Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Southern Kingdom (7)
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The air split with a sharp crack, the shock rippling straight to my fingertips.
The moment sword met wooden sword, a crushing weight surged through my wrist and up my entire arm.
Far stronger than he looks.
I instantly shifted my weight to my right foot, tracing a semicircle in the opposite direction.
The wooden sword, infused with Wave energy, was lethal despite its blunt edge.
Not because it sliced through things.
The spot it grazed on a wrist caved in deep.
The instant it touched, the bones didn't just break—they pulverized.
"…!"
My grip faltered, and I kicked the slipping longsword away with my foot.
Moonlight glinted off the longsword as it arced high in the opposite direction.
Before I could squint shut against the blinding reflection and open again, I dropped low to the ground, sweeping the wooden sword in a wide circle.
Something burst with a wet pop where the wooden sword connected.
Four ankles shattered, throwing off their balance.
I gripped the splintered wooden sword and kicked off the ground, charging forward.
In each hand, a broken piece: the blade fragment and the hilt fragment.
Like twin blades, I faced down the massive man's sweeping curved sword.
"How... how is such monstrous strength possible...!! Without even accepting a god!!"
Grinding his teeth, the man sucked in a deep breath and hoisted his curved sword high overhead.
The blade arced like a waxing crescent, bounding over gaps to shave off flesh.
I deflected the wooden sword with spear-like finesse, parried it away, and seized the opening for a counter—
Thrusting once more.
As my back foot planted, I shot my arm forward, twisting the wrist gripping the curved sword.
The blade spun counterclockwise, just as it tried to rebound upward.
My fingers crossed in opposite directions on the shaft, slicing the space the wooden sword couldn't reach.
An upward slash that flipped into a downward double strike.
A nimble technique unfit for such a hulking frame.
Just before the downward slash grazed me, I hurled the hilt from one hand straight at the curved sword.
The hilt collided with the curved sword like a fastball.
An unbelievable clang for mere wood twisted the curved sword wide.
The unexpected impact threw the giant's arms off-kilter, shaking his stance.
I plunged into that gap.
In my hand: the blade remnant of the wooden sword.
Short—barely a dagger's length—but at this range, length meant nothing.
The era when sword reach mattered had long passed.
At breath's-touch distance, I said curtly,
"Brace your gut. Or it'll burst."
I decided to try something akin to what Franz had attempted in the qualifiers.
If before I'd summoned every possible Wave to forge a black one,
Now, I'd generate comparable power from a single thread of Wave.
I knew the method; the feel had just clicked.
I unleashed the Wave.
Not a thrust, but a graceful horizontal curve grazing the man's body.
I extended it into a circle, repeating the process endlessly.
Resonating with external forces, then resonating those resonances again.
I swung the blade at the unified single Wave.
I expected the man to be blasted back in an instant.
But something bizarre happened instead.
As he desperately kicked off the ground to retreat, his body was yanked forward into the Wave.
No strange attraction force at play.
It looked more like he'd simply returned to where he belonged.
"…!!!"
Before he or I could comprehend it, the phenomenon ended.
A boom erupted, and the man—gut-punched—flew backward.
Kwaaaaang!!!
He smashed through the house wall, soared dozens of meters more, and finally halted after embedding in several dozen trees.
A beat later, Irena returned after mopping up the remaining pursuers.
She stared at the shattered wall, the fainted man beyond, then at me.
Her gaze shifted to the wooden sword in my hand… ah, it was shattered.
As the wooden sword crumbled to dust in my palm, Irena fell silent, then murmured quietly,
"…Yeah, just. All done."
"I just finished too."
"Looks like it. You spared him, right?"
I couldn't answer.
I stared at the dust that had been a wooden sword moments ago, then at the fainted man in the distance.
Blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth.
"He's alive. …Probably."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Thankfully, the hulking man was indeed alive.
I bound the pursuers and tossed them into the warehouse.
Waiting inside: Kyle Bensut and two others.
The moment the warehouse door opened, the three thrashed their bound chairs like madmen.
