that would prove a fatal flaw.
The faces of the knights who had reasoned this far gradually darkened with anger. They believed he was looking down on their leader. Anyone would have drawn the same conclusion. When fighting with the same technique, the superior practitioner wins. Even a three-year-old child understood that much. So to challenge a knight who had reached the master realm with the sword by using swordsmanship he clearly wasn’t familiar with? There was no point wasting breath debating its meaning. It could only be interpreted as contempt.
Yet the man actually facing that clumsy stance—Gaius—wore a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.
Knights with sharp instincts, regardless of their skill level, forgot their anger and refocused. They said a first-rate warrior could glimpse an opponent’s strength and intentions from posture alone. The knights encircling the sparring ground like spectators were, in essence, outsiders to this duel. There would be things only Gaius, standing directly in the arena, could perceive.
They had assumed the foreigner Norde was disrespecting their idol—but what if that wasn’t the case? What if Norde had something he desperately wanted to show them, even if it meant wielding clumsy swordsmanship to do so?
Gaius spoke as though he had no reason to feel insulted. Norde merely gave a silent nod. It was right then, as many of the knights tilted their heads at the commander’s expectant smile, that it happened.
……Clang!!
Without the slightest warning, the two warriors crossed blades and switched positions.
"Huh?"
"When did he—?"
The mid- and low-ranking knights who had missed the initial exchange began murmuring in confusion at the sight of both masters standing in the exact attacking posture their opponent had occupied a moment before. Though anger had caused them to miss an opportunity more precious than gold, they had no need to feel ashamed of their inadequacy. Even among those who had quickly recognized the duel’s value and sharpened their gazes, more than half had only managed to catch afterimages.
The truth was simple. Both warriors had charged at each other at the exact same instant. Norde had thrust; Gaius had delivered a horizontal slash. They had exchanged blows as swift as light itself.
Gaius flicked his sword clean and turned.
"Our family’s charge technique was mixed in there. Did you realize it on your own?"
"…No. I had the chance to see it recently."
At some point Norde had cloaked his body in mana as he answered. His response seemed slightly delayed for some reason, but Gaius roughly understood why.
Most of those who had accompanied Primor on her reckless quest for revenge had been mid-ranking knights or the family’s hired hands. The holy knight and upper-rank knight among them had lost his life, but the others’ techniques would have been on full display. Given the genius he knew Norde possessed, replicating them would have been child’s play.
But… it was a little faster than what I remember.
Gaius found himself smiling before he realized it. Something unfamiliar had been blended into the family’s footwork—the technique that condensed mana before exploding forward like a burst. Unlike his own charge that flew straight like a stone from a slingshot, this moved like a water skipper bouncing across a lake’s surface. That must be the technique this genius had created specifically to show him.
Just a little more! I want to see just a little more!
Unconsciously, his grip tightened on the sword. Gaius charged, drawing a wide semicircle with his blade.
Shwaaaaaack—!!
Gaius’s sword carved around him again and again like a barrier, constructing a domain of swordsmanship. From every single attack he unleashed, endless long-range slashes erupted. It looked as though blades were exploding outward with him at the center.
This was his personal ultimate technique—unleashing countless distant slashes that any swordsman below mid-rank could only produce by exerting every ounce of strength.
Sssssss……
A flower of razor-edged blades surged toward Norde. He evaded and parried the slashes raining down from every direction using footwork that was faster and more efficient than when he had charged. Even while Gaius was still swinging, Norde had already flowed into evasion and counterattack. Thanks to that, he displayed fluid, water-like dodges despite the relatively slow speed of his sword.
Gaius shouted with delight and reflected on two points.
The fact that he had unconsciously put too much power into the blade and used a stronger technique than intended was no issue. His opponent was a Mithril Class great warrior on equal footing with him. However, this was the same technique the family head had used to attack Norde due to a misunderstanding last time. Back then it had sliced through every one of Norde’s clones, but that genius would have dismantled it blindfolded. The foundation was similar even if he had fused it with other secrets.
The second point was that he must not attack first. If Gaius attacked in earnest, Norde would abandon the low-proficiency flying sword and rely on his own martial arts to evade and counter. That would rob Gaius of the chance to draw inspiration from the techniques Norde displayed.
To exploit his own longing and seize the advantage in battle? Gaius, genuinely impressed by Norde’s tactics, stopped his attack and shifted into a defensive posture.
Then Norde—sweating coldly at the nape of his neck as though he had barely survived a brush with death—began moving his sword as if preparing to charge. Most of the knights were mesmerized by Gaius’s dazzling ultimate technique, but the talented few who had missed Norde’s previous movement widened their eyes and focused their full attention.
The charge technique from the first move is coming!
This time I’ll observe it properly!
They had felt humiliated for missing Norde’s opening move precisely because they took pride in their own talent and skill. The glaring knights pictured how they would dodge and counter such an attack.
Yet one second later, they found themselves hallucinating their own bodies riddled with fatal holes.
Because Norde—who they had been certain would charge without fail—had stopped dead in his tracks and unleashed a downpour of thrusts.
—Pew pew pew pew pew!!
The mana blooming at the tip of his sword poured forth like arrows of wind.