Chapter 49: The First Letter (49)
Chapter 49: The First Letter (49)
The axe blade lunged with fierce speed. A silver arc shredded the air in a straight line; the moment Delphine saw it, her instincts took over.
If I stay like this, I’m done. That axe hadn't been swung with the intention of stopping halfway. If it had, it would have been slower.
It was a high-speed strike, delivered without a shred of hesitation.
There was no time to be paralyzed by shock. Delphine snapped out of it instantly. The blade was already closing in, but it wasn't too late.
Her dagger was still coated in Aura. While it might be difficult to instantly pierce through bone in a body reinforced by mana, withdrawing the blade was no problem at all.
Her body spun, her white gown billowing out. Her dagger, retracted as if in a dance, crossed paths with the axe. It was a hair's breadth away.
With a sharp shlick, her shoulder was grazed. Blood would soon begin to seep through. But they were in the middle of a tense battle where a split second decided victory or defeat.
She couldn't afford to care. Delphine swung her dagger, carrying the momentum of her rotation.
The dagger shot out like a bullet, tracing a golden line. Delphine possessed the superior quantity of mana. No matter the difference in mass, her dagger would not be pushed back in a contest of strength.
The only problem was that her body hadn't fully regained its balance after the sudden spin.
A body with an unstable center of gravity could not display its full potential. It became vulnerable to external impact, and without power surging up from the lower body, her blade lost its edge.
However, no matter how much it lost its luster, a blade forged by a master always retained its lethality.
Even as Ian immediately attempted a follow-up strike, the speed at which her dagger met his axe blade was equal. Delphine grit her teeth and poured even more strength into the blow.
Because of that, her center of gravity shifted again, pulling her body toward Ian. It didn't matter. She would be pushed back by the rebound force anyway.
Delphine extracted a proper price for her effort. With a heavy thung, Ian’s hand axe was sent flying. Perhaps Ian hadn't expected a dagger thrown from such a broken posture to carry such power, for he lost his grip on the weapon.
The hand axe spun through the air. Of course, Delphine wasn't unscathed either. Her already leaning body couldn't fully withstand the aftermath of the collision.
Her dagger was knocked aside. However, losing one's grip entirely was different from still holding the weapon. Even as her body tilted back from the impact, Delphine was certain of her victory.
A flash of delight crossed her blood-red eyes. She even felt a slight tremor of excitement. Her heart fluttered just as it had the day she first saw a sword as a child.
This man is the real deal.
From the judgment to launch a surprise attack without hesitation, to the decisiveness of sacrificing his own hand, and even that temperament that refused to back down from a fight.
Could there be a better candidate for a hound? For the first time in a long while, Delphine felt a genuine desire to possess something.
But possession is the exclusive privilege of the strong. The weak are owned, and the strong own. That was the universal truth of this world. To have Ian, she first needed to break him right here and now.
Her foot slipped slightly. Then, with a firm thud, Delphine used that foot as a pivot to instantly regain her balance.
Only one thing could happen next.
A flash of light exploded outward. It was a speed the eye couldn't even track. And with that, it was over.
Before anyone knew it, the duel had reached its conclusion.
Delphine’s dagger was held steady against Ian’s Adam’s apple. If she applied pressure now, taking his life would be trivial. And yet, Delphine couldn't utter a single word.
Her eyes stared blankly up at Ian’s face. Ian was smiling. Because a cold, sharp edge was aimed right at Delphine’s throat.
A foul stench filled the air. It was the smell of flesh, pus, and blood burning together.
Delphine’s gaze slowly drifted toward her own neck. A blade was positioned there. Following that blade upward, her eyes moved toward the hand holding the sword.
It was a hand from which blood dripped steadily, drop by drop. The cause of the injury was clear. Delphine Yurdina knew it well, for she was the one who had inflicted that piercing wound.
The reality told by the result was undeniable. The moment Delphine knocked away the hand axe, Ian had drawn his sword with his injured hand. That was why, despite Delphine’s superior speed, he had been able to target her throat at the same time.
But how?
