Chapter 83: The Lord is With Us (4)
Chapter 83: The Lord is With Us (4)
Combat immersion.
When concentration reaches its absolute limit, time begins to flow slowly. It is a moment where every sense is heightened, and even the resistance of the air feels alien.
Some called this "Swordsman’s Time." It was a realm inhabited by those who relished close-quarters brawling and teetered on the edge of life and death. There was no disagreement that many of the residents of this alternate time axis were swordsmen.
Yuren was living proof of that. The world captured by his vision was slowing down significantly.
In the instant his blade emitted a cold light, a silver line traced a path from the scabbard. Even if one were to split a second into a thousand fragments, witnessing this lightning-fast draw should have been impossible. Yet, Yuren knew.
He had been caught.
Ian’s golden eyes were already fixed on his blade. In this frozen world, those eyes seemed to be the only things moving.
The relaxed atmosphere Ian had maintained while holding his teacup vanished instantly. The cup soared into the air, and through the opening, a flash of sword light erupted.
The silver line collided with the rising blade. A sharp clang rang out as sparks flew into the air. The rebound force caused Yuren’s sword to bounce back slightly.
Yuren’s eyes narrowed.
He had struck first, yet he was late. Based on what he knew of Ian’s skill, the man shouldn't have been able to react to this speed.
However, Ian had not only parried the blow as if it were natural but had already drawn his hand axe. Yuren, unable to fathom his opponent's intentions, couldn't find the right response.
Ian’s intent was revealed immediately. His hand axe swung down without hesitation, buried deep into the dining table.
With the sound of splintering wood, the small table that had stood between them collapsed.
At the same time, wooden shards flew in every direction. Instinctively, Yuren took a step back to avoid the debris.
That was his mistake. Like a beast that had spotted its prey, the man’s figure surged forward. Ian, who had already sheathed his sword, now held only the hand axe.
Using a short weapon in close combat was usually tantamount to suicide. In any battle, a longer reach was an advantage. There was only one exception.
When the gap was too narrow.
Yuren realized his error and tried to widen the distance, but it was already too late.
Clang!
Metal clashed against metal, blurring his vision.
Because it was short, the hand axe was fast. Ian embroidered the air with the axe like a seasoned conductor. The continuous ring of collisions felt almost like music.
Within that rhythm of steel and sparks, Yuren was left struggling just to parry the blows.
He was being swept away. Yuren felt as if he were possessed by a ghost. There had only been two exchanges of offense and defense, yet his disadvantage was glaringly obvious.
If nothing happened to turn the tide immediately, he would be on his knees within minutes. His hands were already growing numb from deflecting the axe.
They were at point-blank range. Just as Yuren hesitated, wondering if it would be better to abandon his sword entirely—
"Yuren!"
The Saintess’s voice rang out. A pure white radiance seeped into Yuren’s body. Simultaneously, his physical abilities exploded.
A flash of joy crossed Yuren’s eyes. Yes, he needed this reversal.
A crack appeared in the rhythm of Ian’s continuous attacks. Yuren’s reaction speed had become too fast. His movements were now incomparably agile.
He slipped backward as if retreating, and once he secured enough distance, he immediately kicked off the ground.
A silver flash of the sword drew a straight line.
The blade shot forward, cleaving through the atmosphere. It was a strike of terrifying speed, one that seemed to slice even the sonic boom in half.
It was a sudden acceleration. It was bound to be difficult to deal with. The sword was flying twice as fast as the speed Ian had grown accustomed to.
This will land. With that conviction, the moment Yuren took his step—
Whoosh.
His sword cut through empty air.
Ian had shifted his body to the side. As if rotating on an axis, Yuren’s sword grazed past him. But Yuren couldn't understand it.
He was too late. By the time Ian had taken his step, Yuren’s sword was already right in front of him. Yet, as if space itself had distorted, Yuren found himself propelled past, cutting only the void.
However, the time given to Yuren to process this was too short. He grit his teeth.
Using his planted foot as a pivot, he swung his sword in a diagonal upward slash from his unstable posture.
Sparks flew instantly. A sharp, metallic rupture echoed as the two blades met.
It was as expected. The hand axe had already been closing in. Ian’s eyes, as he swung the weapon, were calm without a single tremor.
It was as if he were chopping the neck of a chicken.
But Yuren was no easy opponent. As the sword and axe collided, he used the rebound force to spin his body. And finally, he felt certain.
In terms of pure physical ability, Yuren had the upper hand. Even though he had struck from a single-footed, unstable stance, they were evenly matched. If so, a strike delivered from a proper stance would be overwhelming.
Yuren’s eyes flashed fiercely.
Having regained his footing, he prepared to swing his sword horizontally.
That is, if the hand axe hadn't already lunged at him. If he didn't block the horizontal swing of the axe, his head would likely be split like a log.
Defense came first. In the split second his sword was raised—
Crunch.
