Eclosion (1)
Throwing down a gauntlet and declaring one's name and affiliation.
No one failed to understand what that act meant. A declaration for an honorable duel. If I shed blood today, it shall be solely by your spears and blades, and the blood that stains my sword must likewise be solely yours.
A declaration that carried such meaning.
An honorable declaration handed down since ancient times.
The moment Najin spoke those words, the ambushers narrowed their eyes. Some furrowed their brows; others let out sighs. And Klaus, who had once been a knight of the kingdom, wore a bitter smile.
An honorable duel.
A declaration that suited this situation not in the least. Yet precisely because it did not suit, the words carried weight. Klaus let out a long breath.
They themselves were ambushers as cowardly as they came.
That was an undeniable truth.
Trailing, eavesdropping, traps, stealth, ambush—they had carried out things far removed from honor without hesitation. Worse still, it had never been one-on-one; it was the method of many ganging up to crush a single man. There could be no honor in such an ambush.
If one is a knight…
It was something that ought to be regarded as dishonorable.
Something over which one must feel shame. Yet for humans, goals often arise that must be achieved even while bearing dishonor and shame.
Everyone gathered here was the same.
Some because hostages had been taken, some because their own lives were held as collateral, others because their lord's honor or their comrades' honor hung in the balance—they stood in this place. Even if they fell to the level of dirty hunting dogs and assassins, they stood here because there were things they had to protect.
Of course, that was only their own circumstances. Not something for which they should seek understanding from that young man. Right now they were nothing more than cowardly ambushers.
Even so.
That young man had declared that this would be an honorable duel. Even if the declaration was merely to firm his own resolve, a knight still had the duty to answer it.
Thud!
Klaus slammed the ground with the lance he held. Striking his chest—the place where his heart lay—with his fist, he shouted in a booming voice.
"I am Klaus Aten!"
If one bore the name of knight.
If one had been a knight even for a time.
There was a duty to answer the young man's declaration.
"Fifth Wing of the Kingdom of Prolea, Commander of the Blue Wing Cavalry, Klaus Aten."
My battlefield has ended.
My comrades have been cast into the mire, branded heretics in the name of God and stripped of their honor, but—
"Knight of Atanga, squire of Ivan, Najin!"
The journey of the Blue Wing Cavalry must not end with a period like that. To reclaim their honor, I would cast aside my own as much as needed. I am fully prepared to hurl this body into the mire.
"I accept the duel."
Klaus raised his lance and leveled it at Najin. Even if there was no honor in this battle, there was still something each side must uphold for the other. It was reason enough to cross spear and blade.
Thud, thud, thud!
Starting with Klaus, those who had once been knights, those who had once held honor, each declared their affiliation and status. Shouting thus, they charged at Najin.
And Najin simply readied his stance as he watched those rushing toward him. In the forest where the sun had set and darkness lightly settled, sword aura, aura, and mana flashed.
2.
A certain Sword Master of the past once said:
A Sword Seeker is one who has already stepped beyond the bounds of humanity yet has not reached the realm of transcendence. From the vantage of a Sword Master who had attained that transcendence, it was mockery—yet put another way—
It also meant that a Sword Seeker was already a powerhouse who had long since left the human category far behind, a being who defied common sense. Proof of that was unfolding before Najin's eyes right now.
BOOM!
The ground shook with a sound like an explosion. But no bomb had gone off. Klaus Aten had simply stamped the earth. Every time he took a step forward, the ground quaked and a roar rolled out.
Commander of cavalry.
A mounted knight who needed no horse.
The swift knight, Klaus Aten.
The leg strength of the man once called that was beyond imagination. From the instant Klaus kicked off the ground he became a cavalryman astride a warhorse, a chariot sweeping the battlefield.
"…!"
Najin's eyes flew wide as he hurled his body aside. The speed was incomparable to the earlier assault on the carriage. Rather than try to meet it, Najin chose evasion—and that choice was correct.
Thud, CRACK, KRAAAAASH!
The moment Klaus shot past right beside him, the whipping wind pressure sent Najin rolling across the ground. Belatedly the sound of tall trees snapping and toppling echoed through the air.
Rolling up onto his feet, Najin saw the great trees smashed to pieces along the path Klaus had taken, the footprints stamped deep into the earth—and far off, another heavy thud rang out. Klaus had already reversed direction and was charging again.
CLAAANG!
But Najin's enemies were not Klaus alone.
The sword Najin reflexively swung clashed with Jerold's. Jerold Oton, demon hunter and Sword Seeker who wielded a greatsword. The instant the blades met, Najin felt as though his knees were about to buckle.