There was only one way. He simply had to endure the agony of a hand where flesh and blood were being seared together by a dagger's piercing, and draw the sword. But that was merely a theoretical possibility.
To make such a judgment in that split second was abnormal. The human body is fundamentally designed to avoid pain. This holds true even in the realm of the unconscious.
Even when reacting to sudden situations, humans subconsciously avoid painful choices. He must have been suffering from excruciating pain, yet he put strength into that very hand?
The mere thought was horrifying. It led Delphine to a ridiculous conclusion.
Is his sense of pain paralyzed?
That was why her eyes blankly scanned Ian’s hand and face. However, she was soon forced to discard that hypothesis.
His hand was trembling violently; the tremors were so severe it seemed he might drop the sword at any moment. It wasn't just his hand. The arm supporting it, and even the corners of his mouth as he wore a victor's smile—everything was shaking.
It meant he was feeling agonizing pain. He seemed to be pushing himself so hard that even the blade was rattling.
And yet, he smiled. For one reason only.
"Senior Delphine… my primary weapon isn't the hand axe, it's the sword."
Because he had managed to land a blow on Delphine Yurdina. The man’s smile conveyed that emotion vividly.
He had discarded his own hand solely for that purpose. And even though his unconscious mind must have revolted, he gripped the sword with that mangled hand. It was an astounding display of will.
No, perhaps even in his unconscious, he was obsessed with winning. Otherwise, that kind of reaction speed would have been impossible. A fierce competitive streak that suppressed even the body's instincts.
The result of that was now before Delphine’s eyes. His blade at her throat, and the chilling sharpness radiating from it.
Delphine, who had been staring at Ian with a dazed expression until then, could only swallow a hollow laugh and leave one remark.
"……You crazy bastard."
"Then what does that make you, Senior Delphine, for messing with a crazy bastard?"
Though his tone feigned composure, Ian looked as if he might drop the sword at any second. One look at the cold sweat beading on his forehead told the whole story.
Watching him, Delphine felt a strange emotion.
A sensation that felt like it was boiling over—she couldn't even tell if it was goodwill or hostility. But one thing was certain.
She wanted him. Even if she had to break him, she wanted to possess this man. Within Delphine Yurdina’s heart, the seed of that murky emotion squirmed.
And following right behind it was another feeling.
Humiliation. For her, who had always written a myth of undefeated glory, it was an unfamiliar sensation.
Thus, Delphine didn't know what kind of expression she should make. She simply forced the corners of her mouth up, as if imitating Ian.
"I don't know. Are you hoping I'll be a crazy bitch to match?"
"Not at all. Rather than that, please give us a ruling."
He was a tenacious man. He must have wanted to scream and throw the sword aside this very instant, yet not even a small groan escaped him, despite the clear traces of agony.
Through teeth grit to suppress the moans of pain, a question was tossed out.
"……Is this enough for me to have won?"
Delphine remained silent for a moment.
Did he win? Considering the gap in skill and the various circumstances, it was true that Ian should be awarded the victory by decision. However, Delphine Yurdina could not bring herself to admit that fact.
Her first defeat? No way.
Victory and defeat were decided only at the final moment. In this situation, where they were aiming at each other's throats, capable of taking each other's lives.
Delphine let out a soft chuckle and said, "No."
Ian’s brow furrowed slightly. It seemed he felt the evaluation was too stingy. Nevertheless, Delphine remained as confident as ever.
Pushing the humiliation aside, she wore a self-assured smile once more.
"At best, it's a draw—"
And the moment she tried to add something more.
Sshhh.
The gown that had been barely hanging onto her shoulders slid down.
Delphine’s eyes widened in realization as she watched the gown fall. It had been loosely draped to begin with. After spinning and tilting during the battle, Delphine’s attire had already become precarious.
In that state, she had allowed an unexpected blow. Ian’s hand axe, which had grazed her shoulder.
That had been the decisive blow. Having lost the support that kept it on Delphine’s body, the gown slid down as if it had been waiting for the moment, revealing Delphine’s pure white naked body to the world.
It was a moment where silence descended heavily.