Chapter 233: You Won't Be Able to Handle It (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 233: You Won't Be Able to Handle It (3)
Her prediction was wrong.
She had misread the direction Calian was heading. Anyone else would have been momentarily dazed, their footing lost.
Of course, Demirea reacted differently.
She snapped her head toward the sword flying in from the opposite direction. As if a mistake could be easily corrected, Demirea, who had just swung her sword to the right, twisted her body. Channeling all her strength into the balls of her feet, she swung her sword toward Calian, who now stood directly opposite her.
Instead of meeting Demirea’s heavy, powerful attack head-on, Calian slid across the ground, his movements swift as he maneuvered his own blade. He struck not the tip of her sword, where her strength was concentrated, but the flat of the blade itself.
Clang!
With a long, ringing clash, Demirea’s sword was thrown off course, shaking violently. Seizing the moment, the dark-red tip of Calian’s sword seemed to split into countless branches, aiming once more for her neck and heart.
Clang! Clack! Clang! Clink!
They lunged and retreated in a dizzying succession. One sword, filled with a stubborn refusal to yield, clashed against another—a greedy blade intent on exploiting every single opening. They relentlessly targeted each other’s weaknesses.
Clink! Clang!
Pulling back her extended sword with all her might, Demirea ducked to dodge the incoming attack. A few strands of her short hair, which had slipped loose from their tight binding, were sheared off by the sharp aura and drifted to the ground.
Demirea’s eyes darted, watching not the tip of his sword, but Calian’s shoulders and the movement of his feet. Having correctly read his next move, she lunged toward him, determined not to be beaten by his speed again as she drew up strength from her core.
With that, she delivered a blow containing the greatest power she could muster. The weight behind her attack generated incredible speed, which in turn added even more weight to the strike.
Whoosh!
It was fast, yet heavy. The power traveled from her feet to her legs, up through her waist and shoulders, and finally into her hands, flying forward as if to cleave Calian’s chest in two.
Calian’s foot lightly tapped the ground.
The dark-red tip of his sword landed softly on the spine of the incoming silver blade. Then, it slid upward, brushing against it. Without absorbing the force, he let it slide away completely, scraping along the back of Demirea’s sword from tip to hilt.
Screeech!
A long, intense friction sent sparks flying. A chilling screech echoed from the dark-red sword as it scattered them in all directions. Only after Calian had closed the distance to Demirea did the air-rending sound of her powerful silver blade finally ring out.
Just before being blocked by the guard of her sword, the dark-red blade changed direction in less than an instant.
Having neutralized the swift and powerful blow, Calian lightly tapped the back of her sword hand with his blade’s tip. A shallow cut appeared on the back of her hand, which had failed to dodge the light attack—the first one not aimed at a vital spot.
Clang!
The fresh wound made Demirea’s grip falter for a split second. Not missing the moment her strength wavered, Calian’s sword struck hers away.
With a soft gasp of “Ah,” a long red line of blood appeared on Demirea’s neck.
“Don’t make careless assumptions.”
Thud!
The heavy sword slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
“If you don’t want to die,” Calian’s voice followed.
*
Standing at a distance, Kyrie turned his head from the pair. His heterochromatic eyes shifted from Calian, who was now examining Demirea’s sword, to Franz, who still hadn’t looked away.
Feeling as though he understood why, Kyrie spoke first.
“Are you committing it to memory?”
Only then did Franz turn his gaze, giving Kyrie a single nod.
“Their exchange was quite long. Do you remember all of it?”
“I do,” Franz replied, breaking his silence.
Calian had crossed swords with Franz and Kyrie many times, but their bouts had never lasted this long. Because he was trying to deliver a real fight, a spar, and a lesson all at once, it had naturally taken time.
And Franz remembered all of it, from beginning to end. However, that didn’t mean he had captured every single exchange.
“I assume you couldn’t quite follow all of the Prince’s movements. Am I correct?”
Franz looked up at the man who had become Calian’s knight with nothing more than a letter of appointment, without any grand oath or ceremony. He nodded, hiding nothing.
“He is still… too fast.”
“If you don’t mind, I can demonstrate the swordsmanship the Prince used today.”
Although Franz had watched the entire exchange, he hadn’t been able to track all of Calian’s movements. But Kyrie was different. He had crossed a certain threshold; while he still couldn’t block or parry Calian’s attacks, he could at least follow them with his eyes.
Faced with this unexpected kindness, Franz stared at Kyrie with quiet, sunken eyes. Looking at the man, who was as tall as the birch trees in Chermil Palace’s rear garden, he was reminded of tiny Hina, who looked as if her older brother had stolen all her height. Thinking of the single commonality between the siblings he had thought shared nothing, Franz spoke in a low voice.
“What a strange pair of siblings.”
“Why are we strange?”
“Because you are alike.”
As he spoke, his green eyes drifted forward again, toward Calian, who was saying something to Demirea that Franz couldn’t hear. He didn’t notice the utterly baffled expression on Kyrie’s face as the knight shut his mouth tight.
“Without any reason. Like that. Continuously.”
“…Did you think my offer, or Hina looking after you, was unwarranted kindness?” Kyrie asked, having finally grasped the meaning behind Franz’s words.
“Whether it is unwarranted… or undeserved.”
Swallowing the rest of his thought, Franz turned back to Kyrie. Then, he gave a slightly delayed response to the offer.
“Let’s go. To Wilhelm.”
“Is it alright to go now? Vice-Commander Hertz will probably look for you again. I won’t forget, so we can meet after you finish your schedule.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Truly not caring at all about the blue-haired mage, Franz picked up his sword and walked away. He wondered if Demirea’s sword or his own was heavier now, realizing it was hard to tell.
