The Great Duel (5) — Finale
"Narinhun!"
The sword came flying at him. A blade steeped in emotion — any true swordsman could feel it.
Are you angry?
Good, if so.
Then I will meet that feeling head-on.
Steel met steel, and sparks scattered into the air.
Narinhun could not contain his satisfaction as he shouted.
"You've grown stronger, Bestiarii!"
He could feel the depth of the swordsmanship Vesta had achieved. But more than anything, what pleased him was this: Vesta's individuality had not faded. His blade still flashed like lightning, striking where no one expected, slipping through every guard.
"You could comb the entire Steppe and find only a handful of swordsmen your equal!"
And that singularity, surely, was his alone.
Narinhun moved like a ravenous beast closing in on prey, chasing every gap in Vesta's guard, eyes wide and blazing.
There. I can see it.
Vesta's swordsmanship was far from flawless. It was not the kind that shut out every opening — it was the kind that said, go on, try to get in.
That's what it's telling me.
Countless gaps stood exposed, and they seemed to give off a sweet fragrance, like flowers baiting a moth. Narinhun held his patience. He knew full well there was intent behind those openings.
Which one is real?
He couldn't be certain. He would have to stake the fight on it. Rather than judge, Narinhun trusted his own good fortune and his instincts.
Clang—!
"It broke!"
Vesta's face twisted as he readied his next move.
I need something sharper.
Just as Vesta was no longer the man he'd been, Narinhun's power had changed too — better in every respect. His technique, yes, but his body as well. His reaction speed. His eyes. The sensitivity of his hands — his senses as a whole. His footwork. All of it had stepped past the boundary of what a person could do.
You never fought like a man. Even now, you're closer to a beast that simply knows how to kill.
Unchanged. Still a beast — only more cunning now, grown into something incomparably more dangerous.
Fast. Supple. Sharp.
Vesta had been a Bestiarii, a slayer of countless monstrous beasts.
Not one of the beasts I ever faced was like you, Narinhun.
Even he marveled. He acknowledged the danger of the great beast called Narinhun.
You said you carry a wolf inside you. Is that why?
Those freely flowing legs — no human movement could follow them.
But then.
Narinhun. Just as you took a wolf into your body... I took in the sword of a Sword Saint.
He knew it too was a blessing nothing short of a miracle.
"Let's find out, then."
A sword forged in the arena now flowed along the free, unbound trajectories of the Steppe.
Shing—
He let the annihilation-laden attack slide past him, then flipped his blade and thrust.
"Ha."
Thud.
Narinhun slammed into the ground, and because of it Vesta's sword failed to run him through — but it proved the thrust was anything but powerless.
"You."
Narinhun's mane and braided hair scattered on the wind. The two men wheeled around each other slowly, like a gathering whirlwind, the gust between them.
"You don't disappoint me."
Distance meant nothing.
Clang—!
Their blades met, and the waist of the whirlwind was severed.
"Are you planning to hoard your flame?"
Vesta gave no answer, and Narinhun grinned and swung his sword.
A swift, efficient blade. If that blade had been forged with no teacher at all, then the man carried a natural-born genius for murder. Just as Vesta did.
"How long do you intend to hold it back?"
Just as Narinhun said, Vesta had not drawn out his flame. His sword simply lay black and dead, as though charred by fire. Only a violent blaze would strip the soot from that blade.
Not yet. Isn't that right?
Somehow he felt he understood its intent. Narinhun had not shown his full strength either — and the sword was saving its power for that moment.
So he had to fight alone.
Sweat dripped down, drop by drop. His breathing grew slightly ragged. There was no room to catch his breath — that luxury was only permitted in sparring practice. This was a fight, and Vesta had stood on this ground to end it.
He watched Narinhun's feet. The foot advanced, the foot withdrawn, where the weight settled — if he could read that, he could read the man's intent.
It's coming.
Clang!
Sparks — damned things flew into his eyes. He forced his reflexively closing eyes open. The instant Narinhun's blade touched his, Vesta remembered Tei's swordsmanship. The twin-blade style.
His empty left hand seized the second sword at his waist.
Shing—
The paired blades were unfamiliar. But he felt it — the answer rising in him.
Remember that day. Remember.
He brought his trailing leg forward and drew the sword out in one swift motion.
"Twin blades?"
Alarm bell through Narinhun's instincts.