Ka-krrrrrk!
Twisting his blade, Najin slipped free of Jerold's pressure. The moment the locked swords parted, Jerold's greatsword scythed through empty air as if a taut rubber band had been released.
Then—
Crack.
Even though the tip never touched it, the trunk of a great tree several paces away split open. The shattered giant toppled slowly; when it struck the earth the ground heaved and a cloud of dust billowed up.
But mere tremors could never halt a Sword Seeker. Parting the dust, Jerold strode forward; smashing the fallen timber underfoot, Klaus came thundering in.
And Najin—
Najin, who had chosen this stage himself, exhaled. The moment he opened his eyes again, blood vessels stood out starkly in them. His heart hammered faster than usual. Thump, thump, thump—blood surged through his entire body—
Kiiiiiiing!
Najin's sword aura roared. Around the violently rising blade-light, star-clusters glittered with soft tik, tidik sounds. Aura carrying fragments of his mindscape shone in the dark forest.
Physical reinforcement pushed past its limits.
A sword gleaming with shards of mindscape.
From the very first moment Najin poured out everything he had and kicked off the ground with fluid grace. The first step was smooth; from the second onward it turned savage. He raced across earth that shook as trees toppled one after another.
Towering trees.
Fragments of split timber.
Branches stretching in every direction.
To Najin this was the ideal environment. If there was any area in which he could seize the initiative against Sword Seekers, it was precisely terrain like this—a place thick with variables where he could fully exploit unpredictable movement.
From long ago, making use of such ground had been Najin's specialty. Trailing a swarm of pure-white light, he leapt and leapt again. Jerold scowled and stamped the earth with a raised foot.
A heavy thud rolled through the ground.
Immediately a ferocious sword aura erupted along Jerold's blade. The greatsword that had felled countless demons, its thick edge trailing afterimages as it swept. A high-speed cut forged by strength beyond human limits.
KRAAAAAAASH!
Trees across an entire stretch split apart. The tree Najin had been standing on collapsed, and the youth atop it lost his balance and plummeted. There were those who did not miss that fall.
Seven Sword Experts charged at Najin.
They had already finished their judgment from watching his movements. They themselves could not kill him. Therefore they would seize his ankles, strip him of mobility, and buy time. That was the best they could do.
Once the judgment was made, all that remained was to act.
They thrust their swords at Najin and lunged to grab his legs. If they could win even a single second, the lance of Klaus, already hurtling in at terrifying speed, would run him through.
That was what they thought, and Klaus and Jerold had reached the same conclusion.
But there was something they had overlooked.
"……"
Mid-fall, Najin twisted his body in midair—as if he had never lost his balance to begin with. Stabilizing himself while still airborne, he landed and swung his sword in the same continuous motion. There was no distinction between landing and cutting.
Shhhk.
The Experts' blades, aura and all, were sheared clean through. Severed swords. A shattered encirclement and the openings it left. Immediately Najin moved in a blur of afterimages. The Experts could not even register a motion that fast.
"Ghk!"
"Guh!"
By the time they came to their senses they had been cut, kicked, or hurled into tree trunks and the ground. Bones broken or limbs severed, they were no longer able to fight.
All of that had taken one second.
Having cleared the Experts from the field, Najin let out a short breath and dropped into a low stance. At the same time he sprinted straight at Klaus, who was already charging toward him.
Full-speed charge into an oncoming cavalryman.
Madness. He would be trampled. Watching Najin race head-on, Klaus burst into laughter. Come on, then. Try to stop my lance. As if shouting that challenge, he poured on still more speed.
Thud!
Aura coiled around the razor-honed lance—the equivalent of a swordsman's blade-light—and formed the shape of a gigantic awl. The landscape that occupied Klaus's mindscape was the valiant charge of cavalry he had witnessed as a boy.
He looked as though he himself had become a single spear.
Aura heavy with Klaus's mindscape billowed. Answering it, Najin kicked off the earth as well. The instant he reached top speed he slammed his foot down, dropped low, and swung his accelerated sword at Klaus.
Ka-krrrrrrrk!
Lance-edge and sword clashed, sparks flying.
Aura and blade-light tore at each other. Najin's foot, planted in the ground, plowed up clods of earth as he was driven backward. Even while being forced back without end, he clenched his teeth and twisted his blade.
Spear tip and sword edge slipped past each other.
Sparks showered as the weapons crossed.
A wet thwuck of flesh bursting rang out. The moment Najin and Klaus passed each other, Klaus's lance grazed Najin's side. Even a graze punched a hole and blood erupted.
Yet Najin was not the only one bleeding.