*
Only after losing her sword did Demirea realize she was out of breath.
Exhaling a few short breaths, she bowed slightly to Calian.
“Thank you.”
She felt no resentment about losing. She had experienced Calian’s swordsmanship firsthand once more, and she knew all too well that there were no shortcuts on the path of the sword.
Calian possessed far greater skill, despite her own considerable efforts. It seemed to be a difference in innate talent. She briefly considered being envious but quickly decided against it.
Don’t push yourself too hard.
Was chasing after someone any different from envying them? If she envied him, she would only end up overexerting herself. She decided to just relax, have a cup of tea, and rest for the day.
Now that she knew the exact gap in their skills, all she had to do was swing her sword again tomorrow.
“If I keep following, I will catch up. And once I do, the day will come when I surpass you,” Demirea declared, her thoughts spilling out.
Calian didn’t question her sudden remark; he simply nodded. It reminded him of Bern saying something similar to his own swordsmanship teacher, Teilan.
Calian walked over and picked up the fallen sword himself. He tested its weight, noting it had become much heavier since he’d last seen it in the Siegfried territory. He looked apologetic when he noticed the blade was slightly dulled. Winning the spar was one thing, but damaging her sword was another.
“Ah.”
Then, realizing that wasn’t the only thing he should apologize for, he pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.
“Sorry, Demirea.”
Moments ago, his aura had burned with enough killing intent to swallow her whole, yet now he had instantly returned to his usual gentle expression to apologize.
Seeing Calian standing there with a handkerchief in one hand and her sword in the other, Demirea smiled faintly and took her weapon first. As someone who handled blades, minor cuts didn’t bother her. Besides, there was someone who would treat her right away.
“I can just go to the Wilhelm Pavilion. You don’t need to worry.”
“Alright.”
As if he had truly decided not to worry about having just drawn a red line across his fiancée’s neck, Calian smiled and took her at her word. After all, Demirea’s mindset was more knight than noble—and Calian was no different.
“There is no one in the Siegfried territory who wields a sword as fast as you, Prince. I learned a lot.”
“There probably isn’t anyone in Kairis either,” Calian replied, his thoughts drifting to Teilan. Oblivious to the fact that he had just said something that would have earned him a smack on the back from Alan, he nodded and continued, “I learned a lot, too. You’ve really improved.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s definitely different from Duke Siegfried’s style. Of course, the Duke was holding back when we fought, but your swordsmanship seems even trickier.”
“A lighter style of swordsmanship is also passed down in our family. We learn both, of course, but the sword I wield is slightly different from my father’s.”
“I see,” Calian murmured, nodding.
As if by unspoken agreement, neither of them discussed the spar itself. He had already shown and taught her enough, and Demirea had fully grasped everything he had tried to convey. Both of them possessed that level of skill.
“But your sword is a bit damaged.”
“The man named Rotten you introduced me to is highly skilled. You don’t need to worry about that either.”
Demirea explained how she had brought the blacksmith Giggs, the former owner of the Rotten Forge, into her mansion. Hearing that she had outright hired the man he had recommended, Calian chuckled. It was an action so incredibly characteristic of Demirea.
“The training of the knights is also proceeding without issue. When do you plan to bring them into the palace?”
“Are you sure there are no Brissen affiliates mixed in?”
“Yes. It seems Count Aprin took great care. There is no one suspicious.”
“Good.”
Hearing praise for Aizen Aprin, who was helping him gather and train knights, Calian looked as pleased as if he were the one being praised.
“If you get the chance, you should meet Count Aprin as well. He’s a good man. I’d like to summon him to the capital, but it would draw too much attention.”
“Yes. But what about Gray Brissen…?”
“We’ll discuss that later.”
Demirea, who was about to ask when he planned to bring Gray Brissen to the capital, shut her mouth. Recalling that Kyrie was standing a short distance away, she nodded in understanding.
Just then, a drop of sweat clinging to a curly, blonde strand of her hair—the exact same shade as Yan’s—fell to the ground. Only then did Calian realize he had been inconsiderate again. He smiled brightly and channeled his mana.
“Just a moment.”
Mana, carrying an energy completely different from the chilling sensation of his sword’s aura, brushed past Demirea.
Her sweat dried, and the heat on her skin cooled.
Freed from being drenched in what was the most she had perspired from tension in recent memory, Demirea curled her lips in satisfaction.
“Magic certainly is helpful.”
“Is it?”
Well, it was. It kept him clean no matter how long he went without washing, making it great for working overtime. It left no smell of alcohol, so he didn’t have to worry the day after drinking. It even removed tea stains from his clothes.
And it got rid of cat hair.
“…It really is helpful,” Calian muttered to himself with a chuckle, then looked back at Demirea. “Can you come back after seeing Hina for treatment? We can have a meal, take a walk with my fiancée, and talk.”
“Yes, I have time.”
Ignoring his half-hearted mention of his fiancée, Demirea nodded. In truth, she was too busy reflecting on her shortcomings during the spar to pay it much mind.
Consequently, she completely forgot her earlier plan to return to her mansion for a quiet cup of tea. She also overlooked the secret-laden remark Calian had let slip about Kairis and didn’t think twice about why the energy from his sword and his magic felt so vastly different.
Unaware that he might have just narrowly escaped another one of Alan’s smacks, Calian grinned. “Don’t be late. Let’s eat something delicious.”
He still loves food, even after he stopped hiding his aura. He must be going through a growth spurt.
At the thought, a pleased expression settled on Calian’s face.