The rasp of steel climbing out of its sheath — in Narinhun's sense-world, swollen taut with bloodlust, it rang out like a struck bell.
Narinhun twisted his waist. The point of the blade grazed the skin of his belly.
Too shallow. It hadn't carved out his entrails — both men felt it at once. Narinhun dragged the corner of his mouth upward and drove a knee up at Vesta.
Vesta had committed both hands to the attack. There was no hand left to block the knee.
Not the jaw, not the nose. They'll shatter.
A broken jaw meant instant unconsciousness. A crushed nose might not knock him out, but it could cripple his breathing — which meant defeat all the same.
Take it on the forehead if I can.
It would hurt like hell, but it wouldn't put him out of the fight.
Just as he braced for the impact and tucked his chin—
"Baatar!"
Boom—!
Via came tearing in, dragging a storm of dust behind her.
"Get out of the—!"
She split the two apart. Narinhun crossed blades with Via, while Vesta came face to face with the wolves that had chased her down.
"Kgh!"
The wolf's bulk beggared imagination. He avoided taking it head-on and threw himself aside — sharp stones drove into the back of his neck.
He pushed himself up out of the dust. Via seemed to have fallen away again.
My vision's clouded.
Not good. In a situation like this, Narinhun with his sharper senses would—
Swumm.
The dust split apart. Narinhun's sword came flying, and Vesta, eyes snapped wide open, swung both blades.
"More!"
Eyes drunk on rapture, Narinhun pressed him. Vesta fought to keep from being swept away by the man's madness.
Still not the time? Is that it?
The sword gave no answer.
Fine. So be it.
Then I'll manage this side of things myself.
Vesta swung both blades at once — one for Narinhun's neck, the other for his belly. He was reproducing Tei's swordsmanship.
You can't dodge this, Narinhun.
Break through it, or produce some other miracle. If he could do neither, the fight would end here.
"Yes — more!"
Narinhun gave a different answer than the one Vesta expected. He aimed for the empty space between the two blades and drove his leg out.
A kick to Vesta's stomach, meant to shake him off entirely. A sound judgment — that way, Vesta's sword couldn't cleave Narinhun's neck.
At last the kick came flying, and Vesta twisted his waist to the side.
Crack—!
White-hot pain as his hip wrenched — but he didn't go flying.
I'm not a centaur. I can't do it like Tei.
Copying his technique exactly would never be enough. He had to go one step further.
So my counter comes my own way.
He used the folding force of his wrenched hip to bring his blade crashing down.
Blood sprayed.
"A fine strike."
Narinhun's arm had caught the blow — and blood was surging freely from it now.
"Ha."
The moment the breath left Vesta's mouth as a sigh, Narinhun seized him by the throat and hurled him.
His body left the ground. Tossing a man one-handed — that was an absurd, obscene kind of strength.
Thud—!
Vesta coughed and pushed himself upright.
"Not... easy."
"Not enjoying yourself?"
"You absolute lunatic."
Narinhun chuckled, rubbing his hands. He flexed his fist open and shut, then looked up at the sky.
"Is the sun up already?"
Just as he said, the sky had turned red. Dawn must be breaking.
"Hm?"
The sky darkened again.
"What—?"
The sun was blinking. There was no other way to describe it. Something deeply wrong was happening.
Narinhun spoke.
"Move."
"What?"
"A dragon is coming."
What nonsense. No dragon was in sight — not behind Narinhun, not beside him.
"Above."
Enemy in front of him or not, Vesta lifted his head.
That is—
"Baatar!"
Via. She came charging in and wrapped her arms around him — she hadn't even cared about turning her back to Narinhun as she ran.
For a moment he couldn't make sense of anything. Face buried in her chest, he thrashed.
"Hold still, please!"
Fear. There was fear threaded through Via's voice.
Via is afraid.
As far as Vesta knew, she was a woman who didn't know the meaning of fear.
"Over here!"
"Ushun?"
Ushun's voice rang out. Had Ashtien sent her?
"Give him to me!"
The world lurched and spun. Her face flashed past through the swaying blur of his vision. Ushun pulled Vesta into her arms with all her strength and dropped flat to the ground.
"Ushun."
Still pressed against the earth, she stroked his hair.
"There's nothing to worry about."
And then—
KWAAAAAAAAAH—!
A colossal wave of heat seared across the ridge of the mountain.