Klaus, who had shot past him, wheeled with a sharp shhhk. Turning, he clutched his own side and laughed aloud.
"Ha!"
In the instant the weapons crossed, Najin had gone for the hand gripping the lance. Had Klaus not shifted the weapon's trajectory, half his hand—thumb included—would have been gone. Offering his own flank in exchange for the enemy's hand—Klaus clicked his tongue at the ruthlessness of the tactic.
He clamped a hand hard over the deep gouge in his side, crushing flesh to seal the wound, and glared at Najin.
The single exchange during the carriage ambush.
And the movements Najin had just shown.
Klaus Aten raised his evaluation of the youth by another full step. What stood before him was no Sword Expert merely approaching the level of a Seeker. In every respect save the quality of his aura, the young man already equaled a Sword Seeker.
He was not approaching it.
He was already a powerhouse of Seeker rank.
Klaus was not alone in that impression. Jerold felt the same. The seven Experts were already out of the fight; only the two of them remained.
"Jerold."
"I know."
Their gazes crossed.
Both men sensed it. The youth had not thrown himself into a reckless fight. He stood there because he truly believed he could win against two Sword Seekers.
Then they would answer him in kind.
A sacred duel had already been declared. There was nothing left to hold back. Klaus twisted the hand gripping his lance. With a metallic click-clack the three-meter weapon shortened by half.
No longer the cavalryman who swept the battlefield.
A stance meant only to bring down the single enemy before him.
Feeling the atmosphere shift in an instant, Najin exhaled. Something was within reach. If he took just one more step—one more half-pace—he could grasp it. Holding that thought, he kept both Klaus and Jerold in his field of vision.
Whether this duel would prove a loser's arrogance—
or a victor's confidence—
would be decided by his sword alone.
As always, a swordsman was one who proved himself with the blade. The aura rising along Najin's sword was sharper than it had ever been.
3.
Basaus Malek, who had been swinging twin swords, had at some point begun to sweat cold. Every time the blades clashed, blood burst from his body.
I knew.
He clenched his teeth and swung again.
I knew Roselyn Ascalo was strong. I knew that much, but…
Spilled blood soaked the ground. His clothes were already dyed red. Driven far back, Basaus dragged in ragged breaths.
He had never imagined it would be this bad.
The moment Roselyn started to step toward the retreating Basaus, arrows and magic lanced toward her. Each attack was lethally powerful, yet—
A spin, and CLANG.
Roselyn flicked the short blades in her hands once around, then smashed them together and neutralized every projectile. The echo that rang out when steel met steel. Riding that resonance, her amplified aura shredded the incoming attacks literally to pieces.
A Sword Seeker-level archer.
And a mage who had reached the Fifth Circle.
Even with both of them supporting him, all they could manage was to pin Roselyn's feet for a moment. Basaus ground his teeth at the fact. Of the three steps required to become a Sword Master, she had climbed only the single stair of Sprouting—and already the gap had grown this wide.
"I was expecting a little more when I heard you were a twin-sword Sword Seeker."
Roselyn strolled toward Basaus at her leisure.
"Pretty disappointing. Got anything else?"
"Ha…"
He answered her taunt with a sneer.
"This isn't the time to be so relaxed, Roselyn."
"What?"
"My goal from the start was to hold your feet. If I just buy time, I've already succeeded."
The victory conditions had never been the same.
"If you can't join the fight, that kid dies. Definitely. Hell, it might already be over."
"……"
"The one who shouldn't be taking it easy is you—rather—"
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
Roselyn cocked her head.
As if she genuinely could not understand.
"Why would I go over there? Me, join up? You're seriously mistaken about something…"
Roselyn Ascalo smiled.
"My contract is to grab you lot by the ankles and hang on. Not to protect that brat. Though I am thinking about cutting your heads off while I'm at it."
That's as far as it goes.
She shrugged as she spoke.
"Besides, he doesn't need my help anyway."
"What? What do you mean—"
Before the operation began.
Roselyn had faced Najin once more. And the Najin she had seen then—
was already complete.
One step. Truly just one step.
Cracks had already run through the cocoon that held him. Only a single step remained before he broke free and eclosed.
"That brat, you know."
Roselyn laughed.
"Even before he became a Sword Seeker, there was already nothing—except aura quality—where a Seeker had the edge on him."
A monstrous kid.
A Sword Expert who not only matched Sword Seekers but intended to beat them. And if a kid like that stepped into the realm of the Seekers…
"One slip and you're done for. Not him—you lot. You."
That would already be—
a being that could no longer be explained by ordinary standards of what a Sword Seeker was.
Roselyn Ascalo was certain of it.