The Guardian (2)
Lightning etched sharp lines across a sky stained the color of ink. A desperate torrent of magic raged like a tempest. It was a spectacle that caught the eye even from afar. Thanks to that, I didn't have to worry about losing my way.
That storm of mana was of a kind deeply familiar to me. A method of rapidly firing low-tier spells to maximize instantaneous firepower. Though mocked by other mages as lacking elegance, its efficacy in real combat was undeniable. I had always considered it Baron Isquente's personal trademark.
As the distance closed, the Baron came into view. My first priority was to assess the situation.
Still engaged with the demons. Everyone else is practically combat-ineffective. Quite a few casualties, too. Tsk, I'm late.
The carcasses of demonic beasts lay strewn haphazardly across the ground. There were quite a few of them. Using beasts as mere disposable pawns meant the enemy was, at the very least, a high-ranking demon. Judging by how most of them were charred to a crisp, Mary had clearly played her part.
Now, I was close enough that the demon had no choice but to react to my presence. Sirien's blessing enveloped my legs. Leaping from my horse, I vaulted high into the air and brought my greatsword crashing down.
Claaang! The two metals shrieked in protest.
Baron Isquente gasped out, his voice strained and pale.
"Sir Rajen! You arrived just in the nick of time! I'm sorry, I wish I could assist you further, but..."
"I know you're out of mana!"
"Yes, sir! Then I shall go tend to the wounded first. I leave the rest to you!"
While the Baron retreated, the demon continued to clash blades with me. He had an incredibly obnoxious face. I also didn't appreciate the fact that we used the same type of weapon. Despite his sleek, agile appearance, his swordplay was brutally direct—entirely my style.
"So it is you! The Calamity Sword of the North!"
"Yeah. It's me. Did you miss me?"
"My name is Nezra. I have been waiting for this very moment! You certainly do not disappoint!"
A high-ranking demon, indeed. His strength easily surpassed that of the lower-ranked Demon Kings. I couldn't overpower him with raw physical strength, nor was it easy to break his guard with technique. My arms vibrated with a dull numbness every time our blades collided.
Ordinarily, a human matching a demon in physical prowess was absurd, but at my level, the rules of common sense didn't apply. Up until now, I had crushed every other demon with ease. Yet Nezra's physical constitution was exceptional, even by demonic standards.
The only saving grace was that he showed no signs of casting magic. He probably couldn't—whether due to the circumstances or some other limitation.
"How thrilling! Truly marvelous! It has been far too long since I faced such a passionate swordsman. My kin offer nothing but dreadfully dull swordplay. This is precisely why I cannot help but adore humans!"
"Sure you don't just lack talent for magic?"
"That is also correct! As a reward, I shall show you the utmost respect from this moment forth!"
It was a deceptively simple, brutal contest of strength. A relentless onslaught raged as if we were both determined to grind the other to dust. I had Sirien's support, but he possessed the innate, monstrous regeneration of his kind. Unless I landed a fatal blow, a war of attrition would only work against me.
Trading flesh for bone wasn't a viable strategy here; high-ranking demons could regenerate even if they were sliced clean in half. A binary choice: bleed to make an opening, or forfeit the opportunity and retreat. In the micro-exchanges of our tactical duel, I found myself occasionally losing ground. That was usually my specialty. Having my own tricks turned against me left a sour taste in my mouth.
"Magnificent. Your blade is tempered so beautifully. You must have crossed the threshold of death countless times. How can humans, a species with such fleeting lifespans, be so wondrous? I feel as though I am falling in love!"
"Are you insane?! Don't talk to me like that, you absolute freak. A man shouldn't say things like that to another man."
I swung my sword in sheer disgust. Nezra took a step back, chuckling to himself. Fortunately, Sirien... didn't seem to be looking our way. After the recent 'Dersian Eshque' incident, I had learned firsthand just how terrifying a simple misunderstanding could be. Anger simmered deep within me.
"How cold. And here I am, being entirely sincere."
"Keep your sincerity to yourself."
"What a tragic shame. That a swordsman of your caliber does not love his rival. A warrior who possesses the perfect trinity of strength, skill, and experience is nothing short of a gourmet delicacy."
If clashing blades wasn't enough, I needed to change the rhythm. I shifted the angle of my sword and began weaving holy arts into my strikes. There was only one enemy, after all. If he were human, I could have integrated grappling into the mix. But snapping a demon's joints did little to slow them down, making that a useless endeavor.
While utilizing holy arts required keeping one hand free—a distinct disadvantage—I wasn't some novice who only knew how to swing a sword. The scythe of Hibras lunged toward Nezra.