A sound that shouldn't have been heard echoed.
Yuren’s wide eyes bore witness to his shock. Following his gaze, Ian’s hand axe was buried deep in his shoulder, spraying blood.
It was impossible.
The axe had been swinging horizontally. Yet, its path had suddenly traced a vertical line like a plunging waterfall, mangling Yuren’s shoulder. It was a movement that defied the laws of physics.
But then, a name flashed through Yuren’s mind.
He had always been deeply interested in swordsmanship, and thus he was well-acquainted with all the strange and wondrous techniques across the Continent.
Just as he was about to groan out a name—
"The Sword Cir— Gaaah!"
Before Yuren could finish his sentence, a blade flew like a flash of light and pierced his other shoulder. Unable to endure the pain any longer, Yuren let out a scream and collapsed.
Blood poured from both shoulders. With his shoulder joints shattered, further combat was impossible. It seemed the battle would end with Ian’s victory.
That is, if not for the strike that suddenly approached from behind.
It was a straight punch. The fist, launched at terrifying speed, was a weapon in its own right. It was a surprise attack from the Saintess.
Though it was a secret to the public, the Saintess had learned the secret martial arts of the Holy Kingdom for self-defense. Even by just enhancing her physical abilities with Divine Power, she could overwhelm mediocre swordsmen.
When combined with the grappling arts practiced by monks, her combat power was naturally formidable.
However, as if he had already known the punch was coming, Ian tilted his head to dodge it. The fist whistled through the air.
A follow-up attack was sure to come. Yet, Ian didn't even flinch.
Because before that could happen, something struck the Saintess from behind.
It was the teacup. The cup he had tossed into the air at the very start of the fight flew toward the Saintess’s head, tracing a bizarre trajectory.
Bewilderment colored the Saintess’s eyes, as she hadn't given the teacup a second thought. Considering the hang time, it was nonsensical for the cup to be falling only now. But her lack of actual combat experience led her to make a foolish judgment.
Smash!
The teacup shattered in mid-air, spraying tea everywhere.
The Saintess had reflexively swatted the cup away with her fist. In the moment she tried to regain her stance and target Ian again—
The Saintess’s world turned upside down.
Ian, having already closed the distance, grabbed her arm and flipped her over his shoulder.
Many martial arts existed on the Continent, but there was only one grappling technique that could penetrate one's guard so instantaneously.
The Holy Kingdom’s secret martial art: Moon Reversal.
Thud!
The Saintess’s body slammed into the marble floor, sending out a shockwave. A pained groan escaped her lips. But that wasn't the end.
Naturally twisting her arm, Ian flipped her over and pinned her down. With her arm wrenched behind her back and her face pressed against the floor, the Saintess was helpless.
This was a characteristic of most grappling arts, but the fluid connection of his movements was far too familiar. It was unmistakably the secret technique of the Holy Kingdom.
But outsiders were forbidden from learning the Holy Kingdom's martial arts. Her eyes, filled with disbelief, turned toward Ian. However, his golden eyes remained as calm as ever.
"Y-you... huff... who... who are you?"
Swallowing her ragged breath out of sheer shock, the Saintess managed to ask. Hearing her, Ian fell silent as if contemplating.
His indifferent gaze drifted to the side before returning to her. His steady golden eyes met her trembling, rose-colored ones in the air.
"...Me?"
In the next moment, a sickening crack echoed.
"Aaaaaagh! Gasp, urgh!"
Ian had simply snapped the Saintess’s arm. Writhing on the floor in the agony of a shattered shoulder joint, she bit her lip and glared at him.
Blood vessels stood out in Yuren’s eyes. He screamed like a madman.
"Sister! Ian, you son of a...!"
"Shut up, unless you want your legs broken too."
Those few words were enough. Though Yuren’s gaze was filled with resentment, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and stay silent.
Regardless, Ian simply walked away with composed steps. His rhythmic stride led him back to the chair where he had originally been sitting.
He sat down and looked down at the Saintess without a word.
A faint terror began to take root in the Saintess’s eyes.
This man... he has no hesitation.
Usually, when one is about to commit violence, there is some form of internal conflict. This was even more true when the opponent was a woman and a high-ranking official of the Holy Kingdom.
Yet, this man had snapped her arm the moment he decided to, as if such things didn't matter in the slightest.
For someone who had grown accustomed to the status of 'Saintess' without even realizing it, it was a sensation she hadn't felt in a very long time.
But even as she directed a gaze full of shock and fear toward him, Ian’s expression remained unchanged. He merely spoke a single name with weary eyes.
"...Ian Percus."
The Saintess, wondering what he meant, only then remembered the question she had asked.
The answer to 'Who are you?'
It was an answer so perfectly appropriate yet so utterly inappropriate that the Saintess could only let out a hollow laugh.
You crazy bastard.
She couldn't dare say it aloud, only muttering the curse within her mind.