"P-please, spare us…!! We repent, we repent!!"
I neatly ignored them and secured the three new captives to chairs with meticulous bindings.
I splashed a bucket of water on one to wake him first.
The hulking man—who'd appeared before me first—fluttered his eyes open faintly.
His eyes rolled over me, Irena leaning against the wall, and the prior captives. They widened.
"Y-you arrogant bastard…!! I don't know what foul technique you used to capture me, but the South won't forget this!"
He didn't seem to recall getting gut-punched into unconsciousness.
"Let's begin the interrogation proper."
But first…
I glanced sidelong at Bensut.
I needed help to make this quick and smooth.
Any more torture on this man, and he'd die.
His internals were already ravaged by the Wave; add torture, and his lifespan would halve.
"Bensut. Help me pry open his mouth, and I might let you go."
Bensut eyed the captured hulk.
His superior, apparently. Soon, he lowered his gaze and peeked up at me cautiously.
"For real. Really?"
"…What 'real'! Bensut, Kyle Bensut! You damned traitor! Betraying the South?!"
The hulk exploded.
Cowed by the outburst at first, Bensut soon tugged up one corner of his mouth.
"All tied up like this, you can yap all you want—we can't do shit, Boss Ran."
"Don't play games. You know the price of betrayal…!"
"Betrayal or not, cross the Sword Lord and you're dead. Speaking from experience."
Ran—what the hulk was called—resisted fiercely after that.
Claims of knowing nothing, vows not to talk.
A stream of lies, but he couldn't hold out forever.
In the end, Ran knelt before Bensut's eager assistance and my efforts.
"Asking again. Who sent you."
Ran spat.
Irena half-drew her Frost Spear, and he reluctantly grimaced, mumbling,
"…Direct from the Southern royal family's secret unit."
"Purpose?"
"Vessel retrieval. Orders to transport alive to the lab."
Vessel. He meant Luella.
"And the lab?"
The other prisoners sighed, eyes shut.
"Underground prison in the Green Woods north of Adel… That's our base. Not just a prison… Deep inside… there's an altar."
"Altar for what?"
"Just an altar. Don't know details. Only heard snippets about the experiment's goal."
"What's the goal. Don't make me ask twice."
"…"
Ran hesitated, then answered.
Uncertain, as if even he wasn't sure.
"God. They said it'd revive a god."
After the interrogation wrapped, we brought Luella to the barracks.
Our house was half-collapsed.
Sidor, living at the barracks, staggered out to greet us.
"Sword Lord. What brings you here in the dead of night?"
"Watch this kid for a bit."
"Uh, um? Knew you two were a couple, but didn't realize you had a kid."
"Not ours."
Sidor laid the sleeping Luella on the bed.
Sharing cat ears, he seemed to feel a kinship and began tending to her gently.
"What're your plans now?"
"As long as we have Luella, more will keep coming. Time to move."
This time, twenty-odd had raided the house.
Who knew how many next time.
Victory was certain, but Luella's safety wasn't.
That was when it happened.
The barracks gate slid open silently.
A chill night breeze carried a long shadow across the grounds.
"…As I thought. Sword Lord, your handiwork."
As I looked up from gathering gear, I saw Frostsword at the threshold.
Red stains flecked the hem of his long coat, swaying in the wind.
His expression was rigid.
"Frostsword. What's the late-night visit for?"
No answer. His hand drifted to the sheathed sword at his waist.
"…Hand that child over to me. For your own good."
Irena reached back, raising her Frost Spear.
Blood-tinged red frost spread in all directions, only to melt away repeatedly.
The thread of tension stretched taut.
I spoke calmly to Frostsword.
"Some beasts came sniffing around our home."
Frostsword let out a heavy sigh.
"One question. You with them?"
Before the words finished, Frostsword drew in a flash, slashing.
A razor-sharp iaido strike.
Instantly, a Beastkin who'd been lurking behind had his throat severed, head tumbling.
Frostsword stamped down on the spurting fountain of blood from the neck stump and replied,
"No. Quite the opposite."