"Still, how peculiar. Perhaps it is because you are both human, but though your styles differ, there is something strangely familiar about you."
"What kind of nonsense is that supposed to mean?"
"I am saying your swordplay is remarkably similar to a certain swordsman I once knew. Since you have only been active in the North, you likely would not know him. I suppose those who master the blade eventually begin to resemble one another."
Crunch! The atmosphere shifted instantly. His strike was far heavier than before. The holy power reinforcing my sword couldn't withstand the impact, and the edge chipped slightly. I had suspected he was holding back given his relaxed demeanor, and indeed, he hadn't been using his full strength.
This was bad. I could feel it instinctively. If I kept fighting like this, I would be pushed back. For now, pouring in holy power was enough to hold my ground, but to truly face him, I would have to start revealing my hidden trump cards one by one. The question was how much I should show.
Should I start with some minor tricks first?
The moment our blades clashed, I lunged forward. I pressed in close, locking our weapons so he couldn't easily pull back, and slammed my hand directly against the flat of his blade. For a split second, his defense was wide open. My sword lunged straight for Nezra's throat.
It was a technique I had only ever witnessed once before. Touching an opponent's blade directly carried an insane amount of risk, but it was a rare and valuable experience. Unless one possessed exceptional adaptability, their posture would inevitably crumble. Unfortunately, Nezra managed to find a way out and slipped away.
Nezra burst into a manic, crazed laughter.
"That move just now! *Pfft, hahahahaha!* Yes. Indeed. I see it now! It wasn't a mere coincidence. It has changed so much I almost didn't recognize it. I nearly missed out on a grand amusement. Oh, that would never do. Never!"
"This is why I hate demons. We clearly speak the same language, yet we can't communicate for shit."
"I know your reach. I know your techniques. I remember a swordsman who toyed not only with his own blade, but with mine as well."
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me. I had thought the demon was merely spouting nonsense, but... It felt as though something incredibly significant was about to spill from Nezra's mouth. I pressed forward, but Nezra retreated just as much.
Wheeeet!
A sharp whistle pierced the air, and demonic beasts began crawling out from the depths of the forest. While Sirien was busy tending to the wounded, Nezra had apparently been preparing his retreat. We had managed to put out the immediate fires.
Sirien's holy power began to actively cover me. Darkness fell upon darkness, and the demonic beasts that had been rushing us like a pack of rabid dogs collapsed one by one.
"Ahaha! It seems I must withdraw for now. I shall let that human live today. I would hate to spoil my fun in a place like this. Last time, the matter was far too critical, which made it rather regrettable."
An overwhelming horde of beasts, summoned from who knew where, surged forward like a rising tide. Nezra pointed the tip of his sword at me.
"You, the heir of Bertus. I once met the man who was your father. No matter how much a style is altered and refined, its foundation always remains. You have grown well in his image. You have become a splendid swordsman."
"You... don't tell me...!"
"Bwahahaha! Yes! I, Nezra, am the very one who slew your father. Without a doubt, it was the most exquisite moment of my life. My only lingering regret is that I had to share that pleasure with others."
My father. A man who was foolishly clumsy and knew nothing but the sword. I thought I had buried all emotions regarding my father, but facing his killer in the flesh, a murderous bloodlust boiled within me. Should I hunt him down and slaughter him right now? My rationality was on the verge of snapping. The careful calculations I had constructed in my mind crumbled to dust.
"Not right now."
It was Sirien who stopped me. With a face colder and more furious than even my own, she spoke, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.
"There are too many beasts around us. I cannot protect all of them on my own. We need these people."
"Indeed. Do not be impatient. I shall surely seek you out one day. It will not be long."
"I promise you," Sirien whispered. "I will make sure you get your revenge. I swear it on my name. Even if it costs me my life, I will chase him to the very depths of hell."
"I shall look forward to it."
Nezra departed. In his wake, the demonic beasts swarmed. Baron Isquente forced out the last of his strength to resist, but it was clear he was hopelessly outmatched. Sirien spoke in a trembling voice.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I was too weak. I'm sorry I couldn't let you go after him."
Her eyes were rimmed with red, and the hand gripping her lantern trembled violently. Seeing her like that, my murderous intent instantly dissipated.
You idiot. Revenge can wait.
Think about who matters most.
The person most precious to you is standing right in front of you, far more important than some damn demon.
Know that keeping the tears from your beautiful lover's eyes comes infinitely before spilling the blood of your enemy.
I offered her a nonchalant smile.
"What are you apologizing for? Don't cry. A lord shouldn't show weakness in front of their knight."
"Okay... Thank you, Rajen."
"Let's clean these things up first."
Fortunately, there was no shortage of things to cut down.